vampireblood

open.

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

( 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.

[ And like that the switch flipped from a distinguished need that would break walls to something made of a love that's far sweeter than any flower a poet might compare it to. Their love is an insurmountable, undeniable thing and has been since the moment Lestat pulled Louis under his spell. Perhaps it was even from first sight. Who's to say when their cars crashed together, but ever since the drizzle and the hurricane have both lived together within Louis' heart.

Feeling the sweet, sweet touch of his lover's lips across his own, Louis follows Lestat to the bedroom. There was never a doubt in his mind that this is where his anxiety lay. This is why he sought Lestat out, and begged him nearly on his knees to allow Louis to return. Standing now in the Lestat's bedroom, Louis looked around and inhaled the smell of the man he belonged to always. ]

I will always share your bed with you. I will never leave if you'll have me again.

[ Moving slowly to Lestat, Louis caught his eyes and carefully ran his hands along the other vampire's chest, down to the button of his pants. He didn't bother to undo the button. Instead, Louis did something to show how much he wanted this. He dropped to his knees before Lestat, and began to nuzzle against his thighs and across the center of his pants, nosing along Lestat's balls and the soft bulge of his cock. ]

I want this. I want to stay with you, be with you always.

( perhaps to the surprise of no one, the room lacks windows in the sense of being seen. covered and forgotten as if merely part of the wall and its decor, the only light which fills the room is that from the lamps which softly throw a glow around the floor and walls.

the room is both lestat and yet not at the same time. a temporary space, as he put it, still with whimsical touches from the blond vampire and his personal tastes in art and life. the bed reminiscent to the one they shared in their life here in new orleans so many years ago, with that polished wood and ornate knobs at the headrest. faint reminders of a life he once lived with the other here now dropping down to his knees before him.

seeing louis like that... it brings back memories of a time in their bedroom. when the other had brought back a dying human claudia — who would become their daughter — and begged him, just like this on his knees, to turn her. please. over and over again.

i will never leave if you'll have me again, he says, and lestat can only stare down to the vampire as he recalls such similar words once mumbled to him before. a promise to never leave him, if he would turn this girl for him. please. please. please.

breath, unexpectedly, catches in the back of his throat at the parallels and he looks up. eyes wet. he wants to believe him. please don't leave me, louis. the one thing aside from his love he has always wanted and strived so hard to keep control of by any means necessary. so much, to the point of having broken the one person he should have never broke. something he still carries with him to this day even years later.

lips pursed, it's a breath of laughter that leaves him then and yet it lacks the bright bark lestat is known to have and, instead, carries with it a bittersweet sorrow which he tries to reel back in. )

Ah, Louis.

( he shakes his blond strands out of his face. tips his head back. stares above them as he smiles faintly to himself. )

These words are familiar. ( a breath, a slow close of his eyes. ) I want to believe them. More than anything.

[ Hardly taking note of the room that he's in, Louis skims the fairly empty portions of space. Perhaps he notes that there are no books, nothing for Lestat to delight in and realizes then that this is truly a transitory space. Eyes settle on the bed, from where he kneels, hands sliding up and down Lestat's legs with reverence.

This is hardly anything like that one pathetic, hopeless, night full of the pleas of a despairing, withdrawn, vampire full of shame and remorse over the being that he'd become. Louis couldn't see what he was about to do, and the actions that he was taking now in comparison to that dark night until Lestat laughed so ruefully. It lacked that touch of something that always sparked his laughter, and then Louis had a clue.

Looking up from where he was and thinking of what he was to do, he swallowed thickly and felt a familiar guilt and shame clog his veins and weigh down his heart. Was he that same man once more? Could he never be truly set free, must all love come with the price of memories that would never be forgiven completely, never released. ]

Lestat. I assure you, that is not why I am here on my knees. I got down here that I might enjoy you, pleasure you. I wasn't thinkin about before... I want you to see joy. I want to start this part all new. If you can't do it, then let me go. If the memories hold too much pain... I mean, I can't force myself upon you no matter how much I want you. You make me complete, but I'll wait if i gotta. I deserve it.

( his apprehension is justified. he tells himself this as he stands there, looking down to the vampire there still on his knees in front of him. despite the love which he has for louis, there is some part of him worried that this might lead to a repeat of history between them. something he feared with louis after his dear nicki. something he didn't wish to give up on. because that is lestat. one to never give up. to make it through whatever struggles life throws cruelly at him and come out of it alive. he had done everything he could think of to fight for him and louis, to the point of fighting him, even. then to give him up to armand... what might have been looked at as giving up, it was more to do what was best for the love of his life. to let him be with someone who could perhaps be better for him. even if the thought makes him choke with laughter deep down.

he stares down to him. eyes shining in the warm glow of the lamps. expression blank save for the sorrow there he holds within those blue eyes. how strange for these tables to be turned on them. for was it not him down there with louis in that church, hoping to convince him to be with him — to choose him and stay with him — as louis is now doing with him? it's a simple enough thing to answer. yes. he wants louis. he has always wanted louis by his side, in his eternal life here on this earth. yet everything he says is a sort of mirror to him and it is difficult not to feel some sense of how surreal it is for the shoe to metaphorically be on the other foot now.

how can i say no to you? something he still cannot do. could not back then, could not with armand cannot now, here on his knees. he swallows. takes a moment. then reaches out to cradle the side of his dear louis' face with a hand, strands of blond falling gently against his shoulder. )

I already let you go... ( with armand. ) I do not think I could do so again.

[ Slowly and quietly Louis undoes Lestat's leather pants. It takes a man of considerable skill and practice to know how to peel the perfect form out from the tightest confines imaginable. While Louis might not run around flying his rainbow flags, he did spend far too many nights distracting himself from the distinct apathetic, lukewarm sex life he shared with Armand.

It was never a problem that Louis felt when he was with Lestat. Every one of their dry spells was brought on by his failings, and he knew that now. It was as glaring as each and every sunrise that brought on every new day. It was hard for Louis now to come back to Lestat a man so much more experienced in the world, but it gave him a foot up when undoing leather.

Focused on his actions, and the reason why Louis has fallen to his kneecaps before his beloved currently, knees grinding into the flooring of room, the rug or carpet they press tightly to, he noses against Lestat's stomach. Kisses soft, and of the most gentle nature are released against the marble-like skin, pale and white like the glow of the purest light. Louis can recall the first time he laid his eyes on it, his new eyes. Bright green now gaze at it again and he runs his fingers up and down the soft dick that sits in a bulge between the zipper.

Pulling back the edge of the leather, Louis folds over with great carefulness, the top lines of the pants. He breathes over Lestat's cock, mouth wide, lips curled in as they move against the soft cotton of whatever Lestat wears below. If that he does wear anything. ]

This is why I'm on my knees. Is it not what you might want?

( it's difficult not to slip into this. the way louis caresses pale skin with lips and fingers... a sweetness he has been without for far too long now, yet remembers so vividly how it feels to be touched by his dearest and most beloved. this is all he's ever wanted. moments like these between them. to indulge and be indulged in. to want and be wanted. to love and be loved. things he now knows he cannot force from the other, no matter how much he wants to. no matter how much he wishes he could.

to feel that now through each kiss and every sweep of fingertips... it fills him with such a joy, he worries he might weep.

his own fingers find their way caressing along the slope of louis' neck and he sighs in a way that shows his appreciation for everything the other vampire is doing for him. from the careful way he peels down his pants, to the generous show of eagerness there with his mouth over the tight black boxer-briefs he has on. he caresses the other in turn for such sweetness and looks down to him with a slow tilt of his head the other way. )

You are always what I want, mon cher.

( always has been. always will be. )

[ If Louis hadn't already been folded down upon sweet bended knee then he might have felt his legs go out from under him, weak from the purest words to form around his heart that evening. No matter how many times Lestat de Lioncourt told Louis de Pointe du Lac that he loved him, desired him, and needed only him, it could be a difficult thing to believe for the vampire.

After all, it was Lestat who was always seeking the bed of others. He was the one with needs and distractions that took him from one bed to another. Louis hadn't taken to the habit until he'd long left Lestat's bed, until he too needed to the point of distraction. With Lestat, Louis understood the game that was always afoot. It was always a point to make Lestat shine, to drag forth even the worst kind of attention from Louis' humble mind.

Louis knew he made himself unavailable. Today rested a far greater difference between then and now. They didn't need such games, and yet there was still a tiny bit of trepidation as he caressed his lover. To be told that he, Louis, was the only one that Lestat wanted, what he always wanted, made him give a slight pause and made him feel his heart melt in the same half breath.

Green hues lifted with great care upward, thoughtfully taking in the enormous weight of every syllable. He had to believe it, needed to believe it. This was it for them. Louis knew that it was. This was their chance. ]

Tell me I'll be the only one.

[ No matter if the words would forever be truthful, Louis did not know, maybe he didn't even care but he needed to hear them. His palm drove itself along Lestat's cock, intent on the pleasure he desired to impart on the man he loved. He wasn't going anywhere. Louis needed this, needed Lestat. Sharp teeth grazed the edge of Lestat's hip, while the younger vampire continued to massage Lestat with his palm, eagerly working up Lestat to his full potential. ]

( oh. how forward of monsieur de pointe du lac. it's enough to bark the softest of laughs from his parted lips, fingers stroking along the curve of that neck still. a neck which he has personally fed from such a long time ago and still remembers the sweetness of the other vampire's blood on his tongue. so much of louis he remembers on his tongue.

a tip of his head back, eyes fall shut, the sound which leaves him one that slips into something more wanton what with the way the other vampire there on his knees spoils him with attention. he was already hard before they even moved themselves up here, their passion there in the den enough to excite and awaken him in a way he hasn't for some time now. louis was always good at that. still is, from the looks of it. never mind the feel of it.

he drops his head down. lets his gaze, dark and filled with such desire for him, land on louis there on his knees and he cradles the side of the other's face with that hand. pad of his thumb brushing along louis' lower lip as he watches him. )

Of course you are. How could you not be?

( lestat has... said similar, before. many years ago now while slipping into the bed of another here and there throughout their companionship, but. things are different now. they had been different then, too. yet in this very moment here between the two of them, he means it with every fiber of his being. how can he not when the other looks so beautiful like this? )

You are the only one I have ever wanted for my companion, Louis.

[ It would be terribly too difficult for Louis not to react to that sweet, almost bittersweet soft peal of laughter from Lestat's perfectly plump lips. How many times has that same laughter been aimed in jest at him in the past, and not in a harmonious chord given the boldness of his actions as it is now. Louis' own lips curl up over the fabric they've been deliberating on, seconds before his pink tongue slips free and runs in cat like strokes over that ever hard, ever desired cock Lestat has always owned.

Oh yes, Louis has long fantasized over the dick in front of him. It's a (presumed) uncut piece of prized jewelry on a man like Lestat de Lioncourt. In his most naked fame, what else could it be. Louis certainly worshiped at it time enough to know. He worshiped the entire form he kneels and pleads in front of more times than he knows how to recall, even in their short existence together (at least by mortal standards).

Taking in the careful gestures given by Lestat, Louis wishes to believe every word that is spoken tonight. He hangs on them, like a man in a deadman's noose. There's no room any longer in the strange brokenness that's seemingly shared between them. They've both lost so much, and the only way Louis knows to heal is this way. It's the only way he can live in the memories he needs to survive, in the love he knows that still exists. ]

Then I will be yours, and yours alone as long as you wish me.

[ At first Louis wondered if the words were true when he said them, but his feet brought him back up to face Lestat, cupping his neck, pushing back that pale blond hair. The eyes across from him told him that Louis de Pointe du Lac did indeed mean those words. He would be with Lestat until the day he was no longer wanted or needed. He would stand for the other vampire, with him, protecting him, loving him like this until that singular moment.

Leaning in once more, he sealed their mouths completely together with a brazen kiss. It stole all his sorrows away, and locked them in the past. It locked bitter memories in a drawer and gave him the power of hope so prescribed to mortals that he knew it was in his right as well. Biting his own lip, he pushed the blood, his very own soul into Lestat's mouth. Louis also used a single hand to push at his pants, working and wriggling so that they would slither off toward the floor, combing his hands around Lestat's back and sides in a new and determined motion again as they kissed. ]

( is forever too long to ask?

once upon a time, he had asked the other man to be with him for all eternity. for their love to last as long as time itself — never ending — and to be by each others side throughout whatever good and bad might find them over the years. for a time, he believed it to be true and despite the pain and sorrows that have fallen them both, there is still that stubbornly optimistic part of him— that very same one which refuses to give up, which believes it to be possible. believes that he was meant to find this man with his mouth pressed hot against his own when setting sail across the seas. that they are and always have been, destined for each other.

he feverishly presses into that kiss. holds tight to louis in ways that tell of how he has no intention of letting him go again. the blood which he's gifted on his tongue causing fangs to show themselves. the thrill it sends through him. hungry for both flesh and blood as the other man fumbles with the front of his pants. yes. those absolutely need to go.

sweet mutterings of his love for the other whisper across dark skin in french, a hand caressing the curve of louis' neck while he drags his lips and tongue along the other side. teeth scatter tiny nicks over the other's skin and with each pinprick of blood that bleeds from them, he laps up sweetly with his tongue, only to replace each lick with a kiss. to deny himself the other any longer than he already has is a self-inflicted torture he is not longer sure he can stand, and so he gives into that desire — gives into that hunger for louis with such fervor that he pushes the other vampire back towards the bed with vampiric force and joins him there within the blink of an eye.

he towers over him, locks of blond falling over bare shoulders. a smile so devilishly soft and so very lestat. kissing him. hard and with the same passion from so long ago. he devours every sound that might spill from those lips while pushing his own back into louis. drowning him in both his love and desire for him. )

[ Visions might have muddled through Louis' current thoughts of Lestat begging Louis to tell him that he didn't love him, wouldn't, couldn't love him. Lestat begged Louis to let him go. Louis refused, even on that very night, that last night that they were to have together. The night their masqueraded bodies swirled round and round, Louis lost himself in Lestat's ever abiding love. It was and never would be over between them. It was why the ever recalcitrant and perceptive Claudia failed to offer Louis the true plans of the evening. His love didn't see the double betrayal set up for what it was.

If he had, Louis would have changed it all, because he didn't want Lestat to die. He felt the life drain out of him as it did from his maker, his lover and even friend. That was in their horrid past, but he could still see the briefest moments of his betrayals, and the burned bridges that lead up to them as the milliseconds that lead up to Lestat answering the feverish plea of his kiss.

Suddenly there's an influx of something Louis hasn't felt until now, and Lestat is muttering his name. He can feel the essence of his life dripping with sweet sex along Lestat's tongue, kissed up as it does. Ridding them both of their clothing with the rending of cloth, pieces of what was are no longer, and will be bought again later.

Finding himself back against the bed, Louis thrusts his fingers up into the never-ending perfectly coiffed curls of Lestat's hair. They never see to fall apart, or be anything less than glorious, reminding him slightly of how Claudia's were always the same. Moaning the syllables and vowels that name up Lestat's name, Louis swallows down the man he's loved for as long as he's known, even when they've said the most bitter of things.

Slicing his wrist open, Louis smears it over Lestat's collarbone and begins to suck and lick over the long line of blood. It doesn't matter exactly whose blood it is. It's only that Louis enjoys the taste of it as they do this with one another. He knows that they will be covered by the time they are finished, and is secure in this knowledge like one is secure in the knowledge a blanket is warm. ]

( it's been far too long since he's tasted louis on his tongue. since lips have trailed over beautiful flesh. mouth draped in red from the sweetness of the other's blood. exquisite. that's what louis is in this moment. what he's always been to him despite his flaws. despite their numerous arguments and petty games they willfully indulged in with each other. there has been and never will be anyone else who can make him feel like this.

fangs grow sharp — fingers gripping tight to that sliced wrist, and he presses his mouth to that open wound in a way that could be seen as lovingly while he drinks his lover's blood from the cut. slow. sensual. locks of blond falling in front of his face as he feeds. he doesn't need it. not really, anyways, but. he wants it. wants to taste louis in every way that he possibly can again and so he drinks. pad of his thumb brushing over the heel of the other's palm as he does. until he finally pulls away. eyes blown in their darkness and desire and blood dripping wet from shining lips, spilling onto the vampire beneath him.

there's a slowness about him as he lets himself look down to louis then. a slowness that remains even when a smile catches at the corners of his red lips, and he leans in just as slow. dripping blood as he goes. before he kisses louis, still slow, as he holds to that bleeding wrist he'd fed from moments ago. )

You enjoy to make a mess out of me, mon cher.

( words he murmurs against now bloody lips, wearing that soft but playful smile on his lips. for it's the first time in an extremely long time, that he feels like the old him again. )

[ No cat has ever gone mad from a few simple licks at its mother's teat. Yet here was Louis, dragging what amounted to a three inch long muscle covered in a carpet of tastebuds across his lover's collar feeling like he's in the business of lunacy and it wasn't even Lestat's blood. Letting his teeth take on the collar he so deftly covered, Louis edged himself ever closer to an artery he knew right below the surface.

Funny how becoming a vampire taught a man a minor layout of the circulatory system. It didn't really tell him the names of all the arteries or veins, but Louis knew that if he moved a few inches below Lestat's collarbone, there's be one hell of an artery, full of oxygen rich blood, waiting for him to prick and take his fill if he so wished, and like all the angels singing their seraphim songs up there in heaven did he fucking wish. Long lashes of his tongue cleaned up his own blood until he'd made a small enough gash below Lestat's collarbone in his subclavian artery and latched on.

Blood trickled down from his lips as he supped carefully, with the reverence given to the god that ruled over his life for so many years. Lestat was not only his lover, he was the man he worshiped and would give his all for. It was only then that he noticed the pulse on his wrist, and the grit of teeth as more blood trickled down his wrist. Taking his free hand he abused it in blood, covering it in the wickedly, blessed substance and smeared it along Lestat's body.

Fingers stroked low and drew pretty circles around the head of Lestat's cock, reddening it with a crimson made of their mixed blood. Louis wanted to laugh, to give into this high that the rich, rich blood he drank gave him. There was something slightly unique about it now. It was a little different now, more powerful perhaps? Closing his eyes, he pulled away and lapped with a gentle kiss over the spot. ]

Oh my beautiful lover. You look so much better like this. I think that you are meant to be covered from head to toe. I mean look at me? Am I just as fashionable, you think?

( this isn't about playing with ones food. many a times has the older vampire done such a thing over the years when in a particular mood or vexed for reasons that are sometimes a little dramatic in their nature, but. this is purely self-indulgence in the sweetness that is louis de pointe du lac. a sweetness which he has been denied for so many years now that to simply have this man and his blood on his tongue once again... intoxicating barely scrapes the surface of what all of this — and he — is to him.

lips drip with blood as they brush over the other vampire's. smearing them in a dark shade of red between kisses and tongue. a feast of blood and sex to come which he can barely contain himself for and he doesn't help with the way louis teases his aching cock as he does. his impatience shows in the way he pepper's louis' neck in nips and kisses, leaving bloody little marks in his wake from stained lips, trailing his way down across his lover's shoulder and collarbone. )

You are as beautiful now as you were then. Captivating in ways no other is.

( words he murmurs over louis' chest, glancing up to him through blond curls there in front of his face. )

Have you missed this, Louis? Have you missed the feel of my mouth on your skin?

( even as he asks, he makes his way down the other's chest, laying kiss after kiss, bite after bite, against skin as he goes. reaching down, fingers curl around his lover's cock and he gives him a generous squeeze before a few lazy strokes. )

Missed the way it feels to be full of me between your lovely legs?

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