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“I didn’t expect to find you here again”
Armand didn’t turn, he didn’t startle and he didn’t even go as far as blinking to acknowledge the other’s presence. He remained still, even impossibly so, watching intently the faint reflections of the candles dancing in the colored glass of the church’s windows.
His eyes burned with that same reflection, his orangish irises fragmented into dozens of different shades. The lights cast a malleable tenderness to his face, the black curls framing it in a sort of trembling haze that could have been charcoal drawn for how soft it looked. Lestat waited, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. It wasn’t like he couldn’t stand perfectly still but there was something in Armand that made him… not exactly nervous. Restless. That could be the word he was looking for.
Like he was eager to do something.
He had tried to read the thoughts flowing from the other’s mind, but he didn’t seem inclined to let him have more than a quick pick and so Lestat ended up resigning. It wasn’t useful and it wasn’t like he didn't have eyes to see that he was focused on something.
“It must be quite the sight in broad daylight, don’t you think?” he commented, his voice nothing more than a whisper, every word chasing the other briefly in a faint echo reverberating in the emptiness around them. They both knew there were humans there, hidden in the shadows of the church. They could hear their heartbeats and their poor, desperate thoughts directed to God - or to anyone who would listen, really.
Lestat took a look at the big colored windows depicting an intricate drawing, shrugging a little.
“I guess.”
Armand made a soft sound that resembled the idea of his tongue clicking against the inside of his mouth, but the noise was so muffled that any ear that wasn’t the one of a vampire probably couldn’t catch that.
“You guess.” he echoed, turning a little to face the man standing next to him. Lestat lost himself in his irises for a moment, the almost imperceptible tremble of the candle lights casting burning ambery reflections in them.
It was captivating to watch, a work of art that he found himself more drawn to admire than the stained glass over his head.
The colored pieces composing the face of a saint looked just dull compared to him, darkness favoring the beauty of a creature that was able to hide in it as much as to almost push it away, gleaming of a light that came from nowhere but was still there, making him shine to Lestat’s eyes.
Armand frowned and the expression carving in his face made him suddenly more human. A feature unexpected that made the other vampire soften his gaze as he studied him.
A part of him was still angry with Armand, for how he treated them and how he kidnapped Nicki and wanted to burn them all in a pyre - that was not very friendly, thank you - but for how unforgivable everything seemed, Lestat still felt for him a pity and a curiosity that softened the harshness of it all.
In a way, he understood why Armand did what he did. And judging by his distraught appearance, he hadn’t had an easy night in a while.
Lestat carefully got closer, one step after the other, until he was in Armand’s personal space, inches away from him.
Underneath the earthy smell of soil and the more sour one of the catacombs of the cemetery there was something softer that passed briefly, reminding him of the early spring air in the apple orchard in his old house, back to his father’s place, when the flowers were just starting to bloom. It was an enticing contrast, something that conflicted with a richer and faintly bitter scent of still warm embers, the same fragrance that permeated the room where he and Nicki used to go and talk until only darkness was around them. He took another deep breath, bittersweet memories coming and going in a hazy blur. That was when the smell of burned logs and something more ashy reached him, putting an end to the images coming from his past.
He tilted his head, looking at the other’s face.
Armand kept his brows furrowed but he mimicked his move, tilting his head too to follow Lestat’s gaze.
The dark skin of his face was covered in a thin layer of what seemed like dust, except for a cleaner and faintly reddish trace left behind on his cheeks that made Lestat wonder if he had just cried. He probably did and the thought sent a pang of guilt twisting in his guts.
After a moment where only the crackling of the flame and the rumbling of their hearts were to disturb the silence, Lestat felt compelled to speak.
“I mean no harm. I was just…”
He hesitated, then sighed. “I was just looking for you.”
It was pointless to try to hide that. There was no other reason that could have brought him to Notre Dame that night, except the searching for Armand’s presence.
No answer came except for those liquid amber irises staring back at him, prodding at his mind as to see if he was telling the truth.
He let him look. He wasn’t lying, after all.
Lestat pointed to the church walls surrounding them.
“Were you looking to test your luck again against the coven? Or… Satan?” He couldn’t hide the blunt note of mockery in his tone but Armand's face showed just a glimpse of irritation before an emotion that Lestat never thought of seeing on him took over: tiredness.
He suddenly looked worn down to the bones, as if every single thing that kept him together had just been cut off.
“I was looking for solitude but it appears you have acquired a taste for taking things away from me. Especially things I desire, it seems.”
The silence that fell over them once again was now heavier and for a second Lestat's thoughts rushed back to their previous encounter. Were they going to start beating each other up again?
He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to hurt Armand, he never intended to in the first place. If they had left him alone he would have done the same.
The past couldn’t be changed, that was for sure. But he still could try to prevent another fight from erupting again, since he was not in a mood for that.
He really - really - didn’t look for him to have another go at punching each other.
“Well, I can go away if you want me to. As said, I do not intend to harm you. But-”
Lestat let his gaze take in his poor state. Armand's clothes looked dirtier and more tattered than before and now that he was taking a better look at him, his black hair was tousled although it still looked soft enough that he felt compelled to reach out and move a wave out of his forehead.
He did it slowly, giving him the time to retract if he didn’t want to accept the gesture.
Armand’s stance became more tense, but he didn’t move away and that for Lestat was a victory itself. His warm fingers brushed against the other’s skin and Lestat couldn’t abstain from clicking his tongue with a slight undertone of disappointment.
“You’re cold. Very, cold.”
“I am not a child.” Armand sneered, his mouth forming a hard and thin line “I am way older than you. I know how and when to feed myself.”
Lestat sighed, shaking his head.
“It was an observation, not an accusation.”
“Maybe not an accusation, but you can’t deny it was judgemental nonetheless.” Lestat laughed softly and the irritation on Armand’s face came and went with another burst of amusement shaking him slightly.
“It was more of a preoccupied consideration, really. Anyway, instead of discussing my intentions-” he blocked Armand's reproach by holding up his finger in front of his mouth, although he didn’t touch it “-I have an idea. Allow me to offer you partial solitude. In my company, but my company alone.” Armand looked curious enough that he went on, smiling a bit. It wasn’t a straight up refusal and that was already something.
“I’ve kept a room in a place nearby. I can promise clean clothes and a warm bath. I know you came here because the others of the coven don't set foot in churches but I can promise that they probably don’t know about my room either. Unless they’ve followed you, we should be left in peace.”
Armand breathed slowly and then started to move towards the exit, passing from one shadow to the other silently enough to go unnoticed by the mortals lurking in the pools of light or hiding away in the dark. Lestat followed him, accepting his decision to move first.
As he moved, he spoke softly.
“There’s no one left that could’ve followed me.”
When he reached the door he turned, looking at Lestat. They stopped, as frozen in time.
The soft glow of the moon coming from outside cast a silvery halo around his black curls that resembled the one of a saint, his orangish eyes glowing in the shadows that had hidden his face, leaving out only the sharp outlines of his profile.
He looked like a creature that had no reason to exist on Earth. He was beautiful and Lestat felt inside him the burning fire of yearning. He wanted to touch him, he wanted to kiss him. He wanted to turn around and flee as fast as he could.
Silence stretched between them. Armand’s lips curled as terrible words soured his mouth.
“I’ve burned them. I’ve burned them all.”
They made it back to Lestat’s room without talking. Armand was quiet, so much so that if it wasn’t for the fact that he could hear his heart beating steadily near him and smell the faint sweetness of his blood, Lestat would feel compelled to look behind him to see if the other was actually following him.
He walked silently behind him, passing lightly in the shadows in a way that made it look like Lestat was walking by his own.
In the brief time it took them to get to the hotel he kept hearing those words running around in circles in his brain.
I’ve burned them. I’ve burned them all.
He wanted to ask why he did it but he couldn’t find in himself the strength to do it. After Armand’s admission he had simply started walking, a soft “come” that prompted the other vampire into motion too.
Was it his fault if they all died? Was it because he had - as Armand said - disrupted something that had been set into motion centuries before he was even born? He couldn’t help but wonder how it happened: sure, Armand was strong, but he was alone. If they had really wanted to kill him, to rebel against him, they could have, couldn’t they? Or maybe not. Maybe they were too scared to do it. Maybe something in them had changed when Lestat had come and spoke about a way of living so different from their own, but the tether they had with the one who acted as their guide or master or whatever figure Armand represented was too strong for them to break it.
Or they weren’t present enough to their minds to actually understand they could hurt him if they wanted to.
Maybe it wasn’t fear as much as simple stupidity.
Lestat wondered how Armand - that looked so incredibly calm now - could have just committed a massacre. He looked like he didn’t even care about it, although for how he had reacted when he had come to save Nicki, Lestat knew that he did. Or at least, a part of him did. He hoped so.
It was difficult to read him and although he had seen the anger and the desperation breaking through his face more than once, those moments weren’t enough to make him fully understand how he felt about what he just did. He might as well ask, but he wasn’t sure he would get an answer.
Armand disappeared when they entered the hotel and Lestat ordered to prepare a bath, but when he got in the room he was there, the door closed behind his back and those orangish eyes staring at him.
He slowly started to circle the room in light and silent steps, studying everything inside it.
He wrapped his slim fingers around one of the empty vases that decorated the room, admiring it. Then he put it back. Armand repeated the gesture with other furniture and ornaments around, touching them and studying them in silence.
He passed the palm of one hand on the covers of the perfectly intact bed, leaving behind a faint trace of what Lestat supposed was either dirt or cinder.
“It’s a pretty room, isn’t it?” Lestat tried to initiate a conversation but Armand didn’t answer, lost in his thoughts that were barricaded behind an impenetrable wall that the other vampire couldn’t break, no matter how he tried: Armand’s mind was a mystery that he opened to others only at his own volition.
On the other hand the opposite wasn’t exactly true and Lestat could feel him observing his emotions and reactions. He let him do as he pleased: he wasn’t trying to get much out of him, just the fleeting thoughts passing by.
When they came to fill the bathtub he hid so quickly that even Lestat didn’t know where he had gone and was surprised to see him next to him just a second after the door had been closed again. “Well, I suppose it’s ready.” Armand stared down at the water, completely frozen in a very unnatural way for a human being. But he wasn’t human, after all, so…
Lestat looked at him, trying to read in his face any kind of emotions. He could see them mixing and changing behind his eyes, making his irises sparkle and twinkle in different ways, but they didn’t change any other part of him.
Until something shifted ever so slightly and suddenly his expression was one that Lestat could recognize behind any doubt: desire. A brutal and painfully clear yearning that made him look like he was even suffering.
Lestat couldn’t stop himself. “When was the last time you took a bath? A proper one, I mean.” It could’ve sounded as a rude question but the softness with which it had been spoken carried a compassion that allowed it to sound more like a recognition than a mockery. And although Armand flinched slightly at the hint of pity badly hidden in it, he murmured an answer.
“I don’t remember.”
It was natural for Lestat to reach out towards him, brushing his fingertips against the tattered clothes he was wearing.
“Let me help.” He slowly prompted Armand to turn so they were facing and when he complied and didn’t protest or tried to pull away, Lestat started to undress him, in calm and gentle motion.
Slowly, even slowlier than any human would be capable of doing, taking infinite seconds of time to discover every part of him, letting the fabric - already in a poor state, really - fall to the floor without minding it.
All his focus was directed to Armand: to his shoulders and his torso, a thin line of black chest hair on his otherwise perfectly smooth skin.
Before undressing him he hadn’t realized that Armand wasn’t by any means as small as he was capable of appearing.
His chest was broad and slightly muscular, his arms thin but strong, his neck slender and graceful, touched softly by the black curls hanging just a bit over his shoulders.
Lestat found himself tracing the line of one of his collarbone, feeling the softness of his skin against his own.
Again he noticed how cold he was, but this time he didn’t comment on it.
His posture was rigid and his shoulders tensed in a way that made Lestat think this was not something that usually happened. If anything it was as unusual as him being in an actual room and not underneath a cemetery. Despite the nervous tension that seemed to run through every muscle of his body, he didn’t move. When he leaned forward to kiss gently the base of his neck, feeling the rumbling of his blood passing underneath his lips, Armand took in a sharp breath but didn’t try to push him away, nor Lestat found himself on the other side of the room so- probably a good sign. Now that they were so close, the tip of his nose pressing against him, the call of his blood was almost intoxicating.
He restrained from licking him, although he really wanted to, and by the sigh escaping Armand’s lips he had read his thoughts and wasn’t really upset by the idea.
But Lestat pulled away nonetheless, going back to the undressing part.
“I don’t want the bath to run cold.”
When he started to pull off his pants Armand’s posture turned even more rigid than before, his teeth clenching a little in a way that set his expression on edge.
“I am not going to hurt you.” Lestat reminded him, letting the garment fall to the ground as he did with the upper part, leaving him fully naked.
He took a small step back, staring at the man in front of him. He tried not to be too indiscrete, really, but there was no way in which he couldn’t allow himself to notice how beautiful Armand was.
He had sculpted thighs and long legs that made him look taller than he looked when he was wrapped around those clothes that had long lost any shape. He briefly thought that some more close-fitting trousers would make a great fit for him.
Overall he had a lithe body, smooth if not for some hair here and there.
For lack of better words, he was simply perfect.
Lestat really tried to not let his eyes wander in between his legs, redirecting them at his face that still carried a certain tension in it.
Armand tilted his head and a smile curved Lestat’s lips upwards.
“You know what? You look like an owl. I’ve seen some of them. They tilt their head like you do and your eyes- they are kinda similar in color.”
Armand looked so amusingly taken aback by his affirmation that Lestat couldn’t keep a light chuckle from coming out of his mouth.
He gestured to the bath, then.
“Get in, come on. I’ll help you wash.”
After a brief moment of hesitation Armand did as he was told and he sat in the tube, a satisfied groan coming out of his mouth as the warm water embraced his body.
The tightness washed away from his face, leaving behind a pang of sadness quickly hidden by a sort of incommensurable relief.
Lestat let him soak for a moment in silence.
He had closed his eyes and his long, black eyelashes cast a gentle shadow on his cheek that made him want to lean down and polish away the dirtiness on his face with kisses.
It took him a great amount of self control to just not do that. Instead, he took a cloth and some soap.
Slowly, he took one of his hands and started to scrub gently, washing him.
He noticed how Armand’s hand was trembling as he did so, but it was clear to him that it wasn’t out of fear. Lestat briefly wondered how much time had passed since someone had taken care of him, since he had been touched with care. Or even touched at all.
His nails had dirt underneath and he made sure to take it off before moving up his arm.
He only made it to his shoulders before Armand spoke softly, so much so that if it wasn’t for their enhanced hearing Lestat doubted he could have been able to hear him.
“You were right. I cared. I did care about them. But I had to. They wouldn’t have been able to live as you promised them. They would have gone crazy in a month or so, killing themselves if they were lucky, or going on a killing spree if they were not. They would have fought, then. Or at least they would have tried. It would have been worse, so much worse. Chasing them down, seeing them struggle as much as they could to survive a life that was never meant to be theirs. Yes, it was just better like this. You have made it impossible for me to take any other path. You woke them up in a nightmare that had no end for them. I gave them peace.”
Lestat listened in silence, stopped mid motion with the cloth still on Armand's shoulder.
He hadn’t expected him to come back to the argument after all of that but a part of him, for how small it could be, was pleased that he had chosen to do so.
“So… You killed them out of helplessness.”
Not knowing how to guide them in a world that he barely knew, he had just tried to not prolong their suffering into a hopeless pursuit. It made sense, although it was a very drastic idea of giving peace. “I killed them out of mercy.”
He opened his eyelids just an inch, enough to glare at him.
“Even if you had come back and explained to them how to live in between humans they wouldn’t have made it. You know what they did when I lit the pyres? Nothing. They didn’t try to run away, except for four of them. They were the clever ones. They might be able to make it out alive of this whole ordeal you caused. But I don’t really know. Probably not even God can know.”
Lestat's head shot up at that.
“You only talked about serving Satan down at the cemetery. So… I guess that if you believe in Satan you also believe in God but- I mean, do you?”
Armand stayed silent for a moment, his eyes closing again, fingers brushing ever so slightly against each other. Lestat wondered if he was going to answer a question that, he realized, was probably too personal to ask in such a way.
So, he was surprised when he heard him speak again.
“I do.” he whispered although he didn’t look back and it seemed to Lestat that in a way he was lost in those impenetrable thoughts of him. His voice carried a sort of unexpected sadness, leaving behind a fragile echo of feelings that dissipated quickly but was felt deep inside.
“But don’t suppose I believe in Him the same way you do” Lestat was about to open his mouth again but Armand was quicker, his tone shifting into something not really harsh, but not soft either.
“I have not much desire to talk about it. Although-” He seemed to linger again in old memories that Lestat had no way to know if they weren't spoken out loud, fingers still touching each other in what he could now suppose was some kind of self comforting gesture. “It has been a while since I actually…”
He let the words die in his mouth, losing the thought or more likely preventing Lestat from hearing it.
Armand, eyes still closed, reached out with his hands in a cup and scooted up some water that he splashed on his face. He did it with an unnecessary resolution, making it clear that the conversation was over. The other vampire just decided not to force him over it. It would have been pointless too.
As Lestat watched the droplets of dirty water slowly roll down his cheeks and back into the bathtub, he suddenly realized that part of the stuff covering Armand’s hair and face were the ashy remains of their kind.
He tried not to think about it as he resumed his gentle scrubbing, ignoring as best as he could that he was peeling them away too.
“You could have let them try.”
The sigh passing through Armand's lips was so sad that he almost repent saying that thing. “My existence was already burdened by theirs. I had no desire to make it a burden to them too. Or to complicate my life even further, for that matter. If you desire to atone your guilt by seeing me as a monster, I won’t stop you. I don’t care. I did what I had to do. I did what was needed.”
As I had always done.
The phrase was not spoken nor thought in a way that was perceptible by Lestat, but it still hung heavily in the air between them.
There was something in the way that Armand had spoken that made him drop the argument all together. Maybe it was because he didn’t know much about him, maybe because he didn’t really want to think about his own responsibilities in those deaths.
After all he couldn’t change what happened and right now the only person who was there was Armand.
Armand had had a pull on him from the second they met in that church and despite everything he had done to him, he still wanted him. He wanted to stay with him and here they were, alone.
He realized how he hadn’t spared a thought for Gabrielle and Nicki since he found him in Notre Dame that night and he felt a stroke of guilt passing through him. But the desire to be with Armand was just stronger than anything else at the moment.
So he just went back to what he was doing before.
Slowly but methodically he cleaned his arms, his neck, his back and all the other parts of his body.
The other seemed to lean into the touch more and more, the trembling shifting and becoming more like a shudder of pleasure, and by the time Lestat moved to washing his hair Armand had completely relaxed inside the bathtub, his arms lazily anchored to the edges and his eyelids fluttering lightly.
The silence stretching in between them had been given enough time to pass from awkwardly heavy to pleasantly accepted, pushing away any kind of tension between them.
After all, they couldn’t go back and for how much Lestat could resent what happened, he didn’t mind the present they had.
He started to wet his hair by splashing water with his hand before washing it, using his fingers to try to gently brush the tousled locks.
It took him a while but when he was finished Armand’s curls looked soft and untangled, and he nodded, satisfied with his work.
Lestat fingers gently hold his chin to prompt him to tilt his head backwards, so that soap couldn’t get in his eyes as he rinsed it away.
The pulse point on Armand’s neck jumped slightly at the touch and the other vampire smiled a little, letting his fingertips pass over the delicate spot to feel it.
Armand whispered a soft moan that he felt, his skin vibrating softly underneath his touch.
He was so beautiful, abandoned in such a way that made him lose his usual stone-like composure, wet hair dripping droplets of water that ran down his nape and then fell softly away.
He looked like a painting, not a saint anymore but still so divine that Lestat just felt the need to kiss his face gently, fingers stroking lightly at that part that was so sacred to them, creatures who took life to survive, who drank blood to live.
He imagined himself sinking his teeth there, piercing the vein and accessing the blood he felt running through him, pulling it outside of him with every avid sip - even in his fantasy he knew there was no way for him to just be patient, to enjoy it little by little. He thought about his taste, how it would permeate every part of his mouth, burn pleasantly down his throat before spreading a new warmth in his guts.
And oh how gently he would cradle him as he drank him, his arms wrapped softly around him as if he was the most important treasure he could ever hold.
Despite the ravenous hunger he would use to devour him he would still softly play with his hair and caress his perfect back-
The desperate moan Armand made snapped him out of his fantasy.
Lestat lowered his gaze to his face and despite the lack of blood to do that, it still felt hot to the fingers that were grazing against his cheek.
His orangish eyes were cloudy with a strong desire and his lips were lightly parted, one hand gripping the edge of the bathtub with almost enough strength to bend it. In a moment, it was clear to him what had just happened.
“Armand.” he muttered softly, smiling in a more mischievous way “Were you reading my thoughts again?”
He didn’t wait for an answer as he rubbed his fingers against his pulse point before letting his thumb slip up to his mouth, touching it softly.
His lips felt almost like velvet against his skin and Armand trembled softly at the touch, but it wasn’t fear that shined in his eyes.
“Seems to me like you were enjoying them.”
Another sound escaped his lips and Lestat smiled, finishing up with his task, rinsing his hair.
When he was done he leaned over him, gently kissing his right cheek.
“There. All done.”
He whispered it in his ear and Armand shuddered again, a wet hand reaching out to grab Lestat’s shirt. He let him do it but he prompted him to sit straight and pull himself upwards.
“Come on, get out of the bath. The water is almost cold.”
Armand didn’t make any resistance in letting Lestat help getting him out of the bathtub and accepted being roughly dried up by him, although he kept his hand firmly holding the fabric.
When he was done, Lestat moved with him to take some clothes to dress him up with.
As Armand’s eyes ran to his previous attire, still on the floor, Lestat scoffed.
“I would not have you in dirty clothes again.” “What if I wanted to.”
Taken aback by his response he stopped in the process of taking a shirt to give him.
“You… want to put on dirty clothes?”
Armand seemed to reflect upon the question. “No. But what if I wanted to. Would you stop me from doing that?”
Lestat looked at him, perplexed by his words.
“You’re free to do as you wish but you followed me here on your own will and you let me bathe you with that same willing concession so… what would be the point in putting on dirty clothes? You’re free to do so if you wish to but-”
He shrugged slightly and waited but Armand seemed satisfied with his answer and let go of him, starting to look at the clothes by himself.
Lestat let him do as he pleased and watched him put on a clean shirt that fitted him quite well and some trousers that were only a little bit short for him. He looked like a whole different person now, dressed up as a man of the current century, his curly still damp hair wetting the fabric on his shoulders with tiny droplets of water.
Lestat reached out to caress his face gently, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.
“You are beautiful.” he whispered, fingers lingering on his cold skin. He didn’t even realize how close they got until Armand’s breath caressed his face gently.
His eyes had turned more red now, a shade that still complimented him somehow.
“I want to kiss you.” The admission slipped out of Lestat’s mouth before he could stop himself and was met with a long silence that became almost unbearable, to the point that he was about to say something else - anything, really - if Armand’s didn’t lean in and closed the space between them, pressing his lips against his own.
It wasn’t by any means a kiss that could be definable passionate. They were barely pressing their mouths together, but despite that Lestat felt an almost violent shiver pass through his body as the desire that he had felt since their first encounter found a sort of sudden release in that simple action.
He found himself holding onto the other man as if his life depended on it and as they brushed their lips together in soft and gentle movement he moaned, pressing him without even realizing it against the wall behind them.
It lasted just some moments but they were enough for him to be panting when they parted, Armand’s big eyes looking at him intently.
His body was so cold that Lestat shivered again as he kissed his neck and this time he gave in to the instinct to lick the soft skin there, ripping a whimper out of Armand.
In a way, those sounds that broke his impassible usual demeanor were like dry wood tossed into the fire that was burning in him.
“You need to feed.” he murmured against him, lips grazing against the soft spot just beneath his ear “Let me help. Feed through me. I’ve eaten before coming to look for you. I have plenty to share.”
Armand’s head tilted lightly, exposing his neck more.
“You first.” he muttered, pushing himself slightly against Lestat’s mouth. “Then me.”
Lestat shot a worried look at him.
“Are you convinced that’s a good idea? You’re-”
“Yes.”
He didn’t even let him finish, nodding resolutely.
“You first. I-”
He gulped down in a way so human and desperate that Lestat felt the need to rub his side softly in a gesture of comfort.
“I never let the others feed on me. I was too- too strong for them. But you have Magnus blood. You are already a powerful being Lestat and you know that. I just-”
He interrupted himself again but this time around Lestat was quick to catch up with it.
“You need it. I understand.”
A part of his mind flinched at the thoughts of Armand being isolated from his own kind in such a way. Despite the fact that he had only drunk from another vampire a couple of times, he had seen how much different it looked, how powerful the feeling was for both parties involved.
“Do it.” Armand whispered above him, hands gripping the back of his shirt with so much force that Lestat thought he was about to rip it apart “I’ve seen your thoughts. You want it too.”
Well, he couldn’t say it wasn’t true.
So he kissed his neck again gently before he just bit down on it, sinking his teeth in. The skin gave away without resistance and as soon as Armand’s blood was in his mouth he felt an immense wave of pleasure and desire crushing over him.
If he hadn’t had his mouth occupied, he would have gasped at the sensations he was feeling.
He felt Armand’s heartbeat thrum in his own body as he tasted that same flowery scent that brought back the memory of the orchard, the breeze passing through rustling leaves carrying that faint sweetness of the flowers blooming all around. The delicateness of that was quickly followed by a richer and more acrid taste, something that reminded him of the sensation of inadvertently touching still warm coals. Unpleasant at first, but then kinda desirable when the biting of the chill winter air was all around. And then a faintly bitter aftertaste spread into his mouth, something that made his tongue tingle and left him with the desire to have more and more from him. He could feel the powerfulness of his blood, the way it sang a melody of desire in his ears with every stolen heartbeat.
Images that he couldn’t understand passed through his mind, fragments of memories that made no sense but that showed a city with water all around, a man that was clearly a vampire too - Armand’s maker maybe? - and paintings and faces almost forgotten - and along with that the pleasure that he was feeling as Lestat fed on him, the burning desire felt and not shown at their first encounter. Fire and screams, guilt and pain, mixing and dancing with the twisted complicated emotions of fear and desire at Lestat’s idea of living within the mortals, chasing in a maddening and nonsensical whirl that left behind only the strong sense of relief at feeling the blood being drawn out of him.
Armand was such a complex mystery underneath his facade, so beautiful and terrible at the same time. He wanted to uncover all of that, wanted to know him and be known by him until they were both so naked that they could be nothing but the same.
He drank without restraint, taking almost violently what he wanted, like in his fantasy. And yet he held him sweetly, hand still rubbing his side as he took and took and took.
It was only when the other’s head lolled back with unwanted abandonment and his heartbeat slowed down that Lestat forced himself to stop, pulling away from him.
He found himself holding up his now pliable and lass body, his eyes glossy and distant in a way that was almost moving.
Lestat kissed his lips again before taking him completely in his arms, carrying him towards the bed.
The trail of blood running down his neck stained the white shirt but Lestat didn’t mind. Armand was colder now, his skin had lost some of its color, and he looked fragile enough that he would have been scared if it wasn’t for the adoring look still on his face.
Every barrier had been gone now and he was so honestly open in showing how much pleasure he had experienced that Lestat couldn’t resist and, when he had positioned them both on the cover, he licked the wound on his neck making him sigh softly.
He caressed his back, holding him against himself while the other hand found his nape and then his head, fingers scraping his scalp as he guided him against his own neck.
“Your turn.” he muttered “Come on. Drink.”
It didn’t take much more to have him sink his teeth in too - a sharp burning pain that subsided almost immediately, replaced by the pleasure of being consumed by another in such an intimate way.
Lestat let him take what he wanted, memories of his childhood and then his life in Paris mixing and flowing in chaotic associations that brought him back and forth in time without him minding much about it.
He had nothing to hide after all and he was too focused on the marvelous sensation of being devoured by Armand to care.
The warmth that had pooled in his guts at the feeding changed shape, becoming a feverish burn of both pleasure and desire that fed each other and became stronger with every drop of blood that was taken out of him.
Where he had been ravenous, Armand was conflictingly calm and desperate, feeding on him slowly but with long and voracious sips that pulled at the core of his being and made him simply surrender to it, giving all of himself in a communion that felt as monstrous as unbearably holy.
He didn’t know how much the whole process took, but at one point they were just lying on the bed together, him still cradling Armand in his arms, fingers playing with his hair as he rested with his head on his chest.
His body was warm now, and that warmness irradiated from him in such a pleasant way that made Lestat sigh softly with contempt.
He felt hungry and kinda weak, a sign that Armand had drank plenty from him, but he didn’t mind.
He just pulled him closer until he was almost lying completely on top of him, looking at him. His eyes were back to a more orangish color now, his skin more radiant and he looked way more alive than before.
Lestat caressed his face softly, kissing him once again and then once more just for the pleasure to feel the lingering taste of his blood on his lips.
They stayed silent for a while, just looking at each other, Lestat hands caressing every bit of him he could reach.
He impressed in his fingers the memories of the curves of his ears, the shape of his chin, the angles of his body and the softness of his skin. He let himself study the shape of his nose, the width of his back and the sharpness of his bones. He touched and touched again as if he was drawing him, as if he could hold onto every detail.
He watched too. He watched how his curls caressed his neck, how they fell on his forehead, how his eyelids fluttered at the touches he liked the most. He watched his lips part and close, his tongue wetting them, his eyes shining in the dim lights.
And then he kissed him, over and over again, on his cheeks and on his mouth, on his neck and on his forehead, making his lips trace a map of him as his fingers were doing.
Armand patiently allowed all of that, without protests or signs of annoyance.
He looked peaceful, so much so that when he moved again Lestat almost got startled.
“I should go.”
“Why?”
The answer came before he could really think about it and Armand just touched his face lightly with the point of his index, tracing a nonsensical path on it. It occurred to him that he had never done that in the entire night. Somehow, it felt like closure.
“Because the sun will rise in two hours or so and we both need to get back to our designated place of rest.”
It was reasonable, but Lestat still shook his head lightly.
“Come with me. I have more than one coffin. You could sleep there and then-”
“No.” Armand's voice was soft but it carried a resolution that told him his decision was not negotiable. “I have things to do.”
He got up and Lestat let him do so, looking at him intently.
“Will I see you again?”
Armand considered the question for a moment, then simply lowered his gaze.
“Maybe.”
“Will you not look for me?”
Lestat sat up on the bed as Armand approached the open window. He looked so different now, and yet still something in him suggested he didn’t belong in that century, in that world waiting for him just in the street below.
“I don’t know.”
It wasn’t said to hurt him, but it still caused a pang of pain in him to hear him say that out loud.
“Can I at least look for you?”
Armand considered that too for a moment, fingers lingering on the window’s frame.
“You may. But I can’t guarantee you will find me.”
Lestat nodded at that, sighing softly. Armand looked back at him, his face already carrying an unreadable mask of mystery that he just wanted to consume away with kisses.
"Farewell, Lestat de Lioncourt.”
Lestat waved a little, although he felt stupid doing so.
“Till the next time we see each other again, Armand.”
When he finished the sentence Armand was already gone, his lingering presence softly taken away bit by bit by the breeze coming from outside.
He got up and closed the window, sighing softly. It suddenly all felt like a dream.
As Lestat left too and slowly returned to the place Magnus left him, he thought about him and what just happened between them.
When he laid down in his coffin and let the lid close upon him, it were Armand’s eyes that he saw linger in the darkness. It was the throbbing of his pulse through the almost fully healed wound on his neck that lulled him to sleep, as he knew that their heartbeats were now just coinciding with one another and the same blood ran through both of them, even if for a limited amount of time.
For now, it was the most precious thing he had.