Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I'm made of plastic like a human doll

You push and pull me, I don't hurt at all

I talk in circles cuz my brain it aches 

You say I love you

I disintegrate

Perfect Celebrity, Lady Gaga

Got everyone watchin' us

So, baby, let's keep it secret

A little bit scandalous

But, baby, don't let them see it

A little less conversation and a little more touch my body

'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you

Into You, Ariana Grande

For the first time in a long time, Lestat could finally feel something. Past the many substances—which have now long subsided, no longer running through his mind and spirit and no longer buzzing in his very veins. Now he felt a different kind of buzzing, lower down his body. And he could feel that body being rhythmically pushed into the wall, forehead pressed against it as he’s shoved over and over.

His mouth opened wide in pleasure as he shut his eyes tight, that bubbly feeling warm in his gut and expanding with every thrust. The feeling he achingly missed for almost a century now.

Not to say he hasn’t fucked anyone in a century. God knows he has. Just not someone so dear to him. Not someone he shared a heart with.

He could hear Louis panting in his ear as he fucked him raw against the wall of his venue. Backstage of course, but still. The fact that he was due to perform in a few minutes was pressuring.

He knew this was reckless, especially with all the rumors that have been flying recently about him and his secret rich boyfriend. Lestat actually scoffed when he heard that.

Boyfriend.

No, he and Louis were not boyfriends, nor companions, nor lovers.

They were friends, perhaps. Friends who hung out, who fought, who confided in each other when something exciting or frightening happened.

Friends who fucked when they were feeling alone or when that dull roar of hunger for each other became a pounding they couldn’t avoid any longer.

Friends.

Lestat gasped as Louis hit that deep spot in him. Of course he knew where it was all along, he just wanted to take him by surprise. It reminded Lestat of their earlier days during their courtship and honeymoon. The impulse and the precision of their love making was transcending. They would spend hours at it and it would take them hours to finally stop and separate themselves from one another.

What they were doing now in his backstage room was so much like that era–so on-brand–it made Lestat yearn for the past. He foolishly wished it could stay like this forever.

Of course it couldn’t. He had to go on stage in two minutes now.

He could hear the chanting of his name, almost timed perfectly with Louis’ thrusts. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat.

A moan slipped out and he used it to drag out Louis’ name, who seemed to like it because he sped up, a soft moan escaping and triggering chills to run down Lestat’s spine.

His legs felt like jello. He could hardly keep himself standing. He had the urge to cancel the show, apologize to the fans tomorrow, and lead Louis to the brand new sofa his band bought for their show-related travels and let him fuck him deep into it for the rest of the night.

“Louis,” he gasped and shut his eyes again.

“Yeah, baby?” he replied out of breath and it only turned Lestat on even more. God this was going to kill him.

“Just ask for it,” he continued, speaking into Lestat’s ear and nipping it. “Whatever you want,”

“I want you to keep going,” he replied, almost whining. “Please don’t stop, chéri.” This time he definitely whined.

“I won’t,” he said. He suddenly pulled him off the wall and directed him to the dressing table next to them. Lestat quickly cleared it with a sweep of his hand, letting some makeup products clatter and fall to the floor. He bent over and gripped onto the ledge of the dresser as Louis continued pounding into him. 

“l’m not going anywhere,” he reassured him. He was rock hard now and Lestat’s hole clenched in response. He was desperate for release.

“You’re so tight for me,” Louis said in a low voice. Lestat tried nodding and moaned loudly. He wasn’t too worried of being overheard. His band was playing covers of classic rock songs to stall for more time.

Of course they didn’t know he was backstage getting his back blown out by one of the richest men in the city. And a vampire at that. They thought the whole vampire thing was a bit, part of the show. Oh, how they were wrong.

Lestat moaned again, gripping onto the dresser harder.

“Louis,” he whined, with no reason behind it besides the fact that he loved the way his name sounded. Louis. Louis. Louis. On his tongue, on the tongue of others. Beautiful and graceful. Just like Louis.

It sounded extra good when he moaned it.

“Are you close?” Louis asked against his ear, hands gripping his hair and lifting his head to get closer.

“So close,” he replied and this time they moaned in sync.

Adorable.

This wasn’t the first time they’d hooked up. Technically, the first time would be the night of their court date. A small meeting with only the two immortals and their respective lawyers.

Much respect to the lawyers for sitting with them as they yelled insults and accusations at each other for the better part of the trial, arguing over details of the Interview with the Vampire book. And once they sorted out the fact that Lestat couldn’t legally sue Louis for the book he recently assisted Daniel with writing, Lestat’s lawyer—Christine—suggested that Lestat should sue the actual author instead.

He agreed, but in that time, he had already decided to kick off his music career to fight the backlash he was getting from the biography and share his own story. Unknownst to him that Daniel was actually interested in making a documentary with Lestat, which he only found out after fifty or so missed calls and angry texts, but that’s another story.

It was what happened after this trial, or during it if we’re being picky, is what revived his and Louis’ relationship, however messy it was.

Their employees decided to give them a second to cool down and stepped out. It was obvious they actually wanted a break from the bitter pair. and none of them complained at their departure.

The alone time was actually beneficial to the immortals. Maybe because all the heated exchanges and arguments between them got them riled up and turned on.

Like, dialled all the way to the fucking max.

They wanted to put their hands on each other and not exactly in a hurtful way.

Long story short, they did put their hands on each other. Everywhere.

Tugging at each other's clothes and gnawing at their necks. One of them made the smart decision to lock the door with their mind sometime in between shoving their hot tongue into each other's mouths and their lip biting.

This had been the first time in almost a century where they touched each other in a sexual manner. In a dull office room with absolutely no color or decoration, just the table and a few chairs. Not the ideal aesthetic but when you’re hungry you’ll take anything you got. And they were fucking starving for it.

As if to make up for it, they continued their business after the trial at a hotel room down the street with beds and furniture built for royalty.

And they have been dealing in this sort of business ever since, whenever they get to see each other, agreeing that there was no immediate need to put a proper label on what they were doing.

Such as now, where Louis is digging himself deeper into Lestat, faster and more forcefully than a few minutes ago, groaning into his ear with his honey coated voice.

Lestat could feel himself clench so hard it almost hurt.

Time for the home stretch.

Louis sped up, using the last bit of energy he saved for this very important moment. He thrust deeper, pinning Lestat into the dresser as they grunted and sighed at the waves of pleasure that followed. 

Lestat could feel Louis hit his favourite spot over and over, the pleasure taking over his body as he felt his climax approaching violently.

They were soaking wet. Besides the sweat, the come was making a good substitute for lube and Louis was sliding in and out of him at an alarming pace now.

Louis thrust in deep one last time and it sent them both over the edge, moaning loudly as the ecstasy flooded their bodies. The pleasure was dragged out with lazy thrusts as their climax slowly died down.

Not soon after, the only remaining proof of their love making was the synchronized beating of their heart–which was still relatively fast–drumming through their bodies as they laid against each other, still panting.

Oh, and the leftover come. That was going to be difficult to clean.

Lestat kept his eyes closed, trying to drag out the bliss for as long as he could, trying to focus on the proximity of Louis, the way his hot lips planted soft kisses on the back of his neck.

For a moment, he felt at peace. Like there was nothing at all wrong with his life or with this new relationship he had with Louis–whatever it’s true nature may be.

And as if jinxing it, he felt Louis begin to withdraw. Typical. Lestat with his high hopes, always setting himself up for disappointment.

The feeling of Louis leaving his body filled him with unmeasurable sadness. He suddenly felt cold.

He watched him silently as he slipped on his dark brown pants and bent down to retrieve the fallen beauty products.

Lestat pulled up his own leather pants, grabbing a makeup wipe from the dresser and wiping away the bloody come still smeared on his ass.

He shuffled towards the mirror, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it appear more presentable for the audience, like he wasn’t just brutally fucked in the ten minutes since his band went out onto the stage.

He noticed his eyeliner was now smudged and slightly running down his face due to the tears that had formed from the pleasure.

He reached down for the product and tried to reapply it with a shaky hand. His senses were still jittery from the ecstasy and the tip of the liner kept shaking, forming an uneven line at his waterline.

Louis suddenly took it from him. He approached him, slightly peering up to examine the damage. With one hand he held Lestat’s face still while he used the other to steadily apply the product for him.

Their faces were practically pressed against each other again, noses brushing, Lestat staring in Louis’ deep green eyes while Louis stared at his lower eye lid in concentration, pretending he couldn’t notice Lestat watching him.

He’s gorgeous, Lestat thought unprompted.

He carefully pressed forward, his lips brushing against Louis’. He closed his eyes and smiled when the other vampire kissed him back, humming at the contact. He felt Louis’ hands slid up his arm and clutched his hair, causing goosebumps to form across his skin.

“I just brushed that out, mon cher,” he complained, pulling back for a second before being pulled back in.

“I’ll fix it for you in a second,” Louis mumbled and then moaned softly into the kiss.

Once again, Lestat foolishly wished that they could stay like this forever. That Louis would stay with him forever, in his arms, in his life.

And what exactly was his life now?

It was a mess. Too messy for Louis, who seemed to enjoy the quiet life. It became clear to Lestat when he read his book.

A quiet life with the quiet yet calculating Armand, he thought bitterly.

“Lestat! You were supposed to be on five minutes ago!” his manager yelled from the door that led to the stage. “We’re fucking dangling here, man. Let’s get moving!”

They pulled back from each other and Lestat sighed, his hands coming up to cup Louis’ 

pretty little face.

Louis reached up and used his thumb to brush off the remaining smeared eyeliner, then ran his fingers through Lestat’s tangled hair before finally pulling away when satisfied.

“All set, Monsieur le Rockstar,” he said with the intent of making a joke but it came off more sour if anything.

Lestat could hear it in his tone, could see the way his entire demeanour shifted just as he was about to step out onto the stage. Louis was not only withdrawing physically but also emotionally.

He’s known Louis wasn’t exactly a fan of the whole music career thing. But regardless, he’s shown up for a few shows. And they happened to hook up after each of those shows but Lestat tried his best convincing himself that there’s a bigger reason Louis keeps gravitating towards him.

Maybe not so deep down, Louis is actually supportive of Lestat's choices, no matter how bold.

It should be no surprise that they fought over his music countless times. Louis would argue that it’s reckless and threatened their independence, while Lestat argued that his stupid book was no different. These fights either end up with them not speaking to each other for the next week or sleeping together.

Recently, it’s been the latter.

It only strengthens that voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that this is what always happens. That people simply get near him for their own personal gain and then leave him behind—battered and bruised—when their needs are met.

He knows Louis doesn’t mean to. He knows that he’s nothing like the others who have done the same countless times. His mother, his maker, the companions that followed but never stayed.

Louis was different. Louis cared, even if he had a strange way of showing it. Maybe he even loved…

Lestat shook the silly thought out of his head before it could get the better of him.

Deep down, he knew he had never been truly loved by anyone and maybe never will be.

That it was merely a word they overused. A word Louis had never uttered in the many years they lived together. And maybe that was a good thing. For it would only make Louis seem like the others, right?

And Louis was different. Louis made him feel safe and warm and seen and so ridiculously in love to the point where it scared him.

The sheer volume of these feelings, no matter how hard things got with them, scared the shit out of him.

And he believed all those feelings were enough to numb the pain he’s been carrying his entire life. Maybe these feelings could make up for the lack of genuine love he’s felt his entire life. Could make up for Louis never speaking about love with him.

And yet he watched Louis grab his coat and walk towards the exit, leaving Lestat’s shattering heart behind to mend on its own.

He heard his manager call out for him again, snapping him back to reality. Right, he had a performance to attend to.

He sighed and forced his eyes away from the door Louis had walked out of. He began walking towards the short staircase leading to the stage, his hole still aching from the friction and roughness of the sex. 

The chanting grew louder and louder as he reached the top of the stairs.

Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat.

He stepped out and the crowd began a fresh round of passionate cheering. He soaked up the adoration, gliding towards the center of the stage and reaching for his microphone while barring his fangs. He fell right into his performative role, burying any personal emotions that might threaten his performance.

“Toronto, let me hear you scream!” he yelled his iconic line which he used at the start of every show, the city name changing accordingly. The crowd grew louder, thunderous and hungry for the rockstar Lestat.

He laughed and threw his head back. His drummer began playing furiously, the beats leading up to the intro of his hit song, Long Face. The guitarist started plucking away at the first few chords, and Lestat began singing, the crowd joining in.

Ooh ooh, ahh ahh ahh.

Ooh ooh, ahh ahh ahh.

“Why the long face?” he sang, pointing the microphone to the crowd so they could finish the lyrics. He felt the energy and passion when they screamed back ‘my pretty baby’, his eyes darting up to the VIP seat always reserved for Louis.

His heart broke when he realized it was empty. He wiped away any expression of disappointment from his face, trying to regain his focus on the crowd.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the audacity of it all. Louis showed up long enough to get himself off, then left him high and dry. Ungrateful for the gifts Lestat was giving him, the acts of kindness, trying to mend their relationship bit by bit all alone it seemed.

Hoping they could go back to the way it had been when they first laid eyes upon each other all those nights ago back in New Orleans. Young and desperately in love.

Lestat felt his eyes suddenly well up and began tossing his hair, stalling for enough time to force the tears away. 

He continued singing his songs, the crowd joining him and butchering the notes entirely.

It was annoying.

He could devour them all in a heartbeat.

But still, they came to see him, to support him, and so he loved them.

I know a certain someone who can’t exactly say the same, he thought bitterly as he glanced back up at Louis’ empty seat.

He couldn’t worry too much about it. He was angry at Louis, maybe even hated him. But Lestat had a job to do tonight. His anger towards Louis would have to wait.

Besides his immediate heartbreak, the show was actually going wonderfully. His vocals were on point and the band hadn’t missed a single note. The humidity was making him sweat, but it only made the glitter on his body stand out so he couldn’t complain.

The only issue was his choreography.

He was mainly a freestyle artist, meaning he would stand on stage and do something completely original every night to keep things interesting.

But just as his iconic opening line, he also has iconic moves, such as falling to his knees at certain points and grinding against the microphone…etcetera etcetera.

Things his fans adored.

But tonight, he couldn’t really move. Like, at all. His hole was still on fire and sore. It was angering and almost embarrassing because it was a painful reminder of the person who was responsible for it.

The same person who couldn’t be bothered to stick around for the actual show.

Lestat tried looking on the bright side. For example, how Louis wasn’t here to watch Lestat stand on stage awkwardly as his hole ached from the physique of his magnificent cock. How he ached for the ghost of it, regardless of his anger, for their hate sex had always been some of the best.

His fans weren’t exactly a fan of the way he was just standing on stage. They hated it, which was very clear. Disappointment seared onto their faces.

A whole lot of them paid good money to see him perform the way they had seen online, grinding and semi-nude. They only got half the package.

In full honesty, Letat couldn’t care less. He was pissed off now and only hunting could seem to numb the pain.

He lazily read the minds of his fans, searching for the weakest and easiest to pluck without attracting too much attention. One who travelled to his show alone.

He used yet another bit to cover up the fact that he was actually picking out for his dinner. To the audience, his selection of a lucky fan was his way of making his shows more interactive and entertaining.

Lestat finished his fifth song and pretended to search in the crowd for this “lucky” fan. These mortals believed that being chosen was an honor, that they got to have a one-on-one meeting with the rockstar himself backstage.

Which wasn’t exactly a lie, but not the complete truth either.

“You with the white bow,” he called out at last, pointing at the girl in the crowd. She wore a shirt that said BITE ME in dark red letters and had her dark wavy hair pulled back with a white bow, almost similar to the ones Lestat himself famously favoured.

She yelled in excitement and disbelief as his security team got closer to her.

“Congrats, chérie. I’ll see you backstage.” Lestat said mockingly, although no one in the crowd seemed to notice due to the mixture of excitement and jealousy that was brewing.

~ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ~

The show ended about ten minutes later. He exited the stage quickly, not bothering to perform his encore, no matter how hard they begged.

He was irritated, sweaty, starving and could feel the many familiar emotions that always erupted during his show flowing through his body.

The pain of his past crept up on him, threatening him into a chokehold as the tears formed on stage. 

He hated it when he cried on stage. The fans showed him affection but it only seemed like mockery.

Oh poor Lestat. All the things he’s endured. Watching his companions constantly battle between love and disinterest towards him. Forcefully given the gift of eternal life only to feel so incredibly dead. All those years roaming the world for meaning and connection to end up utterly alone. 

Of course they believe the vampire Lestat is merely a fictional character he as an artist created to project his own identity onto.

How he wished that were true.

He was sick of these feelings that plagued him for years now, illustrated more vibrantly than ever before thanks to his musical talents.

Well done, Lestat, he mocked himself while forcing back his tears for the hundredth time that night.

He stormed backstage in his heels, which clicked furiously as he descended down the stairs to where the fan from earlier eagerly sat and waited for him with excitement.

She shrieked when she saw him, hand flying to cover her mouth in sheer shock and disbelief.

“You have a pretty scream,” he teased as got closer, watching how her hand shook. He grabbed it and started rubbing it soothingly.

“Has no one offered you any delights?” he asked softly, watching her hungrily as she shook her head to say no.

He dropped her hand and walked over to the pantry his band stored their drinks in. At the very back they stored their many varieties of fun powders.

“Which is your favourite, ma chérie?” he asked, glancing back at his victim.

“I’ve only ever done weed,” she confessed and he laughed.

“Well, how about we try something new tonight?” he said and picked up a package that contained a thick white powder.

He walked back towards her, showing her the bag and then dumping the contents onto the table before them.

She pulled out a card from her pocket, her picture pasted on it made it clear it was some sort of identification card, maybe a driver’s license.

She began working on the powder, arranging it in a line and then reaching for the short straws in the bag and taking a quick whiff. She shot back, taken off guard by the strength of the substance.

“How is it?” Lestat asked softly, wrapping his fingers with strands of her hair as he watched.

“Strong,” she said and laughed, eyes growing wide from the effect of the drug.

“Hmm, I bet,” he said and laughed softly, watching as she dipped her head down for another line.

The hunt was on.

“How rude of me to not even ask for your name. I got carried away. My apologies, chérie,” he said and smiled.

She blinked at him in confusion. She seemed to have forgotten where she was and who she was with.

“It’s totally fine. I mean, I can’t believe I’m sitting next to the rockstar Lestat and doing drugs with him,” she replied, the excitement of their proximity returning to her for a brief moment. “No one’s going to believe this. Is this even legal?”

“And who would you tell?” he asked with pity.

She looked up and frowned in confusion.

“You came here alone, didn’t you?” he asked. “Asked your friends to join you—begged them—but what did they say?” he continued mournfully, allowing himself to delve into her memories.

“Said you weren’t worth it,” she answered, tone laced with frustration.

Lestat hummed as she sniffed more cocaine. 

“What do you think?” he questioned with no real interest. Instead, he let his eyes settle on her neck, watching the way the blood was rushing through her veins. He could almost taste the way it was laced with cocaine now.

“I thought you were fucking great,” she replied with awe.

“Really?” he pushed, voice almost mocking. A stupid question. He knew he was great. 

“Yeah. I loved the music and the visuals…” she began to explain with so much emotion and energy that Lestat almost felt bad about the fate he had planned for her.

Almost.

Because as the list went on and on he began to feel as though everything he had created for his performance was going over the heads of these mortals.

That they could never actually comprehend the sheer magnitude of everything he shared with the world and all that it meant to him.

He laid himself bare every night for them to merely fawn over the image of him.

It was repulsing.

“I loved the band and I really love—” she continued and he cut her off.

“Me?” he finished mockingly with frustration. “I hear that plenty. More times than you will ever hear in your little mortal lifetime,” he spat bitterly. 

He pulled her head back without much effort since she was already high and weak. The large amount of drugs running through her bloodstream was enough to kill anyone who was built more frail. His nail traced down the length of her throat and exposed a delicate trail of blood.

He could smell the drugs in it, the way it buzzed and beckoned to him. He felt his fangs drop.

“I forgive you for loving me,” he said as he licked the blood off his finger. He could feel the tingling in his mouth as the taste of the drugged blood set in. It sent shivers through his body.

“You are so much like myself. Foolishly convincing yourself that you’re not truly alone…” he continued, running his finger down her throat and taking another taste of her blood.

“You have friends, but where are they when it really matters? Not here…not with you…Because deep down you know you’re alone in this world. Just like me…”

And with that he let his fangs sink into her throat, slipping into the cut he had already made with his nail and began drinking.

The warm blood rushed into his mouth, sweeter than usual due to the substances she stuffed herself with. He drank greedily, trying to savour it but failing as his emotions took hold of him again. The anger and sadness of being so misunderstood.

He dug deeper, the blood flowing dangerously fast. He could feel the drugs flushing through his body, into his mind and blurring his senses.

It was perfectly intoxicating. 

He could no longer feel the pain, for it was now dulled and replaced with a roaring noise that made his surroundings vibrate with life.

A bubbly laugh escaped his lips as he let go of the girl. Her limp body flopped onto the couch with a cushioned thud.

Dead.

Lestat was busy trying to regulate his breathing, forcing his giddy laughter away. He eased himself to the floor, and let his eyes dart across the room as it tipped side to side. The colors of the wallpaper merged with the soft lights of the room, giving a similar effect of a kaleidoscope.

He sighed and fell onto his back, allowing the drugs to flow through him and take him far away from the ache in his heart.

~ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ~

Lestat forced himself up onto his feet a half hour later. Lest someone came looking for him and stumbled upon him laying high and giddy next to a decaying corpse.

That would look really bad.

He stumbled towards the cupboard and grabbed a black garbage bag. He lazily peeled the ends apart, waving it aggressively in the air to allow the bag to completely open. Lestat then stalked towards the corpse and rolled it into the bag, tying a knot and slinging the whole thing in his shoulder.

He exited his venue now, off to dispose of the body somewhere it wouldn't immediately be found.

Recently, he enjoyed mutilating his victims and then tossing the bloody remains in a lake. He was tired tonight, unable to find the proper tools—not that he needed them—in order to disfigure the body.

So he set off for a lakeside beach not too far away from the expensive hotel he and his band were staying at during their visit. 

Lestat sighed as he sped down the streets of Toronto in a blur, carrying the limp body of the young woman he still hadn’t caught the name of. He quickly reached the dark beach and stepped onto a boulder that was hovering over the roaring waves. He stretched out his arms and let go of the package.

He watched the corpse plummet into the dark waves, the massive splash that erupted from the contact, and the sight of the bag disappearing into the water.

He hummed as he turned around and made his way back down the road and to his hotel room.

Lestat tried to enjoy the scenery, to take in the fresh air of the night. For once, his mind didn’t wander. It was easier to forget about the things that haunted him when he could still feel the effects of the drugs he stuffed himself with. He watched the branches sway with life, the clouds gliding from the cold breeze, the street lights buzzing with electricity.

Soon enough, he reached his hotel and ascended to his floor. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit him physically as he practically dragged himself to the bathroom where he filled the bathtub with warm water, peeled off his clothing and sank into the tub.

His mind was still fuzzy but he could feel his body stiffen and ache from the eventful evening. He dipped his hands in the water, using his fingers to help wash off the dried up blood from underneath his nails. 

Lestat tried not to think of the show and his disappointed fans, or the way he let his victim drug herself to the point of death, or the way Louis had looked at him with cold distance just before he disappeared into the night.

Louis.

Louis. Louis. Louis.

He suddenly felt a warm, thick liquid running down his cheek and quickly realized he was crying again.

He scoffed and dunked his head underneath the surface of the lukewarm water, as if it could fend off the image of his beloved that was forming vividly in his mind.

Lestat tried not to care for it, but he could feel the ghost of Louis touching him and kissing him, whispering sweet nothings against his ear. The memory latched onto the strings of his heart and tugged on them.

He could vividly remember the way Louis quietly slipped out of his room.

The memory violently snatched those strings and he could feel his heart shatter.

He surfaced and rubbed his face, trying to focus on the sensation of the water running through his hair instead of the painful sensation in his aching chest.

Lestat shuddered and reached for a towel. Water trickled down rapidly as he stood up and slowly began patting himself dry.

He put on his favourite pajamas—soft and weighted, almost like a makeshift hug—and fell onto his thick bed with a loud sigh of exhaustion.

He rolled over and reached for the nightstand, retrieving his phone and began scrolling through social media for updates on his progress in show business and all the new things people were angry at him for tonight.

He continued scrolling and stumbled on the more recent posts about his performance that night. As expected, people were mainly focused on his lack of physical energy and the fact that he completely skipped over his usual dance routine.

Lestat rolled his eyes and fought the urge to reply with some mean words and maybe a threat or two. He remembered how he was explicitly advised by his lawyer to no longer run his own account because of his inappropriate behaviour towards his fans.

They had originally sent him through PR training but it hadn’t exactly worked and so they banned him completely off any and all social platforms.

But Lestat was never good at doing what he was told and was now currently scrolling through Twitter on his main account, practicing restraint.

This usually helped him get riled up at people he could acceptably eat whenever he pleased. It was where he directed his anger towards, instead of the many things that usually caused that anger.

Unfortunately he had been scrolling for an hour now and stumbled upon the side of his fandom that included themselves in his sexual life.

Fans who were a little too good at putting pieces together and painting a very creative and vivid image of his complicated life.

The post he was looking at now was one regarding his and Louis’ “not so secret relationship”.

Photos snapped by paparazzi displaying the rockstar Lestat spending more and more time with multibillionaire Louis De Pointe Du Lac.

Pictures of their stolen moments.

Their faces ducked close to each other in discretion and intrigue, a soft smile on their faces as they stroll down the streets wearing nothing but a black jumper and some sweats in an attempt to blend in with the crowds.

That specific picture was from a few nights ago. Lestat had been rehearsing in his studio long into the night, forgetting to eat. His rehearsal was cut short when he suddenly sensed his beloved nearby, immediately darting out his room and seeking him out, for they hadn’t seen each other in months at that point.

He practiced restraint that night, watching Louis move swiftly in the night, his smile tugging his beautiful face at something Lestat had said, his soft voice pulling him into a deep trance. Lestat had felt like he was floating. Louis laughed suddenly, the giddy sound bubbling something inside Lestat’s chest, making it ache for contact.

He almost snapped. He had sensed the presence of nosey fans looming behind them, desperate to steal some photos, and yet Lestat was seconds away from shoving Louis into the nearest tree and kissing him until his face hurt.

He had missed him too much and yearned for some familiarity in his life.

He yearned for Louis in his life.

Lestat sighed now, and kept scrolling through the stan account, staring at more photos of him and Louis. 

He looked at one where they were both well dressed, compared to their sweats in the previous post. Here, they were completely in glam for an event Lestat couldn’t remember the name of.

He was wearing a cream suit with a red bejeweled necklace, paired with dark red heels. He had tried on lash extensions for the first time that night and actually enjoyed them a lot.

Louis had shown up dressed in the most lavish and dark green, with a pair of glasses framing his confident gaze. He had his hair braided and wore a ridiculous amount of rings on his fingers, which were annoyingly distracting.

Although Lestat still couldn't seem to recall the particulars of the event, he remembered that night vividly. He remembered telling Louis to ditch his glasses for the world would miss out on his addictive eyes.

He’s still unsure why he had said that. They weren’t exactly on super friendly terms and they were definitely not on flirting terms.

And yet he watched the blood rush to Louis’ ears, heard him mumble something about Lestat needing to keep his mouth shut.

Lestat had bit his tongue, metaphorically. Physically, he bit his lip so hard he drew blood.

He had then watched Louis fight his fangs from extending, with a strange feeling of satisfaction as he walked away from him, still blushing.

They ignored each other the entire night.

Darting glances at one another but never interacting or joining a conversation where the other was already present. Eventually, they found themselves in the bathroom at the same time, and decided to release some of the steam they had been containing since their little argument.

Lestat had shoved Louis against the stall and kissed him hard, giving him a taste of the blood he so desperately craved earlier that evening. Louis sucked and Lestat moaned with his mouth wide open, giving Louis better access to his tongue which he quickly bit.

Things had escalated quickly, just as usual, and he had led Louis to the sink and bent him over, yanking down his expensive pants. He quickly reached for the tap and scooped some water to lubricate his cock before thrusting into Louis with no preparation.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it?” he grunted into his ear as he fucked him. “Tempting me all night with those bedroom eyes—”

“I thought you couldn’t see my eyes” Louis shot back. Lestat chuckled and began pounding faster, making Louis drag out a moan.

He glanced up into the mirror, marveling at the beautiful expressions of pleasure on Louis’ face. They locked eyes suddenly, and he felt his body flush.

He didn’t stop.

He kept thrusting, going slower now and using his hand to spread Louis’ cheeks for a better and deeper aim.

Louis groaned and shut his eyes at the pleasure.

“Eyes up, mon cher,” he taunted in his ear, nibbling on the lobe and making Louis gasp.

They caught each other's gaze again, watching the movement of Lestat slamming into him over and over as Louis arched his back in desperation and desire.

They had both moaned at the extraordinary sight.

Unfortunately for them, they hadn’t realized how loud they had been for the thirty or so minutes it took to get each other off.

A few guests who had been lurking overheard their voices.

Crazed fans caught wind of the rumors from that event as well. It spread online and soon it was all anyone could talk about for the next few weeks.

The two immortals spent the next few months apart. 

It had almost killed Lestat.

He could vividly remember the crash he had been experiencing during that period of time. The drugs, the documentary, Daniel’s skillful tactic to get Lestat to remember every little detail of his life, the memories bubbling back to torture him, his spiralling and longing for the one person who might have actually been able to ground him.

Lestat now sighed at the photo of him and his immortal beloved, laying face down in bed and clutching a pillow to his chest. 

He ached for Louis and he hated him for leaving tonight all the same.

Lestat sighed again, shutting his eyes and rolling his hips slowly. He knew this wouldn’t solve anything, that in a few minutes his sheets would be soiled with come, and he would be left panting at the ghost of Louis who would still be out somewhere else in the city.

Still, he didn’t stop. Lestat kept moving his hips, searching for more photos of his beautiful companion to assist his fantasies. Louis laying under him, kissing him, saying that he loved him and would never leave him again.

He rolled and rolled, grinding his groin against the pillow he had been clutching earlier. He gasped as he felt his short climax approaching, shivering as it came crashing down.

He fell face down onto the bed and sobbed into the sheets for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

You know that I love you

Is it dumb believing you might love me too?

Yeah

This Song, Conan Gray

Since the time we took a break

Everybody knows you don't love me the same

So cruel to be lying to my face

'Cause I know what you're too scared to say, oh

Speak up, I know you hate me

Looked at your picture and cried like a baby

Speak up, don't leave me waiting

Got way too drunk off a vodka cranberry

Vodka Cranberry, Conan Gray

It had been two full weeks since Lestat had seen or even heard from Louis.

He stood backstage now, scrolling through his phone as the crowd cheered for an encore that would never come. He stared at the last thread of messages between him and Louis.

dress code is settled. we’re doing period piece 

Poor taste.

Is that your doing?

doors open @ 8pm

Désole

You have impeccable taste

👅

Lestat.

I mean to say you taste really good

LESTAT.

Désole

Again

Do you hate me?

?

no

I feel that you do

i don’t

Are you sure?

yes?

I have a question

shoot

Why is touching okay but dirty talk makes you squeamish?

it doesn’t

and i thought we agreed everything we do is chill

Doesn’t seem like it

You don’t like when I say lude things

Is it because you’re afraid you might actually want me?

we’re not discussing this over text

i’m trying to keep things chill lestat

Yes because we’re so chill aren't we?

i’ll see u in a few weeks

Putain de merde

I will not be attending

The conversation had been tense. It was awkward actually talking to each other, Lestat had realized. And over text it was difficult to read between the lines and determine the mood of the conversation. 

Unfortunately, that resulted in him spiraling and assuming that Louis was mad at him, which seemed to be the case now.

Lestat had stared at the thumbs up reaction Louis had used to reply to his last message. The image pierced into his mind, claiming a permanent residency in his consciousness.

He had cried for a week over it.

He spent the next week killing anyone in his sight, draining them out of pure rage and confusion, all directed towards Louis.

He sighed now, clicking out of the old thread of texts and walked downstairs. He flopped onto the sofa, sighing from exhaustion as he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling for a while as the post-performance crash began.

He was startled for a moment when he saw Daniel looming over him.

“How did you get in here?” he asked. He should've been more pissed but he didn't have the energy.

“You gave me access last time we were on cloud nine together,” the vampire explained, looking down at him with judgement.

Lestat hated it. This bastard fledgeling silently pitying him. At least, he thought it was pity. Actually, he wasn't sure if Daniel could feel pity.

“Leave me be,” Lestat groaned, shutting his eyes.

“You look like shit,” Daniel mused. “And I mean shittier than usual.”

“Why are you bothering me?” he asked with a sigh.

“You haven't been showing up to our meetings lately,” Daniel responded and Lestat scoffed at the statement.

It sounded like he was taking therapy sessions with him instead of recording a documentary.

The sad part is that that’s exactly what it felt like as of late. Which is why he stopped attending.

Lestat found it difficult to go to set and talk about the many things from his past that resurfaced and began haunting him, laying it out for this stranger and for all the world to hear about in time.

It was torture and Lestat desperately needed a little less of that in his life.

“I’ve been busy,” he lied instead.

“Yeah, that’s totally believable,” the other vampire scoffed and began examining the dressing room. “Sitting around in this disgusting place pondering your existence. Super busy.”

“Why don’t you annoy someone else?” Lestat asked as Daniel rummaged around through the many clothing pieces hanging in the wardrobe pressed against the back of the room.

“You’re the only one easy enough to find so…” he explained passively, pulling out a leather jacket and holding it against his chest. He glanced in the mirror pinned to the wall next to the wardrobe and looked back at Lestat.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“That’s mine,” the older immortal remarked, one eyelid half open to look up at Daniel.

“Yeah, but can I borrow it? I’m gonna need something for the event tonight,” he explained as he shifted back to the wardrobe and began looking at the pairs of fancy shoes lined up at the bottom.

“Haven’t you heard?” Lestat said as he suppressed a bitter laugh. “The theme is period piece. You’re going to stand out wearing something like that,” he said with a teasing grin.

“Maybe that’s the goal,” he heard Daniel mutter and laughed outright, sitting up now with intrigue.

He tossed one leg over the other and placed an arm on the back of the couch, resting his chin on his fisted hand as he gazed teasingly at the fledgling.

“Ohh, I see what you’re trying to do,” he said with another laugh and watched as Daniel stiffened.

“Searching for your maker, are you?” he asked.

Daniel didn’t respond.

“Don’t expect to see him tonight. He has no reason to be present at such a big event. It’s far too above him.” Lestat explained, spewing hurtful comments about Armand as if he were present to hear them.

Daniel shrugged now, lost in thought as he busied his hands with more clothes.

“Unless you believe Armand is actually looking for you,” he pressed, enjoying the way the vampire was squirming under his taunts. He knew he was being a little harsh, but he’s been hurting for the past few weeks and needed to put it somewhere.

“I didn’t say that,” Daniel shot back.

“But you thought it, non?” he pressed.

“Stay out of my head.” Daniel suddenly threatened, voice tense. Lestat found it quite silly.

“It’s too much fun I’m afraid,” he said with a shrug.

“How’s Louis doing?” Daniel suddenly asked teasingly, smirking when Lestat’s smile dropped at lightning speed. “Is he still coming around to fuck around? Does he still ditch you after or…”

“Enough,” Lestat warned but the other vampire kept pushing.

“No, this is good stuff, remember? Talking through emotions helps get the truth out. So…have you even talked to Louis recently because something’s telling me–” he continued and Lestat hissed at him, which only made him laugh.

“Oh, guess I hit the nail right on the head,” he remarked and Lestat almost pounced on him.

If they had actually gotten into a little brawl, it would last about five seconds before he plucked Dnaiel’s head right off his shoulders.

But he knew what kind of attention that would bring from a certain immortal and refrained from sporting the idea in general, as tempting as it was.

He took a deep breath, trying to regulate his emotions and ignoring every hurtful that had just been said to him.

It was his fault for provoking it. If anything it was refreshing to see an immortal face he somewhat knew.

“My apologies,” he said softly, shocking the other immortal.

“I didn’t actually mean any of that. I've just been feeling off. And I’ve been avoiding you because I’m trying to avoid the feelings that arise when we are working together,” he explained honestly, shocking himself now.

“Gosh, I didn’t think my presence was that overwhelming. Sorry for being so damn attractive,” he joked, trying to remain calm but his demeanour showcased nervousness. Lestat rolled his eyes, but he was glad he wasn’t still mad at him.

“You’re quite hilarious,” he commented, watching the vampire blush. Lord, this was embarrassing for him to witness.

“It’s a shame Armand spends so much time away from you,” he continued. “He’s missing out, don’t you think?”

“Stop teasing, Lioncourt,” Daniel said as he gathered the leather jacket and a pair of black platform boots.

“Leaving so soon?” he continued teasing with a grin.

“I suggest you get washed up before the party,” Daniel said as he walked towards the door.

Lestat considered it, not the washing up but the event. Pinned in front of flashing lights, mindless chatter, more interviews, questions about his music, telepathic threats from other vampires regarding his music.

Having to face Louis, he suddenly recalled. Yeah, he was not ready to have another conversation face to face after their bitter interaction through text.

“Wait,” he called out quickly, just before the vampire reached the exit.

He turned around and raised a questioning brow.

“Want to get high?” he asked suddenly and watched Daniel retreat back into the room with a confirming grin, matching Lestat’s own.

~ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ~

A few hours later Lestat could barely walk straight, which was a problem.

He carefully stepped onto the red carpet, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other but the photographers wouldn’t stop yelling at him to stop moving and pose for their obnoxious cameras.

“Mr. Lioncourt, over here!” they yelled as their flashes blinded him.

He shut his eyes against the sudden light. He could hear some of them whisper curses at him for ruining their shot by blinking.

He had the urge to pounce on them but refrained himself, remembering where he was.

He took a deep breath, trying to get a grip of his body and mind. He accepted the pair of shades his valet offered and got to work. 

Lestat tucked a stray strand of his hair, triggering another round of flashes.

Too easy, he thought with a smug smile.

He then put his hands on his hips, a strategic move but also a favourite of his. It emphasised the way his expensive pink corset snatched his waist and people adored it.

He heard some personal questions being tossed at him—Who is your latest hit about? Is it true you’re dating someone who’s in attendance tonight? How come you never attend events in the daytime?—but he simply dodged them all with a charming smile, pretending he couldn’t hear them over the chatter of the other influencers and celebrities walking down the carpet.

He suddenly caught a whiff of a familiar scent, which was surprising since his senses had been fried for hours now due to all the drugs he had stuffed himself with.

He and Daniel drained victim after victim. The bodies piled up and it was impossible to get rid of them without it seeming suspicious.

High as they were, one of them suggested the idea of tossing them in a building and setting it on fire so that the corpses would be too burnt up for proper forensic examination.

Brilliant idea. It must’ve been Lestat’s.

But yet, past the clogging of the drugs, he could smell something. Sweet, hot and tempting.

He felt his fangs drop and tried forcing them back with no luck.

“That’s some badass accessories,” he heard a photographer comment.

“Naturally,” he said and kept walking down the carpet towards the entrance. His sense of direction, however, was still disrupted by the substances coursing through his body so he was walking all over the place.

The smell grew stronger with every wobbly step.

Lestat could feel his heart pounding. He hated the way his body fluttered in anticipation, despite the way he had been feeling the last few weeks.

His breath hitched when he saw Louis turn the corner.

The vampire was exiting the hall, which emitted the sound of countless conversations, and began walking down the carpet in the opposite direction of the celebrities, directly towards Lestat.

He was dressed in a rich and dark red, which would’ve made his jade eyes stand out if the thin glasses hadn’t gotten in the way.

And if that wasn’t distracting enough, Lestat caught sight of the earrings decorating his ears—some thick and shiny while others were simply thin, golden chains delicately hanging against his ears.

He was painfully beautiful.

“Thought you said you weren’t coming,” Louis recalled as he gave him a hug for the desperate photographers.

As if on cue, a fresh wave of white lights erupted and blinded Lestat once again. He watched many different colors form shapes and swim in his vision.

“I changed my mind,” Lestat said with a smile, unable to contain it when he was face to face with Louis. “I wanted to show my support, mon cher,” he explained and Louis smiled.

“Really?” he asked, surprised that he was being so direct.

“Of course. Why would you doubt me?” Lestat asked with a little laugh.

Louis stood before him, close enough to see the faint freckles on his cheeks but still not close enough for Lestat.

Not only did he look beautiful, but he looked healthier, as if he had been eating properly for the first time since they had been separated almost a century ago, back when he struggled to even hold up his books.

He also seemed confident, standing here at his own event, in control and respected. Judging by his position in society and with the other immortals, he was intimidating and powerful. No one dared to challenge him.

Lestat couldn’t be more proud.

He found himself forgiving the way Louis had made him feel the last few weeks, the bitter texts, not attending his shows. Lestat couldn’t care about it right now, for he was completely enthralled with this moment.

They were here now and perhaps things could be different.

It didn’t help that there was something magnetic about him, a pull of pure worship that Lestat could never ignore no matter how hard he tried, not that he wanted to.

Lestat looked at Louis now—soft and beautiful—with so much adoration that he couldn’t keep the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“You know that I love you Louis,” he blurted, eyes soaking up his beauty, slowly lowering to glance at his lips.

He could feel Louis stiffen, and he could hear how his heart sped up. Lestat convinced himself it was because he was nervous, maybe even passionately in love with him too.

It was silly but Lestat couldn’t exactly think straight in his current state so he allowed himself to think such things.

He allowed himself to make mistakes tonight, for all will be forgiven.

He could blame the drugs if he says something wrong. And if Louis declares his love for him right here in front of a few dozen mortals then that’ll be fine too. He just wants to hear the beautiful words tumble out from his beautiful lips.

“Les,” Louis said softly instead, his apologetic tone making Lestat’s heart plummet with disappointment.

Louis pulled him into another hug. A real one this time meant for only Lestat and not the crowd around them.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered into his hair and Lestat forced back the tears that had been forming.

“Désole, mon cher,” he choked and Louis pulled back, a worried expression on his face as he noticed Lestat was desperately trying not to cry.

He brushed his face with his thumb, trying to soothe him.

“Why are you apologizing, baby?” he asked softly.

“I’ve been making things weird, non?” he admitted and sniffed.

“Not at all,” Louis reassured, though Lestat had a feeling it was a lie. The vampire had spent so much time away from him, only dropped in when he needed something, and not to mention their angry texts.

But maybe Louis had a right to be distant. Lestat was eager to have a life together, too eager and too fast for Louis’ pace.

It doesn’t change the fact that he still desperately needed to hear some sort of reassurance that Louis would return to him in his own time.

Even if it took another century, Lestat would wait with that ache in his heart until Louis finally returned.

Until he finally loved him.

Looking at his immortal beloved now—the way his hands caressed his face, his soft eyes peered into his damned soul, radiating comfort—Lestat knew he was capable of that love.

He just had to say it. He just had to let his beautiful lips form the words, and let his hammering heart act as proof that it was true.

Lestat focused on that hammering now, allowing his own heart to ease into that rhythm, until they were breathing as one.

He so desperately wanted to lean in and kiss him. Platonically for Louis, for he could never deny him anything.

He glanced at the photographers and sneered at them, realizing how engrossed they were with their little public display.

He looped his arm in Louis’ and they began walking towards the entrance.

Platonically. He wasn’t Louis’ date. And Lestat wasn’t his either.

He caught a glimpse of another vampire just as he got to the entrance, one carrying a microphone for interviews and yelling at a cameraman.

That jacket looks better on me, Lestat said telepathically, smirking when Daniel caught his eye.

Aww looks like you found yourself a date, the vampire teased and Lestat felt his face flush.

Fuck off, he shot back.

Remember to keep things PG. Wouldn’t want a repeat of last time. Fucking in a public bathroom, good lord. But it did make good news, so if you guys start something, make sure to call me first, he said and Lestat scoffed, getting a sideways glance from Louis.

The audacity, he replied as they strolled towards the drinks.

I'm serious. These people paid good money for me to get juicy intel tonight. Maybe because I'm just so good at my job, Daniel continued and Lestat had to hold back his laugh.

Just pass the drama over to me, the vampire finished and went back to ordering the cameraman to find a fresh battery.

“Was that Daniel?” Louis asked as he picked up a drink, no real intention of consuming it.

“Yes,” Lestat replied with a sigh of annoyance.

“How’s he treating you?” he asked, dipping a finger in his drink and putting it in his mouth to taste.

Lestat felt his mind short circuit as he watched him suck on his finger.

“Hmm?” Louis asked, waiting for an answer with an awkward smile.

Lestat looked up, quickly recalling that he was asked a question.

“Oh. He’s a cunt most nights,” he explained and forced his eyes away from his mouth, lest he let his lust get the better of him.

The room was buzzing with chatter and piercing music that made the floors vibrate. There was a system of colorful lights that were going off in the section they were standing in, making the room feel even more chaotic than it was to Lestat, who was high as a kite.

He suddenly felt the room tip over and gripped on the ledge of the table behind his back to steady himself.

Louis didn’t seem to notice and Lestat was thankful for it. He didn’t want to be questioned about his eating habits and how he was doing mentally.

Lestat was fine.

He was present here, with Louis of all people, a little upset but not as bad as a few hours ago.

Lestat was in a room full of people and for the first time in a while, he didn’t have the urge to kill out of anger.

Lestat was standing in a room with disco lights and club music that pierced his skull.

Lestat was being basked in said colorful lights, making him feel like he was swimming in a supernatural sea of wonder and love.

When he glanced at Louis—basked in this same colorful hue—he could feel that love like a threat, making his throat close up and his pulse race.

He almost said the words again. I love you.

I love you. I love you. I can’t imagine a lifetime where I don’t love you. My saint. Mon coeur. Ma vie. Mon amour.

These were words and phrases he may never hear his beloved companion utter and it made his heart ache.

Lestat was perfectly fine.

“Lost you for a second there,” Louis noticed with a little laugh, nudging him softly with his shoulder.

“Hmm yes,” Lestat said softly, feeling his eyes well up again.

There was no way he could do this, be around Louis all night and feel these emotions so vigorously. 

Louis was fine so why couldn’t Lestat also be fine?

And if things couldn’t have gotten worse, he watched a younger reporter approach them with a shaky cameraman.

This was going to be a long night.

~ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ~

“If it’s alright with you two, we’d love to steal you away for a quick little interview,” the woman said with a surprisingly confident tone.

Lestat almost scoffed at the irony. Him and Louis doing an interview together. This should be interesting.

“No problem with us,” Louis replied, glancing at Lestat for confirmation.

“Yes, we love talking about ourselves so ask away,” Lestat joked, gaining an eye roll from Louis and a  laugh from the reporter as she signaled her cameraman to start the broadcast.

“I’m joined here tonight with two people who don’t need any introduction but I’ll give it to you anyways,” she began in a joyful tone as she spoke into the camera.

“Next to me is the mastermind behind this gorgeous event, Louis De Pointe Du lac,” she continued and Louis bowed his head as a short acknowledgment.

“And of course next to him is the infamous rockstar, Lestat De Lioncourt,” she finished and Lestat smirked at the camera.

“Mr. Lioncourt, how are you finding this spectacular event so far?” the reporter asked, easing into the interview.

“Spectacular,” he said and Louis rolled his eyes. The reporter forced a laugh as she glanced at her cameraman, her glare showcasing silent annoyance at his bland answer.

"And what makes it so spectacular?” she pushed, trying to keep her voice cheerful for the few thousand or so watching the live broadcast.

Lestat glanced at Louis, who had already been looking at him. He felt his stomach flip at the implication and mentally kicked himself for continuing to feel so strongly for him.

“Louis,” he replied softly, almost in a trance. He watched the vampire blush and felt unmeasurable satisfaction from it.

He looked back at the reporter who was beaming at them with excitement, almost like she knew she could get a huge story on a secret romance if she pushed them hard enough.

“My very dear friend, yes,” Lestat added as if it could help their situation. Oh well.

“Mm, yes, we hear that a lot about you two online,” she said with a laugh and glanced at the camera with that sparkle in her eyes.

“Yes,” Louis interrupted quickly before it could get out of hand. “Me and Lestat have worked together occasionally. I helped organize a listening party for his recent album,” he mentioned and Lestat suddenly remembered that that had been the event they were constantly teasing each other at.

Louis in the dark green, rings decorating his gorgeous fingers. Lestat in cream with red accessories, for once in his career not high.

Entirely because he forgot to pack his drugs, but still.

Lestat remembered how they were arguing immediately as they stepped onto the carpet, then spent the night shooting daggers at each other from across the room as foreplay. And then topping off the night by finally releasing their lust in the public bathroom, staining Lestat’s cream suit in bloody come.

That had been Lestat’s listening party.

It was kind of humorous to him now, that a few nights ago he had completely forgotten about it. The only thing he could remember was Louis, how good he looked and how good he felt pressed up against the stall and bent over the sink.

Disgusting, he heard Daniel comment telepathically and felt his face flush. His emotions had gotten so extreme he had been accidentally projecting these images.

Mind your own business, Lestat shot back and tried focusing on what Louis was saying.

Stop fantasizing about fucking your ex in public. It’s gross, Daniel complained.

More like distracting, Lestat replied.

To whom, exactly? He asked and glanced over his shoulder at Lestat from the other side of the room. Lestat didn’t look back when he answered.

To you, he said and forced back a smirk. To Armand too, I bet. To anyone who can see it in my mind.

I’m telling Louis you’re being overprotective of your nonexistent relationship, the other vampire teasingly threatened.

I’m going to fucking kill you if you dare, Lestat shot back and shut his mind.

Louis seemed a little distracted as he completed his response, glancing sideways at Lestat and blushing.

Oh, yeah. Lestat was going to kill Daniel.

“Yeah, so, we have gotten close over the course of the last couple months,” he finished and the reporter nodded in agreement.

“That’s very clear to us,” she said with a giggle. “So, is it safe or assume that you get free tickets to his concerts?” she asked and Lestat felt the air tense up with another unspoken issue between him and Louis.

Lestat felt it was a question he should answer, since it was impossible for Louis to.

“I invite him every night. I even offer him VIP, best in the house,” he explained, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

“Oh, that is so sweet!” she said with a beaming smile and looked over at Louis.

“And how has that been? Is it really the best seat in the house or is he just saying that to make us jealous?” she joked and Louis smiled awkwardly.

“That would require him to accept my invites,” Lestat muttered and both the reporter and cameraman looked stunned, glancing at each other to make sure they heard correctly.

Lestat found it relieving, seeing that he wasn’t overreacting to Louis turning down his desperate requests. Turning him down.

“It’s hard to show up.  I mean, I’m quite busy,” Louis explained in a soft apologetic tone, avoiding eye contact with Lestat and instead, staring the camera lens down.

“Too busy to come show support?” Lestat argued, staring angrily at his ex.

“Would you say I'm a busy man, cheri?” he suddenly asked the interviewer. She was taken aback at it but still nodded and Lestat looked back at Louis.

“Yet I still come to show my support for you, do I not, mon cher?” he asked bitterly and Louis finally looked at him with that hurt in his eyes. It only angered Lestat more. What did he have to be so upset about?

This was his choice that he was making. Staying away from Lestat and his passion. Oh, but not too far away so that he can’t be able to have him when he’s desperate for love making.

That's exactly what it seemed like. Lestat was heartbroken because it finally hit him that that is exactly what it was.

And if it wasn’t, Louis would have to finally explain himself. No more hiding or running away. He would have to confess in front of God knows how many people.

“I appreciate you more than you can know Lestat,” he said instead with a controlled tone, unlike Lestat’s.

“Appreciate,” Lestat mocked and looked at the interviewer. “Do you know how many times I have told him that I loved him?” he asked, not exactly expecting an answer for no one could know the answer. Lestat had practically said it every day.

He realized he basically confirmed that they had some sort of romantic relationship, but he was way past caring. This was the first time in months he and Louis had properly fought and shared their turn emotions.

“I even wrote it down for him to read after he tried to murder me,” he explained and Louis shook his head, warning him to stop talking.

If a mortal had heard two people talking about a failed murder attempt, they would call the cops.

They didn’t know that they were actually vampires and that the punishment—however controversial the Laws were—was a little different.

“He couldn’t put it onto paper?” he asked and she shrugged, unsure how to respond for this was way above her pay grade.

“Lestat.” Louis warned, trying to get him to regulate his emotions but that was impossible. 

Lestat was always a little hot headed and paired with the many substanced he put in himself prior to the party, he was off the fucking rails.

“Trust me when I say that I go to great lengths to preserve your happiness,” Louis tried instead, clearly regretting it once he realized what he had just said.

Lestat ignored his choice of words, though he was completely aware that it had been conditioned into Louis’ brain for fifty or so years by none other than Armand.

“What fucking happiness?” Lestat angrily asked instead, focusing on that because it managed to piss him off more than Armand’s words.

The reporter jumped back, mumbling in a joking manner that they’d have to censor that word. She signaled to the cameraman to keep rolling because this was juicy and exclusive stuff.

The details of Louis and Lestat’s complicated relationship laid bare for all of humanity to see and use for their own personal amusement.

Glad they could be of service.

“I haven’t been happy for a very long time, cheri!” he confessed. “If you ever stuck around for even a minute after fucking me, then you would have seen it in an instant!” he yelled and Louis put an arm on him, trying to calm him down but Lestat pulled away.

His head was pounding, eyes wide and nerves jittery beyond control. Maybe the drugged meal was a bad idea.

He blamed Daniel.

“You leave me to deal with abandonment alone,” Lestat kept pushing. “You say that you care, but you don’t! I can see that you only come to me when you want something," he continued, voice soar from the screaming.

He watched tears form in Louis’ eyes, angry at himself for being the cause of it but his anger at Louis was stronger so he kept going.

“You don’t even show me that you love me, Louis, so I suppose I'm the biggest fool for still wishing you will say it one day!” Lestat he finished, the deafening silence awkward.

Everyone seemed afraid to speak.

“Excuse us, will you?” Louis said, being the brave one to break the silence.

He grabbed Lestat’s hand, impossible to ignore how badly it was shaking, and directed him to the elevators on the very far end of the hall.

They walked past a few security guards and Louis ordered something to them quietly.

Lestat’s head was pounding so loudly that he couldn’t make out the words, but he watched them approach the pair of reporters and asked them to leave.

The elevator dinged and the metal doors slid open, allowing them to enter. Louis pulled Lestat along by the hand, he was grateful because he was suddenly feeling weak. The anger and yelling had taken a toll on his body.

The worst part was that he could still feel a little high, and he was tired of it for once, the toying of senses and emotions.

He was so tired of it all.

As the doors closed, the deafening music was cut off, finally giving Lestat’s aching head a chance to breathe.

They rode up in painful silence, watching the arch of floor numbers above the doors blink to life one by one as they slowly ascended.

Louis stood near the control panel, staring at Lestat with his eyes full of too many emotions to list. Anger, concern, sadness, to name a few.

Lestat kept his eyes locked on the cool gray of the metal doors, his blurry reflection looking back at him with that same wild expression that he possessed.

Louis was right to be concerned.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered to him and Lestat shut his eyes. He surprisingly found it comforting, hearing Louis say this to him.

At least he was saying something to him regarding feelings. Even if it wasn’t what he hoped for—a love confession, foolish as it was.

Disappointment worked as a fine substitute. At least Louis noticed something.

“Yes, I know,” Lestat agreed softly.

They were quiet for another few seconds. He cursed at the height of the building, thirty floors was a bit extreme and unnecessary.

“Why do you do this?” Lestat asked, breaking the silence.

Louis was taken aback, eyebrows creased in confusion.

“And what exactly do I do?” he asked, a little annoyed but trying to maintain a calm tone to keep Lestat from getting angry again.

“You come and go. You make me ache for your presence and in agonizing time you grace me with it,” he explained, glancing at Louis who was watching him now softly.

“Why do you make me wait for you, mon cher?” he asked, turning to look at him and taking a careful step closer.

“I’d prefer it if you just left me alone, so that I do not spend my nights longing for your return,” he confessed and watched a stray tear roll down Louis’ cheek.

He approached him now, wiping it away with his hand, carefully soaking up the hurt in his eyes. 

Lestat kept watching him, waiting for some sort of answer.

It didn’t come.

He watched as Louis thought of something to say, anything to explain himself. His mouth opened and closed a few times, gathering his thoughts.

He opened it to speak but Lestat caught his mouth with his own, kissing him deeply against the wall.

He wasn’t sure what response he wanted—Louis to kiss him back or to push him away.

But he found himself perfectly content when Louis’ hand wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer.

He could feel the synchronized beat of their hearts, pounding from the energy of their earlier argument and all the things left unsaid.

He forced Louis’ mouth open with his tongue, and felt goosebumps roll down his spine when Louis bit it, causing him to moan.

Lestat felt so incredibly alive.

He kissed him with hunger and much faster now, making it harder for Louis to keep up. Lestat slipped his leg between his thighs and began to slowly grind it against his bulge, making Louis gasp.

“I thought you didn’t want this,” he said breathlessly, pulling away.

Lestat chased him with his lips, aching for connection. Louis put a hand on his chest, keeping him back and forcing him to answer.

“I only ever want you,” he confessed.

It was the truth. Even after everything—his anger at Louis leaving him, making him long for him, unable to see how miserable he was every waking moment for the past few years.

Standing in front of him now was Louis, a softer and interested version, thanks to Lestat’s big spectacle earlier. Louis who might actually open up if Lestat pushed hard enough.

And he decided he was going to push.

“Are you sure, mon cher?” Louis asked softly. Lestat loved it when he called him that. My dear. It only made him more eager.

“Yes, I’m sure. Only if you promise to stay after. I want to wake up next to you,” he answered, smitten with his foolish desires, completely bewitched by Louis as usual, leaning in again for another kiss.

“Les, baby, you’re high,” he argued, cupping his face and brushing his cheek with his thumb, a calculated move to keep him from kissing him again. Lestat was surprised at the sudden comment and stopped perusing it for a moment.

“I’m not,” he claimed, not exactly as convincing as he could’ve been.

Louis just looked at him with a smile that seemed both amused and pitiful.

“I can taste it in your blood,” he explained and Lestat shrugged.

“Maybe you just need a better taste,” he said and caught his lips again, trying to keep him from saying anything else about his current state of health.

He lowered himself towards Louis’ neck, nibbling and sucking there, satisfied at the way he gasped at the pleasure.

He got on his knees, tugging at Louis’ expensive pants in desperation. Louis put a hand under his chin and lifted it so he could look at him as he spoke, struggling to deny his lust.

“Lestat, don’t. You’re unwell,” he warned, looking down at him with suppressed hunger in his eyes.

“I’ve always been bad at following rules, cheri,” he shot back with a grin before unzipping his pants.

He watched as his cock sprang out and hungrily kissed the tip, watching Louis’ expression as he worked.

He eagerly slipped the entire thing into his mouth, the taste of precome making him moan.

Lestat sucked it deep, knowing that it’s what Louis loved to start with. He watched as the vampire threw his head back, mouth hanging open in pleasure. Lestat had the urge to go up and kiss him but didn’t.

He kept sucking, pulling back and using his tongue to lick the tip again.

They were almost at the top of the building now, only a few floors left. He had to work quickly.

He went faster and used more force, shoving his cock all the way into his mouth, making Louis moan and grip his hair for support.

He felt himself tear up a little, but it felt too good to care.

Lestat allowed his hair to be tugged at, Louis guiding him along through the pleasure.

He shoved it repeatedly, deeper and faster each time, the sound of wetness and moans echoing in the small space.

Soon enough, Louis came with a gasp that sent chills down Lestat’s spine, the taste of him like nothing imaginable, hot as it slid down his throat.

Just as Lestat fixed his pants, Louis pulled him up into a kiss. Their tears flowed down their cheeks and merged until it was impossible to tell whose was whose.

The elevator dinged, and the doors swung open to an empty hallway. They stumbled out, mouths still pressed against each other as they made their way to the room Louis was occupying for the night.