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"The place is crumbling down, boss," Louis listens. "Why even try? You got a great place in the quarter, greater and better than this."
"I do, but this is my home, James," Louis replies, his eyes never leaving the setting before them. "This is my history, my family's legacy. I can't leave it in disrepair anymore."
"It'll take months," James, his personal assistant, answers. "Months and a lot of coin."
"Coin is not a worry of mine," Louis reassures him. "I want my childhood home returned to its glory. My family deserves it, and the land itself deserves it. The foundation is strong, don't you see?"
"Yeah, I see," James replies, "but I also see that it may be a year and not just months. The closer we get, the more work I realize this place is going to need."
"Then it is a good thing I have you as an assistant," Louis says as he turns and faces him. Louis flashes a smile. "You're capable of getting this project into motion. Money's no object. Make sure they all know."
"Hey, where are you going?" James calls out. "It's late!"
"The night has only just begun," Louis answers without looking back. "I'd like to visit what was once my home away from home again. Have a good night, James!"
It is not the same. Of course, it isn't. Time has been cruel to memory, and Louis barely registers much left from his past. Centuries away have kept him from here, but now he sees it all, every change, barely making out even a minuscule piece of his history. Most have been demolished, and Louis ignores the ache in his chest and the hollow feeling it brings.
Time is not kind, never kind to vampires, especially not ones as lonesome as he. Returning to his old stomping grounds is a self-flagellation of sorts, and the pain from it will not be treated easily for Louis. This will be weeks of licking at old wounds and loathing all he is and all he's lost. The streets are cracked beneath his boots, and Louis glances around, seeing nothing of the wild nightlife of his younger years.
It's all washed away, all conformed to this new world and its new needs. The cellular age rages on, and humans don't desire a red-light district with blocks of brothels to heed their desire for pleasure and human contact. There are phone applications and websites, and it is funny to think of how contactless humanity has become in this century.
Louis thinks of recent times and the almost plague that has burned through the world. He thinks of a tall tower and walls to keep him inside, away from real life. Louis thinks of amber eyes and dark curls with an angel's face and a devil's smile. It's never been meant to last, always been a momentary part of his long life. Armand has so many centuries on him, and Louis is only now beginning to live genuinely.
He needs this freedom now to do as he pleases and make a life for himself that matters. Louis yearns for meaning, and it's more than playing mind games and keeping human farms and luxury that hasn't ever really appealed to him. It's more than minimalism and manipulations. There is more, and Louis seeks it now in his new life.
New Orleans is the key. New Orleans holds memories that make breathing a bit easier, and he strolls the city at ease, without care to move faster than his current pace. There is life all around, in the sounds of laughter ringing from bars and conversations as friends and lovers walk amongst him. There are humans of varying ages, rushing here and there, excited to take in sights and get to locations they have researched prior to their trips.
The excitement makes him smile. These humans are more than what most vampires believe. They are beloved, and there is purpose for them other than as a meal. There is so much more to life, and Louis indulges in the atmosphere. He nearly becomes a part of it if he tries hard enough.
And then, Royal Street.
It is natural for his heart to race. It is expected, and Louis walks the stretch of sidewalk to the familiar townhouse. His hands reach out, touch the well-cared-for steel with its green twisted shapes, and then look up at the tall, almost foreboding door.
The lights are on. There is someone home.
His heart picks up its pace, and Louis lets himself in. There is no familiar heart to join him in song, and instead, in the sitting room sits-
"Gabrielle," Louis murmurs in greeting and a nod of his head. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
She sits in an armchair by the unlit fire in all her glory. Her long, golden hair and her finely sculpted features. One so reminiscent of Louis' maker, of theirs . The familiar lines are blurry, and Louis tends to keep his mind from thinking about them for too long. Instead, he watches her, how she sits so sure of herself, a leg folded over the other and one of his favorite novels in her lap.
She looks so much like Lestat. It makes him sick, hurt, and wish for things that cannot be.
"I hadn't heard from you in longer than we agreed," Gabrielle answers. "We wondered-"
"You didn't think of me," Louis laughs, shaking his head at her. "You were sent here, weren't you? By him?"
"I take no orders from men," Gabrielle disagrees, frowning in a way Louis has seen so often in the past. If he squints, it could be Lestat himself who sits in that armchair. His delusions have long since left him, though. Louis knows Lestat is not here, nowhere close to here. He doubts Lestat will ever set foot here in the next century.
"You just so happened to remember me and come all this way to see me," Louis says, sounding as unconvinced as he feels. "Why? To read from my library? That's absurd, and you know it."
"I came of my own volition to see my family. The only family left that I tolerate," Gabrielle responds, snapping the book shut. She rises from the armchair, sweeps her long, blonde hair behind her shoulders, and comes to stand before him. "All his others are so weak, childish, and often whine. You are the only one I am able to have a modicum of respect for, Louis. You are the only one that has mattered."
"You can't blame me for doubting you," Louis says reasonably. "We haven't ever been that close, Gabrielle."
"Louis," Gabrielle says then, her tone serious and foreboding. "He is unwell. He needs…"
"I won't go there," Louis says before she can finish. "I can't. I can't go back. I have plans. I want to be here, to live here now. I've waited long enough to come home."
The silence stretches between them, but Louis refuses to give in. This is his time now, and he has earned it after all they've been through. He has earned the right to live a life he chooses, and this is where he wishes to live it now.
"Very well," Gabrielle agrees, stepping back. "Have a good evening, Louis. You look well, and I am glad for it."
"Goodbye," Louis returns, keeping emotion from spilling through his tone. Inside, he is a mess. Inside, he is in shambles. Inside, Louis curses Lestat and his ability to cause the utmost chaos in his life even when his maker is not physically present.
After, when she has long since left and Louis sits in the very same armchair, he broods and crosses his arms, his plans for the night long forgotten in favor of this. The fire roars at his side, and Louis envisions a different night with blood and flames and the pleading of a voice.
Put me in my coffin, Louis.
Louis wishes he had listened. Louis wishes he nailed the damn thing shut and threw it into the Mississippi—anything to keep Lestat from returning and turning his world on its axis again .
.
The following night, Louis wakes and immediately becomes aware of another in his home. This time, the agitation quickly builds, and Louis mentally demands the vampire leave.
Instead, there is a knocking at the top of his coffin.
"He's going to get himself killed again," Daniel's bored monotone breeches the silence. "Louis, he's going to perform and-"
"Why does it matter?" Louis asks angrily, throwing his coffin lid open. He's met with Daniel's expressionless face, and it only infuriates Louis all the more! "I have come here for peace! What Lestat chooses to do is his business!"
"He won't listen to anyone," Daniel says, sighing heavily. "Not even Armand can get through, and you know how obsessive Armand can become with those he loves."
"Then Armand can fight the battle," Louis says, rising from his coffin. "He can go and rescue Lestat this time around. I'm sure he'd love nothing more than to save Prince Lestat."
Daniel's hand is on his chest to stop him before Louis can walk away. "You know he won't listen to anyone else," Daniel repeats. "It's you he listens to, Louis. It's you he respects. Lestat values your opinion above all others, and I'm tired of hearing Armand bitch about him. Please, Louis, for old time's sake?"
"Don't use the past against me," Louis hisses, shoving Daniel's hand away. "I've earned my peace."
"You wouldn't have it if Lestat hadn't come and saved you from that fucking coffin," Daniel spits back at him. "Lou, listen, you know that I'm not his biggest fan, but I can't deny the guy loves you."
"Love," Louis laughs, finding that utterly ridiculous to say. "I wanted it to end, and Lestat forced me back into this. I was happy to let go and finally have the sun take me, and Lestat was selfish to take my decision from me."
"You were happy to come back," Daniel disagrees. He lifts a hand and taps at Louis' temple. "I hear you, even now. You're excited to be here. You're excited about restoring your childhood home. You'd have tried repeatedly to meet the sun if you were really this angry."
Louis turns away, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't appreciate you listening in on my thoughts," he mutters disdainfully.
"Pretty hard not to when you're screaming them at any vampire close enough to hear," Daniel retorts. "Louis, if this is about jealousy-"
"It is not," Louis exclaims, immediately overcome with offense. It floods him, and Louis spins around to glare daggers at Daniel. "I don't give a fuck who he is with."
And Daniel looks amused ! He smiles! He smiles, and Louis wants to smack that smile off his bastard face. "Sure, I'll pretend to believe you while you pretend to convince yourself of this. Here I was, sure we'd established we were all done lying to ourselves."
"Get out," Louis orders. "Tell Armand he can be the brave prince saving Lestat this time around. I want nothing to do with him."
.
The Vampire Lestat, for one night and one night only!
Come, my fledglings! Come meet your maker!
Halloween Night. San Francisco.
The Vampire Lestat and his Queen, Akasha, humbly request your presence for this magical and exclusive event! Tickets are available while they last and-
Louis slams his phone down, ignoring the shattering of the glass screen.
The Vampire Lestat and his Queen, Akasha. The Vampire Lestat and his partner, Akasha. The Vampire Lestat and his talented, gorgeous, brand new, and up-and-coming ingénue, Akasha.
Louis hates himself for caring. He shouldn't give a shit, but here he is, fuming over his ex and the blatant way in which Lestat promotes his new relationship. They're all over the headlines and social media, and every musical influencer shares video after video about them: Lestat and Akasha, the music industry's new It Couple .
They've been separated for a little under two years. Louis shouldn't care, but he does, oh he absolutely does, and his blood practically boils in envy. The only reprieve he has is that Lestat has yet to turn her. That is it. That is his only comfort, and he wonders when it will happen. It is inevitable with Lestat's track record for turning those he falls for, and goddamn, Lestat falls for so many, and often, too.
Louis isn't bitter at all. He's so above this!
"James, please book a flight for San Francisco on the 30th," he requests as his personal assistant enters the room. There are fresh blood bags in his hands, and Louis accepts them, popping one to take a long, needed sip.
"You're going to the show?" James asks, looking surprised and exhilarated all at once. "Can I come, Boss?"
"You like his music?" Louis asks, surprised as he licks his lips. James has never made any suggestion of this until this exact moment. In fact, Louis has assumed that James dislikes Lestat, considering their past.
James shrugs, "It's a once-in-a-lifetime event. I'd love to be part of it. That is, if that's okay with you?"
"There will be vampires in attendance," Louis advises his assistant. "I'll give you a vial of my blood to wear."
James snorts. "To stake your claim?" he asks, sounding amused.
Louis does not laugh. "Yes, exactly that."
There is a long pause and then an uncomfortable clearing of James' throat. "Right, I'll call the airport to make sure your jet is fueled, and we have a flight plan and crew ready for departure."
.
Louis hates the way he feels Lestat the closer they physically become to one another. Miles and distance don't mute the beating of their hearts from the other, and the connection grows more powerful with every passing minute. He forces the feelings away by remembering every evil, terrible thing Lestat has done, especially the last, and it becomes easier to ignore the drumming.
The Fairmont San Francisco looms before them in its greatness, a luxury Louis hardly needs, but the security is essential for one of his kind. The amount of money spent guarantees it and Louis follows after James and two guards who flank his sides.
Armand's connections by name alone are extensive, and Louis tries to concentrate on necessity rather than how ridiculous this all is.
"Is Lestat here?" James asks.
Louis shakes his head. "No, he's in a Villa somewhere far away. I cannot hear him."
"You can hear him?" James asks. "Can he hear us?"
"No, no," Louis chuckles. "It isn't like that, not at all. Your mind is safe for now."
The drumming begins again, louder now that Louis mentions it, and he finds it difficult to tune out. Thoughts of betrayal and the ultimate one flow through Louis' memory, but the drumming is thunderous and refuses to allow Louis calm.
Louis worries his lower lip between his teeth, and they enter the elevator. "I'll need to eat once we reach our suite," Louis advises his assistant.
James taps the bag slung over his shoulder. "Got it ready," he replies. "I have also made sure to have your specific sleeping arrangements settled and new shades put into place for the bedroom. It's impressive how willing people become to do strange things once you throw enough money their way."
"That seems to be a human condition that never fades," Louis agrees. "It is beneficial to my survival. I won't complain."
The doors open, and once inside the penthouse suite, Louis sees its opulence, and it truly does feel like he's going back in time. It was a different time, but one that he holds closely in his memories. As they walk through the living room, he focuses on the grand piano and thinks if he tries to, he can hear familiar songs played from the past.
"There's a library, as you know," James mentions while they continue to walk through the suite. "I made sure it had your favorites in place if you have time to read."
"Thank you," Louis murmurs, finding a small joy in the care to ensure he has something almost comfortable far from home. James is a gem of a find for an assistant, and the most impressive part of him is that despite all of this exposure to his world, James has no desire to become a vampire.
"I'll leave you here," James announces once they have reached Louis' bedroom door. "See you tomorrow night, Boss."
"Goodnight," Louis returns and pushes the door open. The main bedroom is what he expects exactly, and Louis appreciates it and the calmness it brings about as he locks the door behind him. He sees the blackout blinds, and his coffin lies in the middle of the bedroom.
It is early morning, and Louis still surprises himself with how little exhaustion comes to him now. Lestat's blood is powerful, running through his veins, keeping him from weakness now. Despite this, Louis undresses and wraps a robe around himself as he takes blood bag after blood bag from the bag James has packed and drinks.
The curiosity to remain awake stirs, and Louis wonders if the sun is truly no longer foe to him. He wonders what will happen if he draws the blinds and lets the morning light fill the room. Will he burn like before? Will he feel and smell his flesh aflame? Will he scream out in pain? Will Lestat come for him again?
Louis throws the third blood bag down and lifts the coffin's lid to climb down into. In the quiet of his confinement, the sweetness of silence surrounds him. Louis allows such dark musings to slip away as death sleep wraps its warm, comforting arms around him.
.
The drumming song wakes him. It blares in his chest, wraps its vice grip around his heart, and squeezes . Louis gasps loudly, losing all breath, and the coffin lid opens, allowing bright light to blind him momentarily.
His eyes shut tight, and a hand, familiar and real, cups his cheek.
Louis shudders, lifts his hand to wrap his fingers around a familiar wrist, lithe and whole, and his eyes flutter open again. Above him, Lestat looms, his golden hair bright and an almost halo glowing around his form.
"This is a dream," Louis rasps, unwilling to believe it to be anything more. "A dream, you're a dream."
"If I were a dream, we would be together already," Lestat disagrees, sitting himself down on Louis' bare legs. "If I were a dream, we would not be speaking at all," Lestat continues, untying Louis' robe. The fabric is pushed open, and Lestat pulls his wrist from Louis' hold to run both hands down Louis' chest. "If I were a dream," Lestat murmurs and leans over to brush his lips to Louis' chin, "then you would not have avoided all attempts to come to me, and we would have been together again for days now. My sweet, stubborn Saint Louis, how you love to torture me still."
The drag of Lestat's nails across his skin makes Louis whimper and gasp, and it's all so unfair. The love shared between them fills the coffin, and Louis' eyes are wide, unblinking as they take in the glory of a very naked and confident Lestat above him.
"You ignored even Gabrielle," Lestat says. "I was impressed by that. I had believed her presence would surely sway you to come home, but you resisted. She was not pleased."
"Your Mama doesn't scare me," Louis drawls, gripping tight at the sides of his coffin, his sharp nails slicing through the lining. "And sending Daniel wasn't going to convince me either."
"Yes, I know, my darling," Lestat agrees, smiling mischievously down at him. "It is why, instead of sending Armand to you as planned, I convinced your James to my side instead."
Louis stills, the surprise making his head spin. "James? You contacted my personal assistant?"
"Of course," Lestat laughs, then kisses up the line of Louis' jaw. He nuzzles beneath Louis' earlobe, a spot sensitive and always able to pull a pleasured moan out of Louis. "Dear James wishes for you to be happy, my love," Lestat murmurs against his skin. "You love me, Louis. You love me, and even your silly human friend knows it."
"He's getting fired," Louis grits from his clenched jaw. Lestat keeps licking at his skin, and Louis grabs a fistful of his long hair and pulls hard, using the new strength given to him by Lestat's blood. "I can't believe you're here."
"Where else would I be but with you?" Lestat asks him, sounding so damn passionate Louis nearly believes him. But only nearly !
"Akasha," Louis hisses, jealousy flaring unwelcomely. "What about her? Your Queen?"
"She is a means to an end," Lestat replies. "She is nothing but a passing fancy. She is nothing, Louis. You are my entire heart."
"Your heart is a liar," Louis insists, yanking Lestat's head back. He's tired of feeling Lestat's wretchedly evil mouth on his skin! "You lie so easy, Les, that you've almost convinced yourself this bullshit you spew is the truth."
"How are you still so upset with me for saving you?" Lestat asks bewilderedly. "I love you, Louis! I love you more than anyone has or will, and you love me the very same way. Please, darling, end this denial between us!"
"It'll never end," Louis says, shaking his head quickly. He closes his eyes, unable to look at Lestat. If he looks at Lestat, his finely crafted walls will come tumbling down, and he will be weak for his maker again. He cannot do this! He cannot allow his heart to be so vulnerable to teeth that have so often torn him to shreds.
"You fear the truth," Lestat whispers. "You fear the love you feel for me."
"You've broken me one too many times, Les," Louis returns in whispers. "I don't want to be broken anymore."
"I would not," Lestat says ever so gently, carefully reaching back to untangle Louis' fingers from his hair. "Not again. Not when I have lost you as many times as I have. Not when I know now what a life without you is like. Louis, you are my world."
A liar's promise. Louis has heard it all before.
"I gave you my blood," Lestat continues. "Twice now, you have drank from me and left me."
"I didn't want it," Louis rasps, his eyes remaining closed. "I didn't want-"
"They heard you," Lestat insists, speaking a truth Louis does not wish to hear. He's betrayed himself in that time, and to think it now will shatter him. "Daniel and Armand heard you, Louis. You did not wish to leave, not truly. You were hurt, broken down, and without a solution to escape the pain."
"I wanted to die," Louis says firmly. "You took it."
"You drank from me," Lestat disagrees, "and from Daniel and from Armand. You were aware, even slightly, but you were, and then you left. You ran."
"And you left," Louis says. There is the bitterness on his tongue, spitting from between his teeth. There it is, to be heard, and Louis cannot hold it in any longer. "You ran. You found comfort in person after person while I picked up the pieces and made myself strong again. Not because of your fucking blood, Lestat, but because of me."
Lestat's soft breath touches the side of his neck, his mouth rests against Louis' veins, and how wonderful it feels is unfair—the intimacy of it all and every memory it evokes from within Louis' battered mind. Lestat should not be able to do this, but Louis' heart fights against him. The ever-present battle of his head versus his heart continues, and his heart seems to be winning now.
Louis so often denies himself. Is that not all he's done his entire existence? The denial of every desire and the shame and guilt of wanting it all in the first place. The weakness of giving himself over to another so completely that he barely knows where he ends and the other begins. How is he to be strong and stand on his own two feet when all he truly desires is to let go and let someone love him? All of him?
"I love you, Louis," Lestat whispers into his shivering skin and over his pulsing vein. "You are loved."
What is it, then, to be loved? What does it mean to love someone with a fractured heart? Will it ever be right? Will it ever be whole? Will it matter in the end?
"You say it so sweet," Louis whispers back, turning his face. His nose ends up brushing Lestat's, and Louis allows his hands to touch the broadness of his shoulders. Strong and sure, and what if he lets go then? Will this be different? Will Lestat keep hold of him? Will Lestat be there for him?
"I love you," Lestat says for the third time. "Believe me, Louis."
"If you fuck me over, I'll kill you and then myself," Louis replies and sinks his teeth into the meat of Lestat's shoulder. Lestat cries out loudly enough that the window and door frames tremble, and Louis is aware of his personal assistant knocking on what he assumes is the locked bedroom door.
Lestat's blood quickly makes any other thoughts disappear, and Louis drinks in long, famished pulls, needing his teeth to sink in deeper to get a good bite and hurt Lestat even a little. He wants to cause pain, to make it matter, and to make Lestat remember his words and all the wounds he's caused over their long life together. He wants to leave marks that Lestat will see even if they fade from his preternatural flesh. Louis wants him to gaze at his marble flesh and see every bite and scratch years from now. Louis wants him never to forget .
Their bare bodies begin to rut against each other, and the confined space of the coffin becomes a sort of haven for the rapture that rapidly spreads through their veins. Louis can feel Lestat's bliss in every pull Louis takes of his blood, and just as Lestat starts to grind against him, Louis forces himself from Lestat's blood and gasps loudly, denying himself and Lestat in the process.
"No, no," Lestat whines, his hips continuing their desperate rhythm. "Louis, please, please," he begs. He begs so pathetically, and the sick part of Louis enjoys it. A thrill rushes through him, and Louis enjoys the way Lestat begs and begs for him , and the satisfaction it brings is resplendent.
The all-powerful vampire Lestat, begging like a man desperate for water after days lost wandering in a desert. Lestat, so firm, so renowned, begging for sweet release and Louis to let him in, to let them be.
Louis is hard from it and the contact of Lestat's soft, marble-like flesh rolling and rocking against his own. It's new and exciting, and the desire to continue spreads, coiling around him until all Louis is aware of is their hearts as they pound in tandem together, and the lust surges through.
Louis wants this, wants Lestat, wants to make him all his. He wants to bite Lestat, to cover him in blood, to spit it right into his mouth, and to dig his nails into his skin. Louis wants Lestat to call out his name in pleasure and pain, making it known precisely to all who hear who Lestat belongs to.
He wants, oh, how he wants, but he stops. Louis stops and jerks his hips up, reaches down, and digs his nails into Lestat's backside, smelling blood and desire, and it's hazy all around. His eyes are heavy as Louis watches Lestat, and his hips jolt again, finding pleasure in the way the breath gets caught in Lestat's throat as he throws his head back. His neck is beautifully exposed there, and Louis rises in a flash, sinking his teeth in again.
The scream that passes through Lestat's lips is guttural, and then there are hands straining against Louis' back, holding on as Lestat desperately rolls his hips, their cocks rubbing together in the sweet friction of it all. The space of the coffin feels smaller yet exactly as intimate as Louis needs it to be. At this moment, it is them and them alone, and nothing and no one else exists. Only Lestat and Louis and the pleasure that builds between them as their hearts furiously beat together, and every crack of Louis' splitters and threatens to break apart, but then lips, soft and pliant, crush to his. It is bright and hot, and nothing is dark or aches, and the only crying is them, moaning over the waves of completion that strike them over again and again, dragging them out into a sea of passion they're only able to find together.
The unholiness of it and the sin that drips from his lips from biting his tongue. The blood comes, and Lestat's tongue, wicked and tempting, laps at it, his passion endless even now, even after experiencing a release. It is like his Lestat, to be forever wanting and fulfilled and always wanting more and more of Louis, never finding enough of him to be satisfied.
Louis is ever wanted and needed, and the obsessiveness of their love is blinding in its possession. The flames of that possessiveness lick at their blood-sweat-covered bodies, and Louis' fangs clash with Lestat's as a need to kiss him takes over. He needs more of this and of him, and will the well ever be full? Will Louis ever tire of his constant craving to consume Lestat whole?
The kiss lingers, and Lestat melts in his arms, his body limp and perfectly shaped against Louis' to hold. He falls back into the coffin, turning them to their sides, and Lestat curls into him, tangling his legs with Louis' and every wish Louis has come true for one moment in time.
And then, the moment passes as reality bares its sharp edges into Louis' self-made heaven.
"You'll come to the show, won't you?" Lestat slurs, resting his forehead against Louis'. "Will you? I need you."
"I don't want to see you with her," Louis replies earnestly. "Tell her the truth."
"Mm, about you?" Lestat asks drowsily. He's lost in his revelry, and Louis envies that about his lover. He so longs to be as carefree as Lestat is.
"About us," Louis corrects him. "Tell her enough. She can move on, and she's human." The fear is there once more, poking holes in whatever contentment Louis attempts to hold onto. "She is human, isn't she?"
"Of course," Lestat sighs. "Louis, you worry too much," Lestat adds, stroking his cheek affectionately. "Let's not talk about her."
"She is your partner," Louis reminds him, albeit reluctantly. It infuriates Louis even to say the words. "She has expectations about your relationship."
"The mind gift could help," Lestat offers rather unhelpfully. "She will move on."
"And the concert?" Louis asks. "Will you cancel it then? Let everyone down? And all the vampires who have come to attend it as well?"
"Ah, Louis," Lestat croons, opening his eyes to meet his. "I'd give it all up if it meant we could stay this way. None of it matters to me. Only you."
"You speak so sweet for a devil," Louis says with a roll of his eyes.
Lestat laughs softly and kisses him. It's gentle and then not at all. No, it's teeth and tongue, and Louis doesn't protest as Lestat rolls him onto his back and begins to kiss his way down Louis' body. By the time Lestat disappears between his legs, Louis is panting and clutching at his hair, the world falling away again while Lestat's wicked lips wrap around the head of his cock.
A little longer in the coffin, just a little longer, Louis will find the ability to think again.
Maybe.
Louis' life is often a guessing game, with every appearance of Lestat.
.
Hours later, when they've thoroughly reacquainted themselves with one another, Louis opens the bedroom door and is met with a very guilty-looking James. Louis stares, unsure of what to say when he doesn't know how he actually feels about the betrayal because it is a betrayal! James, his own personal assistant and someone Louis has wholly trusted to do the best for him, has instead conspired behind his back with his ex-husband to get him here.
Not that Louis isn't happy about the circumstances of it all now, but that's beside the point. James has gone behind his back, and now Louis wonders if he can still be trusted. That's one hell of a blow when an assistant as incredible as James is tough to find.
"I know you're mad, and I'm sorry," James begins, holding his hands up as a sign of peace. "But Lestat made some good points; from what I've heard, he wasn't wrong. You seemed pretty happy in there."
"Don't," Louis snaps and glares as he steps around James to go to the blood he knows waits for him. "You went against my wishes and behind my back-"
"And I've enjoyed your back," Lestat drawls, following after, lighting a cigarette as he does. Louis turns in time to see Lestat wink at James and witnesses James begin to blush in return.
"Don't," Louis repeats, directing it at Lestat this time. "Neither of you are innocent, but James is human, and you've manipulated him, Lestat."
"Are you not happy with our reunion, mon cher?" Lestat asks, all the smugness disappearing from his expression. "Did you not enjoy yourself with me in that bedroom and that coffin for hours? Did I dream it all up?"
Louis rolls his eyes and snatches a blood bag from its cooler, drinking its contents in one long, irritated gulp. He mutters under his breath, unable to believe any of this. Yes , he's happy about the result but isn't pleased with how they arrived here.
"Louis," Lestat purrs from behind him. He's close, and Louis turns around lest his handsy ex-husband thinks he will touch him. Lestat isn't going to get that privilege again for a while, especially not in front of Louis' personal assistant.
Lestat offers him the cigarette, and his response of acceptance is so natural Louis barely thinks. He takes a drag of it, and the nicotine hardly affects him, but the oral fixation need is met.
"You should get dressed," Louis suggests. "You've got rehearsal."
"I do not need to rehearse," Lestat replies, looking offended. "I want to stay with you. Louis, I have read that this suite has quite an extensive library. There are rumors that Marilyn Monroe herself would sneak through a secret passage to meet her lover, the President."
Louis stares, unsure where this is going or if there is a point to it.
Lestat smiles again, takes another drag of the cigarette, and then steps close enough that their chests make contact. "We could perhaps reenact such history," Lestat purrs seductively. "I could be Marilyn, and you, the President-"
"You need to leave," Louis demands, but he can't keep his laughter at bay. He playfully pushes Lestat away and shakes his head at him. You're incorrigible, Lestat."
"Yes, but you do enjoy it," Lestat says with more confidence than anyone should be allowed to have. "Don't you, Louis?"
"Goodbye, Lestat," Louis says loudly and to the point. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"But the library," Lestat childishly whines, finally snaking his arm around Louis' waist to pull them flush together. "You and I and the books you so love? Louis, is there a better space for us to inhabit with our lovemaking?"
"Lestat," Louis says calmly, "we can discuss this after your show."
Inside, Louis goes mad with a desire that has once more made itself known. If they were alone without an audience, Louis is sure he would drag Lestat to that library and make their own memories. Memories that would erase any ideas of historical rumors that Lestat attempts to tease him into giving in to.
"After your show, and then you can have me anywhere you want," Louis says, deciding to change his tune to sway Lestat into agreeing with him. "In any way you want, mon cher."
Lestat sucks a sharp breath in and surges forward to kiss him, and Louis smiles inside, knowing he has won this round. The kiss lingers, making promises of what tomorrow night will bring them.
Be it in the library or wherever else.