Louis stood by the window watching his “paramour” as Cookie had called him and their pet play in the backyard. They seemed to have, temporarily at least, given up on the mouse and were now chasing each other. For his tiny legs, Barney was surprisingly fast and agile, even though he was still no match for the long-legged vampire with supernatural speed.

In his attempt to escape his playmate, Barney had managed to run up a tree and was cowering on one of the lower branches, doubtfully eyeing the deep abyss in front of him. Lestat laughed and placed himself underneath the branch, arms outstretched, and encouraged the cat to jump down. Instead, Barney retreated further back until his little tush bumped into the trunk of the tree. In a spur of the moment decision, the tabby changed tactics and bolted along the branch in large, graceful leaps. Louis could see it coming and so did Lestat.

As the branch grew thinner, physics intervened with the feline’s trajectory. The branch began to wobble until it bucked off the kitten. With a flurry of flailing paws and a surprised “mow?!”, Barney tumbled earthward like a very fluffy meteor – and right into Lestat’s waiting arms. Dignity? Gone. Landing? Questionable. Lesson learned? Absolutely not.

Louis snorted and turned away, shaking his head. He started clearing the dining table, which was still littered with the contents of Cookie’s paper bag: a can of beer, satchels of cat food and bottles of kitten milk, toys and Barney’s food bowl. He left everything on the counter of their kitchen in a slightly more organized way. Mari, their housekeeper, would do the rest tomorrow.

He returned to the dining room, just as Lestat and Barney were coming back in as well. Apparently the mouse had eventually found its final resting place inside Barney’s stomach, which looked comically swollen. Too much food made Barney drowsy and the little cat swayed dangerously from left to right as he was gently nudged on by Lestat’s hands towards the parlour.

“He overindulged.” Lestat grinned at Louis.

Louis followed the pair and watched as Barney waddled towards the rug in the middle of the parlour. There the cat sat down for a little rest and unerringly retched up a giant furball. With a disgusted look at his own creation, Barney continued to the fireplace, where he plonked down, exhausted. Dutifully, he tried to clean himself but it proved to be somewhat difficult. His belly – round and filled with mouse, kitten milk and chunks in gravy – didn’t allow for too much movement, and an onsetting fatigue threatened to cut short any grooming efforts. His licks became more and more erratic until he succumbed to sleep – mid-lick – and seemingly frozen in time. His little pink tongue still poked out of his mouth and one leg was still held up in the air.

Lestat chuckled at the sight and Louis couldn’t help but join him. He bent down to remove any evidence from the “hairy crime scene” off the rug and carried it off to the kitchen. When he came back, Lestat stood behind the settee, running his fingers along its back and looking lost somehow. Louis hesitated for a moment but then stepped next to his husband and gently touched Lestat’s back. Lestat looked up and smiled at Louis but there was sadness in his eyes.

“So, how was your night?” Louis asked, uncertain what had brought on this change in mood. “Did you have a good hunt?”

Lestat shrugged and seemed suddenly very interested in the structure of the fabric that covered the furniture in front of him.

“Who did you eat then? Tell me!” Louis insisted and tried to give his voice a humorous undertone, hoping it would cheer Lestat up.

“Eh bien…” Lestat shrugged again in that very French way, that usually never failed to make Louis smile. – He ain’t white. He French. Indeed! – but just now, Lestat seemed to be a bit more dramatic than even his usual self.

“Since I’m somewhat restricted in my dietary choices,” Lestat continued, giving Louis an upward glance, “I did my very best to meet the criteria “evil doers only, no killing”. However, I could not find a murderer, rapist or similar. But! Just before we parted, I picked up the very sinister thoughts of an older, nasty-looking guy. His skin was almost orange from the over-excessive use of tanning beds. His twenty-something mistress was with him.”

Lestat rested his hip against the settee to face Louis and leaned in a little for more dramatic effect, “He was cheating with her on his pregnant wife!” He looked at Louis for his reaction. “I hope this finds your approval?”

Louis should have been annoyed by Lestat’s antics but they were also rather amusing. Louis snickered and pulled Lestat close to him.

“Yes, they do. Well done, mon cher!” He kissed Lestat, who – to Louis’ surprise – pulled back quickly. Something was definitely off, and it was Louis’ turn to feel a little lost. He took Lestat’s hand, which was still on the back of the settee.

“Let’s go upstairs, shall we?” he suggested and added with a hopeful undertone. “To bed?”

The suggestion was met with another noncommittal shrug before Lestat followed Louis upstairs to their bedroom, where they started undressing in silence, each in their corner of the room. After Louis had put on his pyjamas, he glanced at Lestat, who was still fiddling around with the waistband of his bottoms.

Louis watched his husband for a moment. His blonde curls, tousled and slightly unruly from the hunt and the play date with their new housemate. His perfectly V-shaped torso – broad shoulders tapering down to a slim waist. Muscles that flowed seamlessly beneath his white marble skin, subtly refined. His arms and hands sinewy, strong and elegant. They could snap a man’s neck in an instant and cradle the delicate body of a small kitten with loving care. His long legs, calves flawlessly curved. Louis also marvelled at the part in between and a flash of a smile flitted across his face.

“Lestat”, he called out softly.

Lestat turned his head, surveying Louis from across the room before taking a few steps towards him.

“So, Louis… How was your night? Who did you eat then?” Lestat said, imitating Louis’ earlier tone. Again, Louis decided to ignore the jab as he felt a tingling sensation building in his lower abdomen. He still couldn’t quite piece together where this was going but they were getting there. Instead he answered with his version of the French noncommittal shrug.

“Just some guy…”

Lestat’s eyes never left Louis’ face as he slowly closed the distance between them.

“You know… after I snacked on the vicious couple, I walked around a bit. Headed in the general direction you went when you ran off. I was hoping to find you, and maybe we could have a meal together. There was another human, a despicable man. Not fat like the orange one, but big. His thoughts were almost shouting at me.” He paused. “About a black kid, a male prostitute he’d just had in a back alley. He felt really smug about the way he’d roughed the kid up. Showed him who’s boss.”

He had reached Louis and stopped only a breath away from him. His face contorted in revulsion and disgust.

“I didn’t like what he was thinking about that kid, so I dragged him behind a tree and drained him.”

He leaned in closer and whispered into Louis’ ear.

“I can smell him on you.”

Louis’ insides plummeted. An ice-cold shiver, like a drop of glacial meltwater, ran down his spine. Lestat’s breath tickled his earlobe.

“Did you fuck him?”

Lestat looked at him, intent on any reaction. “Not the older guy. I know you didn’t touch him. The kid.”

“Did you kill him?” There was no question who Louis was referring to.

Lestat snarled and turned away.

“No, I didn’t. No killing, that’s the rule, isn’t it? I spared his miserable life. I just gave him a taste of his own malice. How it feels to be taken advantage of when you’re weak and powerless, and things are out of your control.”

Louis looked down at his bare feet as a strange wave of gratitude and guilt washed over him. He’d been too focused on the kid’s blood and his desire for it that everything else had faded. But when he drank from him, he could feel that at the core of the darkness and void inside of him, there was a deep love for his sister and niece, his longing to be home, and to be with them. He’d been a good kid in a very bad situation. Louis was glad someone had for once looked out for him, and he felt guilty. It could have – should have – been him.

“Oh, in this case, I would have accepted an exception to the rule,” Louis attempted a smirk.

“Évidemment…!” Lestat threw up his hands in exasperation. “You’re still a library of confusion, Saint Louis!”

“Still?” Louis chuckled softly. “After more than 100 years?” He put his arms around Lestat’s waist and pulled the other vampire closer to him.

“Give or take, with a few decades of separation…” Lestat mumbled, sounding still displeased. “You’re still a challenge every sunset…”

Lestat sighed and Louis finished the sentence for him: “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He took Lestat’s face in his hands and kissed him before Lestat could protest. This time, Lestat responded to the kiss with an urgency that told Louis about the hidden turmoil inside him. When they broke apart, Lestat buried his face in his lover’s shoulder.

“Did you…?”

“Did what…?” Louis was momentarily confused, still reveling in the warmth and comfort of Lestat’s presence.

Lestat gave him a pointed look.

Oh. Right.

“No, I didn’t.”

I was tempted for a moment – a very brief moment – but I didn’t, my love.

“I did not. I swear.”

Lestat nodded slowly and leaned his cheek against Louis’.

“I just thought…” Lestat started saying haltingly. “I could tell you weren’t feeling yourself lately and… I didn’t know what to do.”

Lestat’s words caused another dull pang of guilt inside Louis’ chest and he kissed Lestat’s cheek, apologizing.

“I know… I’m sorry. I’m better now.” His hands caressed Lestat’s back, giving him the reassurance that he needed. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m not going to hurt myself.”

Leaning in a little closer, he whispered into Lestat’s ear.

“I’m all yours, mon cher.”