vampireblood

open.

whatever canon point. text spam. picture prompt. overflow. psl. etc.
nsfw content possible in some threads.

from here.

( yes. where? certainly not where they once inhabited. now, simply a stop for tourists on their adventures in new orleans. and yet the blond sometimes still goes by every now and then. despite the ghosts which linger in its windows. ghosts from a time when a vampire family roamed its lavish hallways and staircases.

but also, not where they had last met in the middle of an angry hurricane. life had become... less than lavish for the blond vampire over the years, yet he could never truly pull himself from the city which he favored and thought of as his home. didn't wish to indulge and live as he once had with the other vampire and their daughter there at his side. he had chosen, instead to descend into a darkness he's all too familiar with and stay there. for however long he needed to. but. lestat de lioncourt, while prone to his temper, moods, fits of jealousy, and debilitating loneliness, has survived and will continue to survive. all in good time.

a glance around the room he currently inhabits, it's to the screen his gaze drops onto once again. )

Are you now? Going to make me think you never left.

( but of course he had. )

I have a place. For the moment. If it's not too far from where you are.

( with that message, an address is attached to a map with a pindrop in it. a townhouse in a relatively quiet part of the neighborhood that was once theirs. )

[ It wasn't like Louis hadn't stopped by his old haunts the moment he stepped foot in New Orleans. There was perhaps a bar or two that remained, but they were dressed up and all fancy like now. They were there to turn a profit every bit as much as when he left, but made to separate the tourists wearing their flippy flops and short shorts from their dollar bills using keychains, cheaply made masks, and little magnets that said I got drunk in New Orleans, instead of booze and women. Now, the storefronts blasted out sounds that were loud affronts to Louis' old southern musical palate instead of the sweet jazz and blues sounds he was used to. Oh, the jazz was there, but it was mixed amid a cacophony of other sounds.

Louis might have cast a glance for his old palatial building, but it cease to be a home the moment he and Claudia betrayed Lestat. Shaking his head at the phone in front of him, Louis sits in a dark park. Every now and then strangers wander past, some leer at the thin, lone black man and others move to walk further away. He has a laugh at himself now. It's been so long, that he doesn't even know the ins and outs of this city any longer. Has it really been so long? The buzz of his phone jerks him away from his thought, and he shakes his head once more. ]

If only.

[ Then there comes the pin. Louis sits there for another fifteen minutes at least merely gazing at the dot. He knows where Lestat is. He'd gone by that area earlier, casting his vampire net wide. How small did it make him feel to know that he couldn't feel the greatest love in his life any longer. They'd been so close, and Louis simply couldn't feel it, maybe he'd notice something. Maybe he'd still been blocking it all along, scared to truly find what he was looking for once more. Small trails of red withered down his face before he realized it . On his feet and walking, Louis found himself in a car and parking nearby. The next thing he recalled was standing in front of that door. There was the occasionally beat of his heart. In any other body, it would have been a missive to hoof beats, but not his.

Unable to bring himself to knock, Louis finally lifted his phone one last time. ]

I'm outside the door.

( perhaps this is nothing more than another foolish moment waiting to happen between them. it would certainly track, given their history and other moments similar enough to foolish over the years. sometimes on his end, sometimes on louis. mostly his though. he can see that now. for the most part, anyways. yet here he is. alone in this cozy little townhouse. waiting to see if the other will come to him once again. fool me once — when you'd killed me, mon cher — shame on you. fool me twice, shame on me. he wonders as he sits, if he's to be fooled again. be made to be the fool again. smile faint, distant memories of him and armand there after everything that had happened at the theater... when he'd given louis over to the other vampire, knowing what hadn't been done on his end.

but louis would figure it out, as he had said. he knew he would, just. it took a little longer than he had hoped, but. louis could be infuriatingly difficult at times. that much, it seems, hadn't changed over the years.

he doesn't know what he's expecting. doesn't know whether he should make haste in seeing to it that he looks the part he's always played. when they'd last met, he was but a shell of his glory days self here in the city he calls home and while he's come out of that shell since then, he's not entirely there yet. also, louis is just... different. special. as he has always been to him and continues to be even now.

the message comes — pops up on the screen there and he stares at it for a long moment. slow tilt of his head. a moment of reconsidering all of this.

then the door is slowly opening and he's there behind it. blond locks of hair touching his shoulders. eyes blue and holding within them an apprehensive caution despite the fondness there soft in his gaze. a white dress shirt, sleeves unbuttoned and flowing around slim wrists, he presses a hand to the door. leans against the edge of it some. stands there, eyeing the other vampire in silence before he finds it within himself to speak at all. )

Hello, Louis.

[ There's a pounding, a ringing in Louis' ears while he stands there in the longest, short wait ever. It was one of the most profound paradoxes he could find. Days, weeks, hours, years, all written within the framework of the the seconds it took Lestat to answer that wooden door. Why wooden in this modern age, Louis had time enough to ponder, to pull his mind from the dilemma at hand. He yanked his throat from the bowls of his stomach and placed his fingers against the frame, caressing them as once he did the face of the man he loved beyond himself.

Not that it was very difficult to love much beyond himself. Louis wrapped himself in the skins of self-loathing for the majority of his life. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. He found fault at every turn, from his whoring ways to the fact that he gave in to his blood-destined future. Louis might never forgive himself, or perhaps he might very well be at last on some road of quiet self-redemption and this was the first crack in his thick, thick armor. He only needed to see those eyes to know if they could ever forgive him.

Then suddenly it happened. Louis felt the rush of air leave the townhouse before he could even lift his head. He heard the voice before he allowed himself the vision. Inhaling a breath that wasn't truly needed, the vampire lifted closed eyes and with care begun to open the drapery. It wasn't the forgeries that he'd so often let fill his head. It wasn't the man standing there in the sewers. It was the one that had saved him, and let him believe all this time that it was another. Words sat caught in his throat, hanging on a knot that refused to be dislodged.

Until finally. ]

Lestat. Finally. It is you. It really is you, isn't it.

( there's something to be said in the way this moment seems to simply pause. he thought it might happen. it had before. when he had first seen the very human, very hidden louis de pointe du lac so many years ago. here. in the streets of new orleans. he'd felt it then and he'd felt it during that hurricane not all that long ago. then and then and once again now. a moment that seems to crucial to him in ways he can't yet decipher, but. knows that once it passes, he will.

he doesn't move. doesn't invite the other in just yet. he stands there. pressed to the edge of the door his hand still rests against. staring to the other, much as he had the last time they had seen each other. not... wary, but. something else. a curiosity mixed within a quiet apprehension he doesn't often let others see.

after a moment, he swallows. a lazy shrug. )

Last I checked. Reinventing oneself is an art all in itself. It takes time, preparation, rehearsal. Which I was doing before you decided you wanted to stop by.

( still eyeing him. silent. he pulls back from the door then. slowly. )

Do you want to come in?

Edited 2024-08-31 21:49 (UTC)

[ Before had been practice. It had been the very start of his reckoning. There are still doubts in Louis' mind regarding all that had come to pass during that whirling storm. The winds had ravaged the coast, tearing the world around them apart in the same way they had previously torn their own lives apart before finding one another again. It was irony's metaphor in full force.

This time Louis had boiled his blood, and knew exactly how it felt to hold court as a vampire of one. It wasn't like his relations with Armand amounted to anything. What kind of person could see the world through so selfish a gaze that they would twist their lover's memory to see it the exact same way. That was no love at all. For whatever fault there was with Lestat, Louis believed he would never be that.

Stepping in toward the blond now, Louis wrinkles his forehead in a practiced motion. ]

Don't you need someone to watch the rehearsals, make sure they're going well?

[ Louis' hand slides up along the doorframe to meet Lestat's, fingers slipping up to cross over a pianist's hand as they do. ]

I would, thank you.

[ Stepping beyond the threshold, Louis breathes in his surroundings. He inhales Lestat de Lioncourt, recalling so many memories that they have shared together. It's easy to watch them dancing across a floor, or kissing there, pressed up against a wall. It's a rush that makes him dizzy. He forces his hand to stay at his side and not rise to his head where his world blurs briefly, every bone in his body aching to reach out. ]

It's lovely here, real nice like.

( this dance of theirs is a familiar one. a dance which neither of them have truly danced in an incredibly long time. one which he began the moment he saw the other on the streets of new orleans, unbeknownst, at the time, that he had found himself such a challenge of a dancing partner and yet... he'd still have it no other way.

he invites the other in, stands there while louis accepts. the brief flicker of curiosity at the acceptance there in blue eyes. a step back — hand slipping from the faded wood of the door, eyes never seeming to leave the other. were it anyone else, he would be a predator watching its prey. but with louis, it's more a wounded heart longing for its other. for its companion.

the door shuts. a soft click. and in black leather pants — because of course he would be — he steps away. eyes louis before forcing himself to look away. )

It's temporary. ( a lazy wave of his hand. ) The walls are not particularly to my taste and the furniture is very last season but... ( a few steps ahead, his gaze falls back to the other vampire. ) ...would you like a drink?

[ All the years of resistance still bind themselves around Louis like a bottleneck around a tight crook in a winding river where the logs all gather competing to see which will manage their way through first. All the guilt that's been plastered against his soul, all the weight that he never forgets to carry, fights against the free vampire he wishes to be now that he's finally in Lestat's presence free and clear once more.

Louis knows now, finally, that what he's been given is an eternal gift, offered out from a place of love. It's not a burden. It's not a weight to be carried about his body like a werewolf chained at the full moon. The gift might have been misguided, restricted, obsessive, and all sorts of other things when it was given, but above all, it was offered in love. It still is, Louis believes. Looking at the way Lestat flicks his eyes towards him, ringed blue eyes filling his vision, he's so completely overtaken by that emotion once more.

The sound of his footsteps match the sound of the leather pressing together from Lestat's thighs. Louis more practical in his fashion, and yet suave in his suit, pressed and neat . When he pauses in the hall, he lifts the corner of his lip in a fashion more familiar than his voice. ]

I believe I will, and you know this place is just fine. You don't have to worry about me, I've seen far worse.

[ There's the softest lilt of humor in his voice, a smile to his lips. ]

Well. That makes two of us.

( claudia’s death ranking high amongst the horrors he has seen.

it’s not towards the kitchen but the den he makes his way to. an armoire of sorts tucked in against an overflowing bookshelf that he opens with just the softest creak about it. from it, he retrieves a glass, sparkling in the way the light from the lamps catches it and into it, blood is poured from a carafe taken from a small cooling system. upon doing so, he looks over to louis there. )

Before you get any ideas, blood banks are a marvellous thing to shop. ( a tilt of his head. ) After hours, that is.

( with that explained, he holds the glass out to louis, fingers gentle in the way they cradle the stem of it between them. watching him. unable to really let himself not. )

[ There's still a faint turn of lips as Louis thinks about some of the terrible accommodations he lived through with Claudia as they shuttered themselves across Europe, living below the dirt and in places that even the dead might call cleanly. Then again, modern day living hardly compares to anything that once was.

Following into the den, Louis finds himself without words and all glorious things he knew he had to express to Lestat once he got here in order to win him back. They've escaped now, gone flew the coop. They might come back, then again silence while sometimes aggressively uncomfortable hasn't always been an unmitigated horror show between them.

Stepping into the dim light of Lestat's shadow as he pulls out the goblet, Louis watches. He would like to think that it wouldn't bother him how the blood was obtained. He prefers to drink without killing, but it's not that he has to live hard and fast by that rule.

He can't help but laugh though, slipping his fingers along Lestat's as he takes the glass, two against two, resting for moments too long before taking them back. ]

I would have taken it no matter what, but thank you.

[ Taking a sip, he waits for Lestat to pour himself a drink, eyes never once wavering, even as he slowly coats his lips in a dark red. If anything, a step finds himself closer, hovering in the older vampire's space. Louis aching to reach out, to touch Lestat, do something other than stand and drink. ]

( lestat has always had a certain knack at reading louis despite their inability to read one another's thoughts. perhaps it was due to how perceptive and cunning the blond vampire tends to be. or perhaps it was simply due to the overwhelming love and adoration that bordered on obsession he felt for the other vampire, even when he was a man. whatever the case, when louis takes a step forward into his space, he lets him. doesn't pull back. doesn't turn away and prattle on about the furnishings of the place he's currently inhabiting. but he doesn't come in closer either. doesn't invite the other in. rather, he stands there. his own drink in hand. door of the armoire slowly closing with a gentle push of a single finger to it.

he smiles. faint. a lift of his glass in salut before he takes to indulging in a sip himself and, as he does, watches the other vampire there over the brim of the sparkling glass. in the silence there between them from drinks being had, he takes a moment to collect his own thoughts. to try and see through louis' own train of thought before he licks over his lips with the glass dropping away from them. )

You look good.

( the words come out without his even realizing it at first. or maybe he does. either way, he looks down to his glass. tip of a pale fingernail gently tapping at the side of it. )

Time has been kind to you, I hope?

( for the most part, anyways. he knows louis has always struggled with who and what he had become because of him. even if it only took him forever to come to realize that it had been a gift — a dark gift — out of his love for him rather than a curse. )

[ Now that Louis is here, standing in Lestat's shadow he slowly allows himself the theory of breath, remembering to relax all that he'd been blocking. It's funny because Louis had never been particularly good at blocking his thoughts, his feelings from anyone around him, but apparently this one time he'd gotten something right. It was age, he figured. He'd been letting a whole lot in, listening to all those voices out there in the night, all those shouting his name as a curse. They never came, never invaded his tower.

He wasn't there any longer. He was here, slowly breathing in all that was Lestat once more. Louis could feel the flex of his power, that deep well that always rolled over him like a crushing wave whenever Lestat moved into a room nearby. The one that forever told Louis of his presence. It was still there. Louis inhaled it. He wanted to roll around in it like a pig does mud. Closing his eyes, he forgot himself briefly.

Dropping his hand to his side, he returned to Lestat's voice. ]

Thanks, uh, you look even better. Better than last time, but even then you looked good. You always do.

[ Taking that step in now, Louis touches Lestat's side. He's waited long enough and can't help himself. It's always been Lestat who has chased him, followed him, been there. It was Louis who pushed him away over and over, in the most gruesome manner. Louis knows that he did it for himself, trying to prove that he was over Lestat when he was anything but.

Running his fingers along Lestat's side, Louis slides them down the more powerful vampire's side and pauses, eyes focused on the man across from him, waiting for the rejection he deserves. ]

Time has been, you know. I have been locked away in Dubai for a long time. After forgetting all that happened in the 70's, at the trial, I locked myself away and didn't have a reason to leave. I pretended to be happy, but I wasn't. How could I be?

Now I sit there, and listen to.. them. I know you hear them too. That's me, that's my life. It's nothing, it's empty. I'm nothing without you, Lestat.

Well. Glad to know I haven't lost my touch there.

( in looking good, he means. because he had certainly lost his touch — lost louis' touch — when it came to keeping their happy little trio together. when it came to keeping louis... came to thinking the other might actually love him.

there's that step forward then. a step which he hadn't been sure whether or not the other vampire would take and, when he does, he's left standing there. silent. staring. uncertainty there in his eyes where desire and amusement would have once been. even when fingers so gently touch at his side, his gaze doesn't leave the other's and he listens to what he tells him.

for a moment, there's a flicker of something there on his face. heartache. recalling the way his fears had been confirmed of that day armand called him there at louis' side. yes. there had been no happiness for so long for either of them and louis had struggled in ways he had never wanted the other to struggle. regardless of their fights. regardless of the things they had done to each other. to hurt himself the way he had... he had never wanted that for louis. still doesn't, even now.

he lets his gaze drop. allows it to linger on the blood there still in the glass he holds. taking a moment for himself. this closeness between them something he had wondered if he would ever feel again. and then he goes and says what he does and lestat looks up. surprised and it shows in his expression as he stares to louis there. were this so many years ago, how swift his cheeky response would be to such flattery, but. instead, he struggles to hold the other's gaze. struggles to stay there with him in the closeness of both touch and this moment. )

You have never been nothing, Louis. ( he finally says, soft. ) You have been... there is no one else like you. There still isn't. Tu es tout pour moi.

( you are everything to me. )

[ The flicker of a look isn't completely missed. It's reasons could be multitude, Lord almighty knows that Louis has done enough to break Lestat's heart a million times over. The fact that he can even stand here and sip the blood together with the man is a downright miracle in Louis' mind. They might have had their fights, but Louis knows he was a bear to be with; he was miserable and while he's apologized and agonized over it with Lestat already, it still weighs in his heart of hearts.

Standing here now, he does his best to push that part aside for the sake of right now. They'll never stand a modicum of a chance if he can't step outside his negligent, and terribly selfish nature for one brief second and focus solely on the reason for this visit, and that is to regain back the sunlight in his life. Louis knows that no matter how it might work going forward, it won't work without Lestat. His eternity mixed among the mortals and whatever vampires he does come across was meant to be filled with the older vampire's presence.

Allowing Lestat his peace, Louis waits. Knowing in his mind this might be the time Lestat will finally push him away like he turned from him during that final bit of production on stage while his heart bled, while he slowly turned to death. It might not have been his time to time, but he knew those were the nails in his proverbial coffin. Lestat was and is his life. There's a small slump of relief that corners his shoulders at Lestat's answer. ]

I let it happen Lestat. I allowed it all to happen, every bit of it. I should have been smarter. I know I could have been wiser. You... you are everything to me as well. I have longed for you for so many years, and pushed you away because I hated myself, before all this happened even. I know better know. I've grown. I don't just need you in my life, Lestat. I want you here.

[ Setting his cup on the cooler from which it came, Louis uses the hand that is no available to cup the slant of Lestat's jawline. He draws a sharp contrast down the prominent cheekbone and holds him there carefully. ]

( words as sweet as nectar from the gods themselves. ones he had so very longed to hear in the past and over the years. ones he had almost begged the other to say to him countless times with everything they had done and been together. how difficult it is for him to not feel some sort of way about them even now, years later, in this house that isn't home. even with their twisting something up within him to the point where he feels he might break and shatter at the slightest touch — a touch that louis himself inflicts upon him there across his very cheek. it burns in a way the sun never could and he can't help his eyes from falling shut.

every part of him from within cries the other's name. louis. louis. louis. louis. in desire, in anger, in heartache, in desperation. how many times has the other's name slipped from his silver tongue in ways no one else's ever has? how many times has he wanted the other to come back to him like this? even with everything he's done and that's happened between them. there is little meaning to life without the presence of louis de pointe du lac within it. even if they are not together in said life.

the blood is forgotten. held there by the tips of his fingers at his side. where once he would find amusement and joy at the other's need to have him in his life, he now stands there. fighting with himself. wanting to do what is best for this man. this man who he had never stopped loving. never stopped referring to as mon cher. even with all the blood on his hands.

he swallows. looks up then. stares to the other and there is a brokenness inside those blue eyes that teeters on a dangerous edge even for him. )

Are you lonely, Louis? ( a nod of his head forward. ) Do you understand now what it means to feel loneliness for a vampire?

[ It was a supposedly a simple question, but the truth to that question held the greatest weight of all. There was a weariness to Louis' soul that had started far before he was a vampire. He knew loneliness then, and instead of finding the partner and love he believed he was granting himself, giving into that dark night, Louis found an even greater pit than he could ever imagine. There was love, a love that curled around the deepest recesses of his heart in ways he wouldn't let himself have, wouldn't allow himself the pleasure of reveling in because he didn't deserve it for the devilish man he'd become.

Squandering that love away, Louis went from one maddening thing to another trying without any broken pieces of success to find a single thing to fill that hole that he never allowed Lestat's love to access. It wasn't that he didn't know it was there. It was always there, lingering in the corner of his mind. Lestat visited in visions, and even when he'd pressed him away, he was there in the tales Louis wove, and thoughts and visions. Lestat was always the rod that he held everyone else in the world up to. No wonder no one survived.

As for the answer to the question. Did he understand loneliness for a vampire? He'd always understood it. He only claimed ignorance. Louis finally gave up that ignorance and decided to do something about it. Watching the broken parts of Lestat, Louis feels his heart begin to shatter as it has done before, can he patch up this mess that he has made. ]

I know it. I've known it since leaving you, since denying that I loved you because I hated myself. I've been so lonely for so long. You have always been with me, in visions, in the stories where I told myself I didn't need you, because I did, I do. Lestat, Mon ange. Do you understand what I am saying? You have always been the one. Is there any hope for this heart of mine?

[ Feeling the brokenness of the man before him, Louis takes the hand that had rested so softly at Lestat's waist and moves it to hover over his heart. He recalls now those last little words about having Louis name stitched on the inside of jackets so they would rest above Lestat's heart. It brought a streak of red to line the light blue-green of Louis' eyes. ]

( what a comfort, he thinks. to have been there with the other even in death. to think that not even a perfect and justified betrayal as the one the two of them had pulled on him could erase his very presence from the other's mind... from the depths of his broken heart. it's a compliment, really. a terribly depressing one, but. one nonetheless and one which holds the blond's attention there.

the red comes and without even thinking about it — without a beat of hesitation, he catches that drop of blood with the pad of his thumb. wipes it away so very gently there against the other's cheek. his expression pained. for him. for louis. for them. for everything that has happened and they must carry with them even beyond a moment of reconciliation. sweeter days where he wonders the possibilities of them ever being recreated again. it's impossible, he thinks. but, as before with nicky, he had found a sweetness again in life with louis. unlike with dear nicky, louis is still here.

perhaps against his better judgment, he speaks. )

My heart has always been yours, mon cher. ( hand still there at louis' face, now coming to gently cradle it. ) Even when I have not deserved yours.

[ There's a point where Louis thinks that there's no going back, that while they might still be pained and painted into this portraiture of this once possibly, terribly squandered love, there may no map that draws them back to the same conclusion together. It's like the shirt that was forever stained with the blood of Lestat, the kind that would only be burned, never to become clean again. That was how his heart felt since that one moment, but there. Touch. His touch..

It's bridged the divide, and while it's not the first time they've touched since he's come into the light's presence, it's the first time he's felt so clearly known with all these sins covering his skin like dark lettering tattoos. Previously it was always Lestat who made every bold transgression between them, he sought the passion, pressed the kisses to his lips, held the lapse of breath at his throat.

Now it was time for Louis to show that he held passion still, never truly having lost what it was that they rolled around in that their first night and every night there forward. Cupping that hand at his cheek, Louis turned, kissed the plush slightly warm flesh. His teeth cut at it and he let drops of blood weep into his mouth. Holding still his other hand at Lestat's cheek, he moved it to his mouth, insinuating the same.

This was far more intimate than anything beyond words. It was blood, it was life, it was sex, it was theirs to share between them. ]

( seldom is there anything more intimate — and in a number of ways — than the act of drinking for a vampire. from the hunt, to the lead up, to the act itself and everything felt both during and after... it is nothing that he grows tired of indulging in, but it has been some time since he has really indulged.

lips part. breath soft. eyes growing dark for the first time in what feels like years as louis laps at the blood he selfishly seeks and he watches with a slow burning desire there in those eyes of his as the den, the townhouse, the very world around them slowly begins to recede from his vision and all he can see is louis de pointe du lac.

all he can see is them.

teeth nip at one of louis' fingers. soft. a touch playful. curious with as to whether or not he can anymore. a nip that's sharp enough to cut flesh and coax a thin drop of blood. it falls to his tongue. he sighs. eyes growing more intense as he watches the other there so close to him — as he holds to his face still with that tooth-scratched hand. nosing him. brow pressed to his. letting the very scent of the other pull him under to the point where he can barely breathe... and then his lips are on louis. on his sweet, beautiful mouth. kissing him. tenderly painful. pouring into him his heart and heartache for this part of him that he has missed and hurt so deeply. )

[ That taste, those first few drips of dark red that spread across his lips, migrate along his tongue and begin to coat the back of Louis' throat are a flip through time, across long gaps in his memory. Maybe Louis tasted from the neck of mortals and immortals alike in recent years, but it was without passion. He still did not comprehend what it was that he had in the Dark Gift.

Watching Lestat now, there is no lack of understanding at Lestat's response. It's measured the same in the young Cajun vampire across from him. Louis' but a fraction of a heartbeat from the pulse that beats in what he hears as fits and starts beneath Lestat's wrist. It's almost too much to handle, but what's more is the way they watch one another across their mutual intimacies.

One step and then another leads Louis backward. He doesn't know if he's taking them of his own accord or if he's being lead, but it matters not. All that he knows is that finally their lips are sealed and he can taste the mingling of their blood together once more, for the first time in near eighty years and it's an orgasm in itself. Tears cascade down his cheeks and find their way across their lips. It starts soft, gentle as all these things do, but the passion is there and Louis cannot keep an accounting for it. It shatters into something wild and fierce as their hearts do, and all those names written across them, all the ones that they've had the tragedy to break in the wake of their love.

One does not have to have an accounting of all the wrongs between them, all the names of those that have burned up in the flames of their terribleness, but maybe, perhaps they can pull this together in some indiscriminate fashion, and make up for it all. Maybe, Louis hopes and prays, he can do this one thing the right way. He sups deeply from Lestat's mouth, cutting lip and tongue as they slant and slide together, wanting so much more. ]

( no natter the years apart between them and the circumstances for which they are, the bond they share with one another — so intimate, so them, stretching across a lifetime and then some — can never be severed.

everything he has ever felt — everything they have ever shared with each other, comes back to him in the tidal wave of passion and emotion as is often the case when they return to one another like this. days, weeks, months. six years, seventy years, more. regardless of how long the gap, when they come together like this, there is nothing and no one else in the world but them. for they have always been more than maker and fledgling. but companions in love and death.

the sigh on his lips is sweet and soft, mouth brushing over louis' as his drink is forgotten on the closest shelf and hands smooth along the tender slopes of his neck. holding to him. touching him in such a way he has longed to for so many years now. ways in which he told himself he would should he ever see him again— should he ever be so lucky to have this again. yet despite the careful touch of fingers on skin, not wishing to break his precious louis again, the passion between them has always been one with great intensity and now is no different than it was so many years ago here, in new orleans, with miss lily asleep there on the couch.

it starts off subtle. one hand dropping to the front of the other's shirt, fingers twisting within the material of it. the other gripping tight to the slope of his neck, lips feverishly seeking louis' between carefully sharp nips. then he's falling back against the wall, a resounding thud heard around them with the heavy impact of it, and he's marking his way along the other's neck with teeth and lips, burying himself there while pulling him in closer by the shirt. he has seldom needed anything more than louis to feel intoxicated in life once again. )

I missed you.

( words that are but a murmur against the curve of that neck he playfully bites, not enough with the desire to drink from him, but to simply taste him against his teeth and tongue. )

[ Passions between them never simmered softly. To Louis it always seemed to conflagrate quickly, a spark to set it off before all of the holy roman empire descended to burn them as heretics for what they were, and how they loved. They loved as they fought, with the fervor of a thousand forest fires.

How those hands felt as they curled Louis' shirt round about against his chest. It had him desperate and eager to shred through the fabric with his rounded and sharp nails. Not allowing Lestat the freedom of hesitation, the young vampire reached low and with the practiced pull and yanking of a man obsessed, he worked Lestat's shirt above and over his head, marking the other with small adoring touches of his mouth as he did. ]

You, I have missed you so. I have missed this, this passion between us.

[ With a curse and a moan, Louis tipped his head back against the wall, setting it there while Lestat took him fully for granted in every manner of sickness he wanted. Louis wanted the touch of that tongue, and those teeth on every part of his body. There was no part of him that didn't crave his master's touch, the beat of his heart that Lestat was. ]

( how easy it is to fall into this all over again.

he'd wondered if he could. if they could, once more, after years apart and everything that had come from such a separation. because that was how he viewed it. a separation for the time being, as they'd done before. impossible, at least to him, to ever view it as anything along the lines of a divorce, given their bond and how, once more, it can never truly be severed between them. no matter time, no matter pain, no matter where their individual lives may take them. at some point, they will always, always come back to one another.

such as now.

he lets louis remove his shirt — seeks his lips the second he's able to. tips his head back and, for the first time in some time, there is a sound that leaves him that, regardless of how soft it may be, is far too close to his amusement from older days. earlier days between them. )

What passion we had.

( passion that ended up practically tearing the house down at one point. granted, that was more violent, but. still a sort of passion nonetheless.

he brushes the pad of his thumb over louis' bottom lip. nicks it on a sharp tooth, hard enough to pierce skin and let that drop of blood squeeze its way into the other's mouth. a tilt of his head, blond strands falling gently in front of his face some. watching with blue eyes filled with such desire for the other vampire there in front of him. )

Passion we still have, it seems.

( the words are nothing more than a soft breath against louis' lips before he's kissing him again, chasing after this rekindled passion between them, no matter how fleeting it might end up being. hands grip at the other's neck, mouth devouring each kiss he both steals and is given there against the wall. a sudden tug then to the front of louis' pants, nosing at the other vampire as he stares into his eyes with his own, pressed close. )

If you're planning on staying, might I suggest one of the bedrooms? ( suggested as he pops open the front of those pants with a press of his thumb. )

Have...

[ The word is a jumble on already swollen lips that blur the lines between french and english only seconds before Lestat is letting yet another drop of his blood freely smear along the direly parched lips of one Louis du Lac. Even a few drops is enough to have him reaching up to hold the finger there for seconds longer, seeking a minimal feast until he finds those eyes watching him once more.

The rings of blue echo his own circles of desire back. If ever there's a moment that Louis knows he belongs to Lestat it is now. Not that he ever actually doubted it, not for a single second. He knows that theirs was something that never broke, nor truly departed from the beings that they were. It took a break, but the break is no longer and this is a time to seal it back together for good.

The passion is so painful, the love, it hurts with the depths of its intensity and wells of depravity. If ever others could understand how deeply vampires feel with the weight of eternity featuring in their every love story, they'd never divorce in their very short lifespans. The way it pulls at Louis heart during Lestat's kiss is enough to make him feel like he's lost and found all at once, cliche as it might sound.

Feeling that sudden pop of his pants, Louis doesn't hesitate to grip and pull at Lestat's ass, bringing it in tight to rub their pricks together through clothing with a curse. ]

I do hope that's an invitation for both your bed, and to stay the night. My answer is yes to both.

[ Looking down at his pants, he wets his bottom lip and darkens the gaze he regards Lestat with. There's not only a sweet passion, but a deepening hunger that hasn't been filled in eighty years. There's no one but Lestat who knows exactly what Louis likes. There's no one who can command him like Lestat, and now that Louis knows what it's like take charge, he can't wait to push back a little and see what happens, to take what he wants in part. ]

I think we need a lot less clothing, a lot less.

( there's a spark that comes to life within him when he's grabbed the way that he is. a spark which hasn't been felt by him in such an incredibly long time now. that light that shines within him, the very one which nicki so fondly spoke of... sometimes not so fondly... it had been dimmed over the years to the point of being nearly forgotten even by himself. non-existent. and yet, here it is. a spark of it. a glimmer of his old self here with the one person in this entire world he cares for like no other.

the one person he will continue to love, no matter the circumstances between them.

that darkened gaze louis meets his own with, draws a warm breath from the blond and he presses that breath against the other vampire's lips— steals from them a heated kiss, hand cradling his face as he does. he'd nearly forgotten how easy it was to slip into this with louis. how, even when furious with one another, the passion between them still burned brighter than the very sun itself. yes. of course he wants louis to stay with him. it's what he's always wanted from the moment he first laid eyes upon him. to share such an eternity with him and no other. it is and always has been the one thing he's wanted, other than his love.

brow pressed to his, the pad of his thumb caresses across the other's cheekbone and he breathes so softly the words there against those lips: )

Come to bed then. ( the softest brush of his mouth over louis'. ) Share my bed with me, mon cher.

🍷 louis, mon cher.

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