They had gone to coffin early that morning. The sunrise only a light promise in pink on the horizon. They had all chosen their own coffins at first but it hadn’t taken Lestat long to get out again and lightly tap on Louis’. His heart had done a little anxious flip during the moment it had taken Louis to open the lid and let Lestat glide into coffin next to him. Not that Louis had ever refused him but things were still tense in the house on Rue Royale and Lestat’s nerves were constantly on edge.
Lestat had expertly shimmied himself and Louis out of their silk pyjamas, sighing in content at the feeling of Louis’ naked skin against his own, both still warm from the blood of tonight’s kill that was flowing through their veins. They had started the night together as had become their custom but then had gone their seperate ways quickly, only to reunite at home in the morning.
Not for the first time, Lestat regretted the maker’s curse that didn’t allow him to read Louis’ thoughts as he could in the beginning. He missed knowing what was going on in this beautiful head. The way Louis had longed for the soft cushions on his bed after a long night in Storyville, the way Louis had praised his mother’s gumbo out loud when he was really craving his sister’s cooking which was so superior.
And the way Louis had fantasized about that blond “French white” stranger that had come into his life like an enigma.
Lestat kissed Louis deeply, softly caressing his cheek, careful not to hurt him with his vampire nails. Louis responded with the same passion making Lestat’s heart soar and easing the knot of anxiety that seemed to have taken home inside of him. Lestat pressed his body closer to Louis’, placing small kisses on his neck, feeling Louis’ sighs brush against his skin, then slowly moving downwards, tracing Louis’ collarbone with more kisses.
It would never seize to amaze Lestat to feel this smooth skin underneath his fingers and to know that he was his, that he had said yes to him, to his Dark Gift, to be his companion for all eternity. He could never stop himself from touching it, not since the first time he had met his St Louis, his destiny, when his hands had gone wandering the seams of Miss Lily’s dress and all he really had wanted to do was let his hands glide down this handsome man’s chest.
Lestat’s lips continued their journey down Louis’ body, covering his chest with kisses, licking little beads of blood off of his lover’s skin, blowing against it and marvelling in the tiny goosebumps that formed in response. Louis’ skin was still remarkably soft for a vampire, almost unchanged since his transformation, a faint echo of his humanity that would probably never leave him.
Lestat remembered the way Louis had smelled when he was still human and fragile, hints of thyme and brandy underneath a concoction of scents that made New Orléans, tobacco, jasmine and roses, old wood, coffee, brugmansia flowers and mossy trees. Lestat rested his head against Louis’ chest and inhaled deeply. It was still there, faint, cleaner somehow, purer, but still unmistakenly his pet human.
Lestat settled himself for a moment, listening to Louis’ heartbeat, the strong and steady thump, slightly quickened now, feeling his own heart matching the rhythm, a twin drum to Louis’ pulse, the way their hearts had beaten in unison since their first winter together in New Orléans, when Lestat had taken Louis to the Opera and Louis in return had shared his love of fashion with this stranger. A stranger that intrigued and infuriated him in equal measures.
Louis wiggled somewhat impatiently and the movement snapped Lestat out of his reminiscence. He chuckled softly, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated against Louis’ abdomen. Lestat placed both hands on Louis’ hips to give them a steady hold before letting the cloud gift do its magic, carefully not to push too hard, just un petit peu.
Louis’ fingers crawled up Lestat’s neck and into his thick lush curls, his nails lightly scraping Lestat’s scalp. Lestat placed kiss after kiss on his lover’s neck, shoulder, chest, losing himself in the feeling of comfort and excitement that Louis always awoke in him. His love, his companion.
Je t’aime. Tu es aimé, mon cœur.
Lestat nestled his face in Louis’ neck. Here where the veins were so close to his skin, Lestat could catch a whiff of tonight’s kill. Louis had been out hunting with Claudia that night. Human. No trace of animal blood. Salty with a bitter tang. Stale beer and sweat. A faint smell of seaweed and damp mould. Had they been down by the docks?
The image of Louis’ first chosen victim came to Lestat’s mind: a young sailor, a gorgeous blond hunk of a man, full of life and swagger. Hmm. Sometimes his Louis did have a type.
Their early days together, after Louis had accepted the Dark Gift, were the happiest Lestat could remember. Had their happiness been a fantasy? Could they ever return to how things used to be between them? He knew he had hurt Louis deeply, unforgivably so, and he would spent the rest of his immortal life making it up to him. Or at least trying to. He couldn’t lose Louis again, not ever.
He had Nicki lost twice, once to depression and madness, once to the fire. Three times if you counted their temporary seperation after Magnus had taken Lestat… Nicki, his first love. Nicki who in some ways had been so much like him. Both rebels against their fate, or what their families had set for them. Both lovers of the fine arts, music and theatre. Nicki who in most other ways had been the complete opposite of him. His dark twin. Cyncical and self-destructive.
Louis’ hands were slack on his back, had been for a while in fact, and it made Lestat look up sharply at his lover’s face. It was upturned, eyes staring unfocusedly into the distance.
“Louis…”
The word had come out more harshly than Lestat cared to admit even to himself, and Louis’ head whipped around, his expression a mixture of surprise and guilt. Before Lestat could say anything further, Louis pulled his face close and kissed him fervently. Lestat felt himself once again drawn into the kiss, the smell and taste of Louis in his nostrils and on his tongue, filling his mind, desperately trying to drown out the small voice whispering in the back of his head.
“He’s been mind-talking. To Claudia. This entire time…”
Fandom: Interview with the Vampire (2022)
Characters: Lestat de Lioncourt / Louis de Pointe du Lac
Word Count: 1,115
Published:
- Daughter-of-Gallifrey: 19 August 2024
- Archive of Our Own: 24 August 2024
Daughter of Gallifrey 