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There was very little Lestat enjoyed more than a game. A surprise, a challenge, a fight, those were things he might have enjoyed more, but combine all of the above, and he might have finally found his vampiric equivalent of a field day. In planning the album for his tour, he’d birthed many ideas for songs, most with outright blasphemy in each line, but only to those who would actually know what he was saying. To an unsuspecting herd of cattle, it would be a mere racket, more sounds to gorge themselves to, to inebriate and fornicate. He couldn’t even say that he was complaining either. He loved his audience, his mostly mortal, warm, enthralled fans.
It was different now than it had been when the band had gone by the moniker of ‘Devil’s Night Out’. Even if he had hardly hidden his vampiric nature behind the guise of rock subcultures, Lestat’s vampirehood had never been the focal point of their image. ‘Groupies’, as they were called today, were all too willing to offer themselves to him in the name of kink. ‘Goths are so extra,’ as Tough Cookie had put it. Whether she was referring to himself claiming to be a vampire, or the level of kink their fans practiced, Lestat was unsure. He supposed if he really cared, he could have looked into their minds. But he had been more distracted by the fact that upon revealing himself to them, they hadn’t even batted an eye.
Mortals were incredibly thick-skulled for the other armor they lacked. They would believe in formless beings who dictated the course of life, wage wars on their behalf, commit all sorts of atrocities in their names, but to believe in an unliving, breathing creature who is proclaiming who they are would be too much of a stretch. It wasn’t until Lestat saw Louis again that he found a reason to approach his band with a renewed fervor to get his point across. Louis was going to be published. The interviews he had been giving the journalist, Daniel Molloy, were to be turned into a book.
That gave him time.
He had a rebrand to propose, a tour to plan, songs to write and record, music videos to stage, direct, and perform. Lestat had an entirely new project for his afterlife, and it was to bring ‘The Vampire Lestat’ to the world. Of course, he had a good many reasons for doing this. Any given day determined the level of importance to him, but the chiefest among them never moved. Louis had made an incredibly bold decision in coming forward and allowing Daniel to not only live, but tell his story to the entire world. Lestat would have to take the necessary time to swallow the fact that he respected Louis’ need to do so even if the words themselves, the falsehoods and lack of context and downright vitriol, burned him to his core in a way the sun never could.
Coming forward presented the possibility of protecting Louis, of doing something so unimaginably worse, that the ancient vampires out there with a bone to pick would come for his ribs and spine instead. And maybe, if he was lucky, Gabrielle would hear, or Marius. It had been too long since he’d seen either of them, and at least one of the two, he could not reach out to in the same way as the other. It wasn’t until Gabrielle was ready that he could see her again. It truly was a humbling experience being a maker. However, Lestat had a hard time believing that Marius would stay hidden the moment Lestat came forward with what he had planned. It would be worthy of at least a scolding, one that Lestat would laugh his whole way through.
The only thing that even threatened to touch the amount of his desire to protect his companion, however, was the fact that in doing this, he would be enacting some form of influence. He would be taking action, impacting the flow of things. He would no longer be a rock in the middle of a running stream with no choice but to be lived around. He would be a dam, a source of power and strength, something that could not be ignored. He had wanted it in his mortal life, and found it infinitely harder to achieve in his immortal one. But now, he had the perfect opportunity to be seen, and gain everything he could possibly want in one go.
He was already on an incredible roll. Louis was back, in his life, living in his home–or at least he was fairly certain. They had never discussed it, but he had taken Louis into account when renovating the place, and Louis had seldom spent his days elsewhere, even if that meant alternating back and forth between the coffin and the bed in the room with no windows. Lestat hadn’t been so on board with sleeping in a bed, but once Louis had explained his reasoning, he was willing to give it at least a try. After all, Magnus was dead. No one was coming for him in his sleep now. And if they did, they would have a hard run of it. He would protect Louis with every fiber of his being. It was why he was doing this.
And consequently, why he was sending a string of messages to Louis’ device, demanding that he come down into the basement recording studio of their modern home. The band lived in the basement unit which was completely self contained, and housed their studio, should they ever want to practice during times that were more accommodating to a mortal lifestyle. Lestat did not have to worry about windows.
“This better be good,” rang Louis’ voice from the doorway into the control room, a brow raised with his hand on his neck. He looked tired, a bit done with Lestat’s antics, but he knew it was as genuine as the assertion that Lestat would have called Louis down here for anything short of spectacular. “Judith Butler was making a point.”
“Good evening, mon cher.” Lestat’s face immediately lit up from where he sat at one of the control boards. The recording light was dimmed in the opposite portion of the dedicated studio space behind the glass. His instruments were all set in their respective homes, as well as the other members of the band. “I promise that whatever revolutionary queer theorists of past decades have to offer you will not compare to what I am offering you tonight.” His lips parted in a smile as he reached a hand out toward Louis, inviting him further into the room with a tilt back of his head.
“Gender theorists,” he corrected as he moved with reluctance. “And what exactly is that?”
Lestat would have spoken, but before he could, he registered the feeling of Louis’ nails dragging against the crown of his head upon approach. He had no choice but to first lean his head into his love’s tender touch. It was unexpected, but further cemented his assumption that Louis wasn’t actually annoyed when he came to stand just behind Lestat’s shoulder and give some much-appreciated head scratches. It was something that had been happening more often as of late, Lestat not being the only one to initiate physical contact, and the older vampire could not be happier. Paris was an unwelcome leveling that had–if nothing else–forced them both to gain a brand new perspective on quite a few things. Compassion and understanding were coming in an abundance Lestat wasn’t certain he’d ever received before, and he was more than willing to give it in return. “I require your assistance.”
The pause in movement on his head was immediate, if not adorable. Lestat failed to hide the sly smirk that grew on his face at the image in his mind of a confused Louis that preceded the words that came out of his mouth. “ You’re asking me for help?” It didn’t sound nearly as much like a question as it did a bewildered proclamation.
“Yes, I am asking you for help,” Lestat parrotted, with no shortage of mocked sarcasm in his tone. He stood, in spite of the loss of contact with his paramour, and turned, gesturing broadly to the seat he had just risen from. “Have a seat.” Once Louis had taken his spot in the chair, Lestat stood next to him, leaning forward to toggle a few of the controls on the board. As he leaned, his hair fell from behind his ear, allowing him a peak or two to place where Louis was in relation to him. Even in a few stolen glances from behind his hair, Lestat was able to tell Louis was confused. But he hadn’t moved from his seat and was well within reach of the maker vampire–which was exactly what Lestat required.
Lestat didn’t want to run the risk of later being accused of being nervous, however, because he wasn’t nervous. It wasn’t fear that made him drag this out, but the satisfaction that would come with Louis’ growing frustration melting away into pure bliss. He had no idea how long it would take for Louis to finally demand what his job was down here, or how many buttons Lestat had to press figuratively and literally to get a reaction out of Louis. But after a few minutes of non-elaboration, Lestat heard a sigh and caught the unmistakable sight of Louis’ hand reaching for his forehead. Et voila.
Louis was out of his seat. “You know, if you wanted me to sit with you while you worked, you could have at least told me so that I could bring my book down–”
Lestat suddenly stood and caught the side of Louis’ face with his hand. His other came to grip the smaller vampire by his waist, guiding him up against the control panel he had been fidgeting with just seconds before. “But how could you be of help with your nose buried in a book?” Lestat countered, his eyes wandering down to behold his companion’s beautiful lips. “Although, I must admit, it isn’t your nose so much that I am concerned with at the moment.” As if to prove his point, he leaned forward, forcing Louis to either hold onto Lestat or put his full weight onto the control deck behind him. Lestat had a preferred outcome, and lifted Louis by the hip with his hand to increase the odds in his favor.
When Louis’ feet were no longer able to properly touch the ground, Lestat was satisfied, even more so at the way Louis gripped onto any part of Lestat due to the slanted nature of the panel. He’d slide right off if it wasn’t for his hold on the blonde vampire, or his presence between Louis’ legs. Lestat also derived an intense satisfaction from the immediate gasp and arch of Louis’ neck in response to Lestat’s actions and words. There was no telling how Louis would react to being thrown up against Lestat’s recording equipment in his studio without any warning, and it wasn’t like Lestat had asked to feed, as tempting as the presence of Louis’ neck was.
He was beautiful, perfect, completely pliant in Lestat’s hold, while simultaneously holding onto the other vampire for dear life–or was it just that he didn’t want Lestat to stop? Lucky for Louis, he hadn’t even started yet. “I think you forgot the definition of the word ‘help’ since the last time you used it.” Lestat felt Louis’ hand wrap around the back of his neck. “Does it all go out the window when you take your underground nap?” He knew Louis’ voice was not nearly as strong as the younger vampire would have liked. It barely had any voice to it, which was incredible given the fact that all Lestat had done so far was pin him up against a table and get in between his legs, but Lestat was nothing if not eager.
To save Louis some embarrassment, Lestat finally took his companion’s lips in his own with a hunger that could only be satisfied by blood or Louis’ love. History had proven time and again the prevalence of the former without the presence of the latter in Lestat’s life. But he loved Louis, so much, and it showed in the possessiveness he displayed both at the entrance and exploration of Louis’ mouth, and in each warm, intentional kiss down the edge of his jaw. Lestat’s lips made methodical work of eeking out each possible sound from the vampire in his arms as he nipped and kissed beneath Louis’ ear. Each gasp and sigh was a different instrument in its own right, a symphony at Lestat’s fingertips. All he had to do was pluck the right notes.
Louis’ moans echoed in their close proximity to Lestat’s ear, and he was reluctant to even move from the spot because of it, but he had work to do, so he continued, gradually creating a trail of bites and licks down Louis’ neck. His hips pressed forward with force to keep Louis in place as the blonde vampire pulled the shirt from off of Louis with little difficulty. It was the only time his lips had left Louis until they went back to work, but his weren’t the only ones working. Lestat heard his name amongst the chorus of cries and praises, the half-formed verses abandoned in moments of utter overwhelm. Lestat’s fingers dug into Louis’ hips to keep him on the panel as his lips continued to trail downward, pausing in their movement as his head dipped to the side to circle his tongue around one of Louis’ raised nipples.
He was not ashamed, not that Lestat ever was, and made an audible show of his eyes darting upward as he suckled and moaned around Louis’ mound. Louis’ hips met his in a clear attempt at friction, and Lestat grinned, his teeth showing as his tongue continued to work its magic. “Fuck– Lestat–” The whine that tore itself from Louis’ throat at the sight of Lestat peering up at him while face fucking his tits was enough to cause Lestat to rut right back into his beloved, but Lestat resisted further movement with a hiss, biting down around the mound of Louis’ chest instead. He couldn’t get carried away. After lapping up the blood that seeped in a circle around Louis’ nipple, he pulled his mouth back, with a pop! “Yes, mon cher? Was there something you wanted to say?” His eyes never left Louis’ as he pressed gentle kisses down the ripple of Louis’ abdomen, or he tried at least. It was hard when Louis’ own eyes closed every few seconds in his growing arousal. Lestat didn’t have to be pressed right against it to be aware of its presence. He could hear it in the way Louis’ heart beat. He could see it in the dark of Louis’ widening gaze. He could smell it in the blood pooling between them.
“Fuck me,” came Louis’ exclamation, but when paired with the frustrated groan and backward tilt of Louis’ head that it came with, Lestat knew it was meant to be more a declaration of annoyance than a request.
“Maybe later, if you behave,” he chided, earning an immediate raise of Louis’ head. Lestat couldn’t help it; he laughed, even if it was a deep, throaty one that barely made it further than vibrating into Louis’ bellybutton as Lestat practically made out with it. Louis looked so unbelievably precious, flushed and needy, both entertained, and frustrated. If Lestat didn’t know any better, he’d almost say it looked like love. But he did know better.
Lestat finally reached the hem of Louis’ joggers, and his fangs dropped once more. He needed them, of course, to rip Louis’ pants right down the front seam. The gasp he heard from Louis was consolation enough for not being able to actually see his face as he committed the action with a sharp downward tilt of his head. But he did look upward once more as he used his tongue to lift upward and peel back the waistband of Louis’ red-stained briefs. “Who needs help now?” he chided with a gentle laugh. He could tell Louis was seconds from telling him to shut up, so Lestat decided to not give him the chance and licked a slow, pointed line up the underside of Louis’ cock with a hardened tongue. When he reached the tip, one hand came up to grip the base of Louis’ member, holding it in place as his tongue darted back and forth against the most sensitive spot.
Louis’ entire body spasmed beneath Lestat, clutching onto whatever he could–the board, Lestat’s head, his shoulders, the glass behind him, and he cried. He had been teased for so long and then plunged head first into overstimulation, and his body trembled in the aftermath. He hadn’t even come yet; Lestat made sure of it, relenting his assault after a few seconds, and replacing it with the warmth of his mouth as his lips closed around Louis’ cock. Lestat knew he had made the right call when Louis was once again forcing his hips into Lestat, a quick hiss of air inhaled through clenched teeth meeting Lestat’s ears. He was in no rush either. He had all the time in the world to listen to this magnificent orchestral piece on a loop, so he decided that was exactly what he would do.
With each approach of that precipice, Lestat pulled his mouth off of Louis and pressed innocent kisses against Louis’ throbbing, twitching member, and reveled in the cries that accompanied the biting tension on his scalp when Louis gripped his hair. “Please,” Louis gasped, after the fourth soiled attempt at climax, “Lestat, please…” Lestat hummed in low approval against the base of Louis’ cock, taking the vampire’s sack into his lips with his tongue and applying some gentle suction, careful of fangs of course, but no doubt making a show of their presence as he did it. Louis looked beautiful, his bare chest a visual representation of Lestat’s love and place in Louis’ life, pupils blown with desire, shoulders racked with need as his legs shook in the older vampire’s hold, toes not even touching the ground. “ Please .”
Perhaps, Lestat thought, by the turn of the 21st century, the phrase could have graduated to ‘The fifth try’s the charm’, but if that was not true, it would have still been the case here. With Louis’ final plea, Lestat took Louis’ length into his mouth again and began to bob his head as he firmly grasped either sides of Louis’ waist. At one point, he wasn’t even certain if Louis was thrusting upward, or if he was pulling Louis into him with each soft groan as Louis’ cock hit the back of the vampire’s throat. It didn’t matter. All Lestat cared about was how perfect Louis sounded when he finally fell over that blissful edge and shot his warm, red load down the back of Lestat’s throat. The blonde vampire’s fingers curled around each of Louis’ ass cheeks, burying his love’s member deep into his throat as he finished, not allowing him to pull out until he was done.
And when he was, Lestat pulled back just enough to readjust his hold on Louis and immediately take Louis’ lips into his own again. The blood could be cleaned up later, and Lestat wasn’t wasteful. He had gotten all of it, but that didn’t account for what was on his lips as he kissed Louis, or the trail of blood down his love’s chest.
“So what part of your creative process was that ,” Louis finally asked, once Lestat had pulled away and pressed his forehead to Louis’. “And don’t say ‘help’, or I’m walking out.” Lestat smiled when Louis did, kissing him once more, gentler this time. He really was precious, and Lestat couldn’t help it.
It was ironic, however, and Lestat chuckled at that fact as he pressed another kiss to Louis’ forehead and gestured to the seat from before with a nod of his head as he gradually helped Louis drop to his feet. “You did help,” he answered matter-of-factly as he waited for Louis to take a seat.
He laughed again, silently this time, when Louis gave him a clearly perplexed look at the fact that Lestat seemed to think Louis was in any state to be sitting in a recording chair right now with his torn up clothes and bloodied self. “Lestat, I don’t know about you, but if my landlord had sex in my recording studio and bled all over my shit, I’d be upset.”
Perfect, as always. “Mon cher, you are their friend, not their landlord, and we did not have sex. But please, stand if you wish.” He gave a small tilt of his head, but at some point in the conversation, his smile had turned to a smug grin as he made his way over to the nearest monitor. “I have one thing to show you before you leave.” After a moment of scrolling through a portion of waveform audio to find what he was looking for, Lestat’s grin spread, and he hit the spacebar on the keyboard in front of him.
Louis’ confusion was evident first as harsh cries filled the room, but it was only a matter of seconds before the cries melted into obscenities, both verbal and otherwise. The younger vampire’s complexion paled for only a moment before he blinked and peered at Lestat with wide eyes. “You recorded me?”
“I recorded us,” Lestat corrected, finger pointing upward before he paused the audio with the very same finger. “I was there too, of course,” he paused with a smirk, leaning forward with his shoulders, “Or did you forget?”
“Lestat, why could you possibly want a recording of… that ?!” Louis demanded as he scooped his shirt off of the ground and clumsily pulled it over his head, pulling it taught downward in a feeble attempt to cover his now exposed member. He would have a fun time of that after Lestat tore open his joggers, but at least the underwear would cover it.
Lestat smiled, approaching Louis once more, but not before pressing play on the audio so that the sound filled the studio again. He had set it up before Louis got down here, of course, the necessary equipment to record in the room not meant for recording, and to have the audio play back over the speakers as opposed to the headphones which was usual custom. It had all been one great orchestration on his part, the pieces laid out far in advance. All he’d had to do was get Louis down here. “For my latest single. Next month’s drop needed a little something special for the backing track, and I think I found my new favorite instrument.”
His fingers curled into a loose fist as his knuckles brushed against Louis’ cheekbones. He smiled, staring with love into Louis’ eyes. “Do you like it?” He hoped Louis would. Personally, he’d been getting off to the idea for days, but telling Louis that would have spoiled the surprise. Almost as if pleading with Louis to like it instead of reacting poorly, he pressed a quick, soft kiss to Louis’ lips. But Louis did not allow it. Lestat felt both hands grip his face, holding him in place as Louis deepened the kiss. Lestat melted. So he did like it. Good.
When Lestat finally pulled away, there was a permanent smile on his face, even when Louis spoke again and attempted to don a serious demeanor which they both knew to be extraneous at this point. “I love it. But tell me next time, and I’ll at least bring another pair of pants.”
“Pants and Judith Butler, only the best for my Saint Louis,” Lestat mused with a gentle grin, his thumb gently stroking the side of Louis’ face. “I will do my best.” And with that, he kissed Louis again, if for no other reason than to prolong the amount of time before Louis had to do the walk of shame with his band mates. Lestat loved it, for one, but it drew more attention to whatever was happening between the two of them right now, which–what was happening between the two of them right now?
Lestat knew. He knew well enough to put Louis on a damn song, letting the world know that he loved, in all senses of the word, his old companion. He loved Louis, and that would never change. But by that same token, perhaps, he would never hear it from Louis. Seventy-seven years ago, Lestat was not certain he could have endured that. Now that he had lost it, he knew that it was all he wanted to endure. He would gladly spend the rest of eternity giving Louis all of the love he wished he would receive in return, and letting the whole world know.