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“You never told me the sun would do that to me,” Louis says, gritting his teeth through the pain as Lestat lifts him up into a bridal carry like he weighs nothing.
“I assumed you would have noticed I am only ever seen around town in darkness,” Lestat shrugs, as they begin to ascend the stairs.
Louis winces at the rawness of his burns brushing against Lestat’s shirt, even though he is being pretty gentle with him. It still hurts like hell.
“You shoulda warned me. You just watched me walk out into it.”
Lestat stops to pull the lever that’ll shut the sun out of the corridor, not letting Louis go as he does so. “You wouldn’t have listened, chéri. You were frantic, not hearing any other words I said. Why would that have been what got through? And besides that,” he practically scoffs. “I was blocked on that silly thing you said about going back to your family’s house.”
“Stuck on, not blocked on,” Louis corrects his translation error as he looks around the room Lestat then sets him down in. A room with a bed. It’s only when he tears his eyes away from it that he catches up to what else Lestat said. “Why’s it silly? It’s my house. I own it.”
“It was your house,” Lestat says, in the same tone Louis had when correcting his vocabulary. “We are married now. What happens when you have a husband, mon cher?”
Seeing where he’s going, Louis’ eyebrows furrow. “I’m a man. I gotta keep lookin’ after my family.”
But Lestat clicks his tongue. “Ah, ah, ah. Answer my question. What happens to one once they get a husband?”
“They move into their husband’s house,” Louis reluctantly replies. “But even my sister Grace stayed with us. Her husband’s movin’ into our place, and besides-”
“Precisely, mon ange,” Lestat cooed. “They will stay with your mother, and fill the house with however many screaming babes they wish for, but a married couple needs space of their own. We shouldn’t… empiet?... on theirs, and in the same way, I will not let anyone defile ours.”
“Impinge,” Louis corrects again, automatically. He doesn’t say anything further though. He’s thinking. What Lestat says kind of makes sense. Sure, logically, Louis knows it wasn’t a real wedding, and that it never could have been. But it’s the closest they’re gonna get. Lestat swore his love to him, and Louis gave him his life. It doesn’t make sense for them to live separately after that. And the whole vampire thing would probably make it difficult for them to try to live with humans.
Lestat smiles at him, and tears a nail along his wrist, offering it up. “For your burns, chéri. It will help you heal.”
Louis should be more hesitant taking it, after the swell of guilt and nausea that came to him after that tractor salesman that’s still lying in a rug downstairs, but he drunk from Lestat before and he was fine. Must be different for vampires. He wants it too much to think too deeply about it anyway.
“I can tell you the truth now, mon beau,” Lestat says, voice catching on the term of endearment as Louis’ fangs sink into him. “That you dreamed of but never dared think might come true. When I begged for your aid in selecting furniture for this house- books to fill the shelves- it was because I wanted you to choose what would be in your future home. You remember when we first met, and I told you that you were the man who had persuaded me to buy a house in this fine city? Right from the beginning, this house has always been yours as well.”
The words speed up, and Lestat is practically gasping them out as he gets to the end of his confession, head thrown back in ecstasy at the feeling of Louis drinking from him. But Louis forces himself to drop Lestat's wrist. The stinging sensitivity is almost entirely gone, and his skin's that’s no longer all that burnt up- all he’s aware of now is an itching need beneath his skin, growing with each of Lestat’s words, in time with the receding pain. And when it’s too much to bear, he gives in to it, launching himself at Lestat’s face, fangs still out, scraping his lips and tasting his blood from there as well, which just makes Lestat moan with delight as he’s pushed into the wardrobe behind him.
He’s the instigator, but Lestat embraces the roughness, yanking off the shirt that Louis already half ruined trying to pull it off when he was out in the sun. The buttons spring across the room, and the shirt is abandoned in a corner, certainly beyond saving now.
Lestat starts to step back, but Louis hungrily chases him, refusing to let their lips part, gripping tightly onto Lestat’s bulging arms- only really noticing now as he holds them how muscular they are. It’s never been all that visible through his layers of clothing, and even that night they had together, Louis’ gotta admit, it wasn’t one of the parts of him he was paying the most attention to.
Might explain how Lestat easily hoists him up again, but this time guiding Louis’ legs to lock around his waist, and when he walks backwards again, this time he takes Louis with him, consequently making Louis realise how much his dick has hardened when he feels the pressure of it pushed up against Lestat’s stomach.
The older vampire walks them back towards the bed, though it’s only when Louis feels the mattress underneath him that he realises that’s where they were going, and laughs shyly. “Phew. Thought you were gonna fuck me in a coffin or somethin’.”
Lestat grins, a dangerous, feline grin. “Another time, certainly. But it’s our wedding night, mon ange. You deserve a traditional bed for our consummation.”
Louis feels all the blood from the tractor salesman- and from Lestat- rush to his cheeks, and then he’s thinking about how Lestat’s blood pumping inside him is soon gonna be joined by something else of Lestat’s, but the other vampire is already dragging his pants down his legs, then crawling back up them, kissing relentlessly at his toes, his ankles, his calves. He’s murmuring things between the kisses as well, things Louis doesn’t even catch at first, and then he realises it’s praise, adulation, like he’s worshipping at Louis’ altar.
“I ain’t… n-nothin’ holy,” Louis pants out, as Lestat suddenly unleashes his tongue, licking a long stripe up the inside of Louis’ thigh. It’s obscene.
“You are to me,” that maddening, beautiful man says, gazing up at him from between his legs. “I have not believed in heaven since I was a child. Finally, I believe again.”
Louis shivers. He should be disgusted by such blasphemy, but he’s no pious man, hasn’t been one for a long time, and if he’s being honest, this moment is making him thing something pretty damn similar.
He’s tried with women, but they’ve never done much for him, and the only real experience he’s ever had with other men has been hurried, uncomfortable. Stolen moments out in the bayou where he knew he wouldn’t get caught. And even then, only face, which he used to rationalise was better than succumbing to his real desires and putting his cock somewhere it shouldn’t go, or having someone else’s in a part of him he knew was forbidden. He doesn’t know exactly why, but he feels safe to abandon all that here. Even last time he was here, with Lily, he let Lestat overwhelm his senses, bite him, and frot against him, but he whispered something frenzied about not doing anything further, and Lestat listened, understanding his fear without him having to voice it.
They’re married now. This is their home. No-one else’s but theirs. What's wrong in this?
This time, it’s slow, indulgent, and when Lestat tells him to wait a moment while he retrieves some oil from the bedside table, he doesn’t panic and think someone might be watching them, like he always used to.
He turns his head when he hears a clipping sound, and Lestat points out something about how long their nails are- how it could hurt if he doesn’t do this, but the words float over Louis, and then Lestat is back, and he’s fingering him open, lauding how tight he is, how clear it is he’s saved himself for his husband- something Lestat adds, he himself was never strong enough to do. Louis’ eyelids flicker shut a moment, but then he opens them, and he’s fixed with Lestat’s intensely piercing gaze- just like the one in his dreams last week that had him waking up to soaked sheets- but it’s not overwhelming enough now he knows he can have more. He’s entitled to it.
“Please,” Louis begs. “Touch me.”
“I am touching you, mon cher,” Lestat purrs, the fingers of his right hand opening and closing slightly to stretch Louis’ ass out, while his left hand strokes, feather-light across his chest, circling his nipples.
“My dick,” Louis clarifies, reaching to grab that left hand and put it where he wants it, and then his head falls back, because Lestat doesn’t waste any time, but immediately gets to rubbing a steady rhythm up and down. He barely even notices when Lestat adds a third finger into his ass, in fact, he feels pretty comfortably full back there. All the sensation is concentrated on his cock right now.
Suddenly Lestat’s fingers slow, and Louis starts to make a noise of protest, when he feels that gentle hand caress his balls, and then one of the fingers glides purposefully down a vein, pressing in with a little more pressure than before.
“I’d like to think all the blood that got down here is mine, hmm, mon amour?” He says blithely, and a wave of pleasure starts to crest. “Doesn’t it feel that way, Lou? Your meal didn’t excite you that way- I made sure of it.” Louis groans, remembering how Lestat steered him away from that sailor he first wanted to get his fangs into. “It's the same for me. I can tell the difference between your blood and that priest's. It's yours that rushed down to my cock.”
Fuck, Louis thinks, and very little else, because the wave has reached its peak now, and it crashes down onto him, making him squirm and whine, most definitely feeling those fingers in his ass now, as well as the moment Lestat pulls them out.
“Mm,” Lestat hums, kissing Louis’ still trembling lips and running a hand across his cheek. “I think my little virginal saint should be loose enough for me to make love to him now.”
Louis is too dazed to react to an epithet he might have usually seen as embarrassing. Spread out under Lestat, he feels that string between them so strong he can almost physically see it. He wonders if this is how it is for all new vampires and the person who made them, or if, as he hopes, it’s just something special between the two of them.
Then Lestat pulls two pillows up from beside his head to slide underneath his hips, and uses the leverage to guide the tip of his dick into Louis. It’s not any more girthy than the fingers that were in him before, but Lestat’s been swinging it around enough already he knows it’s a good bit longer. Lestat’s going painfully slow, asking him how he’s doing, telling him how brave he’s being, but all Louis wants is for all of it to be inside him. For some reason, he can’t seem to get those words out his mouth, they keep stuttering past his lips, coming out unintelligible. Finally, Lestat understands, and his lips curve up.
“Oh, mon cœur,” he coos. “I would like nothing more.”
And he exhales a long breath Louis’ not even sure they need as he slowly sinks the rest of the way down. Louis’ eyes roll up into his head for a second, losing his sense of the mattress beneath him or the room around him, and certainly of anything that might be outside this house’s walls. All that feels real to him is Lestat inside him. And that string tying them together? It’s as good as snapped, cos they’re not two connected beings anymore, but one.
When Louis looks back down, Lestat is staring at him, eyes full of awe, an almost maniacal grin on his face. “Louis,” he says. “You are glowing.” And then, in French, whether he can’t remember the words in English or because he feels he’s gotta express himself in his mother tongue right now, “You are now as you were always meant to be.”
Louis shudders, feeling another wave of orgasm creeping up on him.
“If you had not come to me tonight,” Lestat confesses, still in French, abandoning English altogether. “I would have had to come find you myself, taken you from those who do not appreciate all you have done for them, freed you from these shackles of a life that could never give you what you have wanted and needed. I needed you here tonight, one way or another.”
It’s objectively disturbing, but for some reason, Louis’ brain is nowhere to be found right now, and the words go straight to his cock. He comes, and simultaneously, he locks his legs around Lestat’s waist, making the blond vampire gasp as he shifts the angle, and clings to his back. Because he did not clip his own nails, he draws blood- he can smell it in the air.
Turned animalistic by it all, Lestat growls and grabs Louis’ legs, hoisting them up over his shoulders and rutting into him fast- all that sense of slow indulgence out the window. His balls are slapping against Louis’ flesh, and Louis can tell that more from the sound than the feeling of it, cos his whole body is tingling right now, head twisting back and forth on the pillow. But he does feel it when Lestat spasms against him, shooting his load deep inside of him.
Louis groans, the brief guilty thought that that’s not where that’s meant to go flickering across his mind, before he remembers that they’re dead and they ain’t gonna be making any babies anyhow, so what does it matter? And then all he’s left with is the perverse pleasure of being full of Lestat’s spend, alongside his blood.
Well, that’s all, until another familiar feeling creeps up on him, suddenly so intense that it must have been building without him ever paying it any intention.
“Lestat,” he mutters, confused as all get out. “I-I feel like I’m gon’-”
“Ah,” Lestat says, a level of clarity in his voice Louis is nowhere close to feeling. And the English is back as well. “You have to relieve yourself? You ca- wait. Give it to me.”
“What?” Louis stares at him blankly, the pressure continuing to build, automatically making him squeeze, like he’s done all his life, even though he assumed from what Lestat had said earlier that his body had rid itself of all that, and he wouldn’t ever be feeling this way again. “I thought-”
“We go in a toilet just like a mortal,” Lestat explains, pulling out, and despite the desperation Louis is feeling, the loss feels wrong. “But I’d like it if you gave it to me, let me taste it. What do you think, chéri? Will you?”
“Wha- I…” Louis glances at the door, but Lestat taps the side of his jaw, pushing lightly to get his attention back on him.
“I am serious, Louis. I want it. S’il te plait. Your husband is here for you.”
Louis watches him slide down the side of the bed and fall to his knees beside it, and he would like to be able to say that he comes up with some rational reason for what he does next, like that he decided he wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom, wherever it was, but truthfully, his brain is still recovering, and he doesn’t think about it at all. He just pisses into Lestat’s wide open mouth. He pisses red, viscous liquid- blood- into Lestat’s mouth. And Lestat fucking loves it. A guttural noise comes from the back of his throat, and when Louis finishes, looking down at him, the shame and disgust catching up to him, he rushes at him, pinning him onto the bed again, ravishing his lips like he wants to leave them swollen.
When he pulls back to gaze down on Louis, he has that crazed, adoring look in his eyes again.
“Louis! Mon dieu, that was incredible. Now you drink from me and I will give it back to you and so we can keep passing it between ourselves, oui?”
Louis can’t tell if he’s joking now, but he gives him a warning look, because he thinks there’s a fair chance he’s not. “We ain’t fuckin’ doin’ that. So get your sick mind back in your head.”
Lestat tosses his hair behind his shoulders, smirking and giving Louis one more smacking kiss before taking his hand, pulling him up off the bed. “Ah, very well. I suppose it is likely not possible to subsist purely off of each other, but I can dream.” He clicks some sort of button hidden on an ornate dresser, and a pair of wooden doors Louis hadn’t even noticed clicks open. Chivalrously, Lestat gestures for Louis to go on ahead, and while the new vampire is staring at the coffin sat right in front of him, he closes the doors behind them with another hidden lever. “I can live with your blood leaving my system,” he continues, sighing mournfully, prowling towards the coffin, lifting its lid. “As long as you remain by my side every night for the rest of eternity.”
Louis tears his eyes away from the coffin- replete with pillows and some sort of soft cushioning, but still very much a coffin, and glances back at the doors locking him out of the bedroom. “Can’t we just sleep in the bed? Why’ve we gotta…”
“I have made this room safe for us, mon cher,” Lestat explains. “And a coffin is the safest place of all for a vampire. Especially when they lock from the inside. Now, come, get some rest. We will get you your own soon enough. For now, you can be on top.”
Louis blushes at the innuendo, and Lestat smirks. “Tomorrow night, certainly,” he promises. “But for now, you really do need your sleep.”
Lestat steps into the coffin, and Louis hesitantly steps closer, feeling the need to be close to him again. Even if the idea of sleeping in a coffin is disconcerting, the idea of sleeping against Lestat is… Appealing, to say the least.
Surprisingly, when he gets in Lestat doesn’t make any comments, just lets him make himself comfortable, before he asks, “are you ready for me to close the lid?”
“I’ll do it,” Louis decides, reaching up and only taking a moment before he does.
Lestat smiles at him as he reaches around him to click the lock shut, and he can see it, not as well as he would be able to in the light, but it’s a dark, enclosed space. He should be able to see nothing. The fact that he can makes him feel a good deal more comfortable.
Nuzzling into him, as if he’s really never gonna let him go, Lestat murmurs. “This house has been waiting for you, Louis. I have been waiting for you. At last, it feels complete.”
At those words, Louis feels his heart swell, and the tension leaves his body, letting him relax fully into Lestat as well.