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Lestat returned to his and Louis’ apartment after a long walk. He had felt the need to clear his head and decompress, before continuing to type away at his account of the rise and fall of their Queen of the Damned. Recounting Akasha often left Lestat feeling emotionally suppressed and desperate for consolation. Typically he would have just seeked out his lover’s comfort as means of solace, but Louis had been out hunting at the time, so he opted for exercising instead as a temporary distraction.
“Louis, darling?” He called out as he walked into the foyer of their apartment, hoping that his lover had already returned from his feeding. He frowned when he did not receive a response. He missed his sweetheart dearly, craving the tenderness of his hold and the hunny dripping melody of his southern accent.
He sighed in disappointment, before removing his black, leather, dress shoes and setting them upon the shoe rack. He walked further into the apartment, planning on going into his office to continue writing, only to be confused when he heard a heartbeat coming from his and Louis’ bedroom. He entered the bedroom to investigate the noise, only to find his lover curled up in bed.
“Ah Louis,” Lestat exclaimed with a slightly confused expression. “Mon cher, I called out to you upon my entrance. Did you not hear me? Or do you simply not wish to be around me currently?”
Louis lifted his head from his silk pillow, gazing up at his partner with a disoriented countenance. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m not feeling very well right now, and I didn’t hear you call,” he replied apologetically.
Once Lestat had gotten a good look at Louis, he thought his lover truly did look ill. Louis was curled up in the fetal position with his arms wrapped tightly around his belly. His eyebrows seemed to be tinged with discomfort and his nosed was scrunched in a way that Lestat could not deny, was absolutely adorable despite his love’s discomfort.
He sighed thoughtfully and sat at the edge of the bed, facing Louis. He threaded his fingers through his partner’s charcoal hair. “Did you drink some bad blood, mon cœur?” He asked sympathetically.
Louis shook his head, an uncomfortable frown plaguing his face. “Not exactly,” he trailed off, seemingly ashamed.
Lestat tilted his head in confusion. “But it is your stomach that’s bothering you… right?” He questioned.
Louis sighed deeply, letting go of the embarrassment that was coiling in his chest, before nodding. “I was frustrated and upset when I went out hunting, and I ended up taking those malevolent emotions out on my victims.” He felt himself flush with embarrassment when Lestat had a visceral reaction of shock at the fact he had killed multiple people. “Anyways,” he mumbled. “I overindulged and now I’m feeling bloated and uncomfortable.”
Lestat’s lips twisted into a sympathetic frown. It made his sad to see his poor sweet baby feeling so unwell. “Awww, poor love,” he cooed, moving a hand to gently rub his lover’s swollen abdomen. “Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?”
Louis thought for a moment, before nodding. “There is actually. Could you-“ He cut himself off, feeling too shy over his embarrassing request.
“Sweetheart,” Lestat began while taking Louis’ face into his hands. “Please ask of me whatever you need. You know I will not judge you,” he said while gently thumbing Louis’ soft cheeks.
“Can you d-drink from me?” Louis asked hesitantly. “I need some of this blood out of my body, I drank far too much.”
Lestat’s face melted into a sly smile. “You want me to drink from you?” He asked with a giggle. He crawled on top of his lover and gave his belly a playful grope. “I would absolutely love to taste you,” he hissed seductively while flashing a fang.
Louis huffed impatiently and sat up, pushing Lestat away. “Lestat, I’m being serious. I’m feeling really uncomfortable and I'm asking you to help me- not mock me.” He began getting out of bed, ready to storm off to another room and leave Lestat to stew in his decision.
Lestat grabbed Louis’ arm. “Wait! I’m sorry, cherie. I wasn’t trying to mock you, I just got excited at the idea of drinking your blood.” He pulled Louis back onto the bed and began gently brushing his hair away from his neck. “If you still want me to, I would be happy to relieve you of your discomfort,” he said in a quiet, apologetic voice, looking at his partner with tender, adoring eyes.
Louis shivered with pleasure at his lover’s tenderness. He nodded softly and leaned back against his lover’s body, his back now cradled against one of Lestat’s strong, hard arms. Chills ran down Louis' spine as Lestat lowered a hand to his stomach, caressing it in soothing circles. He dropped his head back giving Lestat full access to his throat.
Lestat leaned over and began peppering his lover’s jugular in gentle kisses, holding him with utter reverence, as if he were a sacred relic lost in the Crusades, only to be rediscovered by him centuries later.
“Do not be shy now, my love,” Louis said in a quiet sultry voice, his syrupy sweet accent driving Lestat’s fangs painful with desire. “Go on, end my discomfort. I will stop you if you begin taking too much.” He then closed his eyes, completely surrendering himself to Lestat’s desire, like a lamb in the jaws of a wolf.
Lestat hissed with desire before sinking his fangs into his beloved’s neck. He moaned with pleasure as Louis’ blood flowed past his lips and engulfed his senses. His mind fogged in bliss, his only awareness being Louis’ heartbeat reeling him in as a siren would a sailor. Louis’ syrupy blood poured into his mouth as the ocean waves do to the drowning sailor. ‘This is the land of milk and hunny,’ he thought to himself, ‘This is Heaven.’ He melted against his lover’s feverishly hot body, feeling as their bodies became one in ecstasy.
Bliss flowed through Louis’ veins like climbing ivy, an invasive species taking over ever inch of Louis’ being, starting from the core of his heart and spreading to the pads of his finger tips. Heat blinded his senses, his heart pounding agonizingly as if it were about to explode from his chest. “S-stat, mon cœur,” he moaned out pleadingly. “Enough.”
Lestat, his mind desolate save for desire of innocent blood and pleasure, did not stop. He simply could not. His beloved’s blood was just too sweet, too innocent, too perfect. He leaned further in to the raging fire of passion in which was Louis’ body, sacrificing himself to the flame’s of hell, in favor of hedonistic pleasure.
“I said enough!” Louis gasped out, pushing Lestat away from him, conjuring a deep guttural moan from the depths of the older vampire. He panted, holding his heaving chest as he recovered from his small death.
Lestat lied splayed out on his back, heaving as he became aware of the newfound heaviness imposed upon his body by his lover’s blood. His body trembled in time with his pounding heartbeats, as if it were a snare drum, pounded forcefully to a booming metronome. He rolled onto his side, his gaze falling upon his beloved. Tears welled up in Lestat’s eyes as he watched Louis struggle to catch his breath after being fed on. Lestat was completely enraptured in his lover’s delicate beauty, his gaze harbored upon Louis as if he were a most sublime angel in which he feared would fade away into his imagination if he even dared to blink.
“Lou Lou,” he cooed in an out of breath voice, while opening his arms for his lover to cuddle into. As Louis slid back to him, leaning his back against Lestat’s chest, he dropped his hands onto his lover’s soft stomach, gently rubbing soothing circles against the plush skin. “Are you feeling a little bit better now, baby?” He leaned over and planted a tender kiss against Louis’ soft cheek.
Louis let out a small hum of relief. “Certainly, if not slightly light headed.” He tilted his head back to gaze at his maker. “Thank you, love,” he said before pressing a small kiss to Lestat’s jaw.
“The pleasure is all mine, beloved. It is always a privilege and honor to drink from you,” Lestat said adoringly. “Though I do apologize for having took so much from you. I must admit that I had not fed in quite a while, which made it quite trialing to not covet more than offered,” he explained with a slight bashfulness.
“Ah, yes. That is right,” Louis acknowledged thoughtfully, talking more to himself than to Lestat. He moved from Lestat’s lap, stretching his back before lying down across from him in bed. He rested upon his elbow while closely studying his lover’s renewed features. “This new body, begotten to you by the fount herself, does not hunger does it?”
“Non, at least not in the same manner yours does. If I do not feed for a few days,” Lestat paused thoughtfully. “It is not exactly hunger that I feel. Akasha’s divine blood keeps my body in near constant statice of satiation. I still yearn to kill, of course, but that is not what I am speaking of now.” He sighed, staring at an unknown object with contemplation, before turning his gaze back to Louis.
“Like any other vampire, my body becomes frigid and solid after a few days of not feeding. Although unlike it would to a young one, or even yourself perhaps, it does not physically disturb me to any degree farther than to the point of minor discomfort at times. Though it does still hold deep emotional ramifications.
“Depriving myself of blood- contrary to how it used to make you feel- leaves me feeling more a monster than ever. It leaves me feeling physically detached from humanity, as if my being had more in common with the gargoyle statues on Notre Dame, than it did with a young mortal man,” he explained before letting out a self deprecative sigh. “It is not as though feeding changes this notion much either.
“Even if I gorge myself, feeling swollen to the point of agony with blood, my figure still remains,” Lestat paused for a moment, searching for a word to use, before settling upon, “less than.”
Louis hummed softly, breathing in his lover’s confession. “Less than what exactly?” He questioned.
“Less than…” Lestat trailed off thoughtfully. “Less than worthy of love? Less than man? Less than…. a body should be,” he attempted to explain. “My body will aways remain throughout eternity as a perfect staple of a life of starvation and poverty. My ribs will always remain prominent, as if my skin is nothing more than a sheer drape of lace laid over the bones. My being will never, no matter how much I feed, look truly fulfilled,” he mused, dropping his hand down to rub the length of a rib, through his ivory, silk shirt. “My body will always showcase the sorrows of that young boy, rotting away in the freezing mountains, utterly starved for more than just sustenance. Starved for love, starved for friendship, starved for hope. Everything.”
Louis nodded softly, listening to every word is lover confessed. He lifted his arm, taking Lestat’s face into his hand and forcing the other to look at him. “Maybe that is true. Maybe your body will forever bear your former agonies, as a crown bears jewels,” he paused momentarily, looking away thoughtfully. “But what does that truly mean for creatures such as ourselves?”
“What do you mean by that?” Lestat asked as he moved further into his lover’s embrace.
Louis opened his arms to accommodate for Lestat. “I mean, darling, to what extent do physical forms truly matter for the undead? Our bodies cannot eat, cannot breed, cannot change. They are mere vessels for our immortal souls. The thought is not too unlike the old Catholic belief of your soul being intended for eternal life in heaven, while your body is merely the keeper of your soul during your life,” he mused while absent-mindedly threading his fingers through his lover’s curls.
Lestat let out a frustrated sigh. “Louis, I do not know how you can honestly expect this talk of Deities and death to provide me any solace.”
Louis shook his head. “You misunderstand me, love. What I’m trying to say is, how much do our bodies really effect us? Sure they desire blood and abhor the heat of the sun, but other than that, they serve no purpose other than aesthetic.” He shrugged before gazing tenderly into his beloveds eyes. “I think you are placing too much emphasis upon certain aspects of your body, dear. I cannot find any fault in how you look.”
Lestat shook his head in disbelief. “You only say such kind words because you love me. You only wish to make me feel better,” he argued quietly, while leaning his head back against Louis’ chest and pouting.
“Not necessarily,” Louis replied, planting a gentle kiss upon Lestat’s crown. “You have always been utterly beautiful in my eyes. I think that is one of the main reasons I accepted your dark gift. I was in complete and utter lust with your being. I was completely enthralled by your looks, and I never wanted to imagine not being able to look upon your grace,” he confessed.
“I know you think your body is ‘less than,’ and maybe that truly means something. But I also know that I often feel as though my body is ‘more than,’ and you never fail to banish those self deprecative thoughts from my mind. I think we tend to be too critical of ourselves, and if we were to offer ourselves as much grace and love as we offer each other, eternity would be far less trialing.”
He lifted Lestat’s head so they made eye contact, now staring tenaciously into his lover’s teary eyes. “Even if your body still bears the proof of the abuses that that poor boy faced so many centuries ago, you are not him anymore. You are not starved, you are not alone, and you are not unloved. As long as my eternity lasts, I will never allow any of those things to be true again. For forever and a day, I will be with you, loving you, no matter the circumstances,” Louis proclaimed fervently, before looking away, his own eyes gathering tears.”Maybe it works better that way, maybe ‘too much’ and ‘too little’ together equate to perfection.”
Lestat could not bring himself to respond with anything more than a hopeful nod. And Louis did not need anymore from him. His small singular gesture proved the utter truth in Louis’ vows.
For forever and a day, Lestat’s being would finally be fulfilled.