Lost Companion
Addie: September, 1999
 
 

Disclaimers: Not my characters. Unfortunately they belong to the Queen herself, Anne Rice

Spoilers: Interview with the Vampire, when Armand and Louis finally parted company. I did add a little adventure though in the Louvre, hope you like it.
 
 

Armand:-
 
 

Even though the night was warm, I was shivering inside, my thoughts were in turmoil. I needed him so much, wanted him by my side, but he no longer needed me. I wondered if he had ever needed me. Would he have gone with who-ever happened to be there at the time. I walked away from him, not turning back, not wanting to look into his beautiful face ever again.
 
 

I walked down along the river, it was like a black snake coiled and ready to strike me down. If I had been mortal I would have flung myself into its depths, drowned in its murkiness, wallowed in my pity for myself. I could not die in its cool silky waters. I wished that I could.
 
 

The moon was weak and barely shed any light on the world. Everything seemed blurred; was it merely my vision scarred by my tears, or was the world becoming dull and uninviting. I had loved them both, and they both rejected me. Maker and fledgling, so intoxicating in their wonder of the world, now made bland in their sorrow.
 
 

I kept walking , past the dark buildings and alley ways, through a flower bed full of roses. I was not aware of their beauty, was not aware of anyone else around me. My soul was bruised and battered. I was alone in my despair, nobody cared, nobody knew what was going on in the dark recesses of my mind.
 
 

I sat by a pond, letting the cool water caress my hands, watching my sad reflection in its ripples distort my features. A cool breeze was blowing through my hair, flicking it across my face and tickling my cheeks. I thought I could see him standing behind me, his face full of sorrow and pain as it was so often. His black hair hiding his delicate and human features. Was there a whisper of understanding in those eyes that had always reminded me of the sun glinting through the leaves of an evergreen tree.
 
 

I remembered the first time I told him that I loved him, as he had gazed at me in awe and wonder. Did he realise then how much I had been in awe of him. Overwhelmed by his zest for life, his humanity, his beauty. He was Lestat's gift to me, his most precious possession, that not even he in his glory and power could hope to hold onto for ever. The elegance of him slipped through his fingers, disappeared from his life as surely as he has now disappeared from mine.
 
 

When we wandered through the Louvre that night after he had ignited the Theatre, destroyed nearly everyone who had a hand in the destruction of his child; I hoped we would be together for eternity. But eternity is a long time when you are in despair. He knew that I was responsible, yet he stayed by my side. We held hands as we gazed at the paintings and sculptures, revelled in their exquisiteness, lost ourselves in a world of colour and texture. Most of the time as he was lost in the art, I was lost in him, the way he tipped his head slightly to one side when he was concentrating on something, or raised his hand to his fine hair and raked it back from his perfect forehead. All I wanted to do was to be close to him, feel his slender body near to mine, hear his gentle voice as he made comments on a particular picture, enjoy the touch of his hand.
 
 

I took him in my arms that night and kissed him on lips that were luscious and warm from a recent kill. He seemed surprised at first, but did not pull away. I guided him over to a sumptuous couch that languished in a dark corner and pushed him down onto his back. His eyes bored into mine, his thoughts were confused, but I detected a glimmer of desire in them and I kissed him again, passionately and deeply. He moaned at my touch, and I slowly began to undress him. My hands were trembling so hard that I found it difficult to undo the intricate fastenings on his jacket. He smiled a little at my clumsiness, aware for the first time of my infallibility. Not so perfect now, more the bumbling adolescent that I seemed to appear.
 
 

He pulled his jacket off, then his long white fingers began to coax me out of my garments. I shuddered when my bare flesh came into contact with his, our bodies so hard and cold on the outside, but inside they were a smouldering inferno. I nipped at his bottom lip, causing him to grimace slightly, but the taste of his delicate blood sent shivers through me. I sucked for a few seconds, then licked at the small wound to heal it. He ran his own tongue across my fangs and allowed his blood to flow into me again. I stiffened and groaned deeply.
 
 

His blood was hot sweet and succulent, just like I imagined it would be. As we kissed I allowed my blood then to intermingle with his and he closed his eyes tightly and began to squirm under my insistent touch. As I ran my fingers slowly down his back, feeling every bump of his spine, he pushed his hair out of the way and offered his long neck to me. The vein was bulging and throbbing, almost as though it was subconsciously readying itself for my onslaught. As I bit into him, crying out when the first molten flow of his blood hit the back of my throat, he did the same to me. His mouth was soft but strong as he sucked languorously.
 
 

I could see him as a young mortal riding his chestnut mare across the plantation, a smile on his face, the sun shining in his eyes. Then he was strolling the boulevard with a wild eyed vampire, his maker, his hair so golden that it appeared as though it was spun from the sun's golden rays. Then his hand was in hers, the little one, his daughter, his lover. They were happy, delirious in each other's company. Suddenly I felt his body stiffen as his thoughts turned into darkness. she was gone, along with his vigour and passion. There was a glimmer there however, a soft diffused light still within his soul which I hoped I could coax to the surface. If only he would let me.
 
 

I felt his fangs withdraw from my neck and I let go as well, holding his face in my hands. He was sobbing, tears of sorrow, washing away his being, his life. She was gone, and somehow she had taken a large part of him when she went. Was it gone forever? I hoped not. I hoped that with my love and companionship he would regain his fervour for life.
 
 

This was to be the only time we shared the blood. Many times I was able to caress his bare skin, kiss his tender mouth, hold him in my arms, but we were never joined intimately again. I was never able to taste the wonderment of him, never able to become one with him. In all our travels I followed wherever he led, did his bidding, was there to catch him when he fell. But in all this time he never really loved me.
 
 

I would walk by his side, but sometimes he was not even aware that I was there. His thoughts would be drifting, so easy to read, but so jumbled, no cohesion, no desire lingered there. It was as if he were dead, as dead as his lost love. Occasionally he would talk of Lestat, but never her. He never even mentioned her name. But she was always there, between us, holding us apart whenever I tried to come to close.
 
 

The last few months he has become worse. I would try to talk to him but he never even heard my voice. His eyes would glaze over and he would stare at some painting, or read one page of a book over and over. I would leave for days and he would never even notice. I wondered where he really was. Perhaps he should have gone into the sun with her, it would have enabled his spirit to be released to finally soar above his bleak and desolate world.
 
 

I did turn around then, and he was still standing in the same spot, staring after me, but I was too far away to see the expression on his face. I knew it would have been the same as usual, lost and faraway. Well I was faraway now, and I am just as lost as he is.
 
 

Part 2.
 
 

Louis:-
 
 

The steps were steep and dark and he held my hand as we ventured down into the tomb. I could feel the roughness of the walls with my other hand, as he guided me downwards. I was not afraid, but a little apprehensive, even excited, wondering what we would find. I hoped that this one had not been looted like the one before. We came to a heavy door made of some ancient metal, with a knocker in what looked like solid gold, with strange markings and hieroglyphs all over it. It seemed untouched unbroken. I could see Armand's dark eyes gleaming in the gloom.
 
 

"This one appears to be intact, perhaps there will be treasure inside." he whispered. His face was so close to mine and I could feel his soft hair against my cheek. He squeezed my hand tightly and turned to face the door.
 
 

Together we pushed and the heavy door budged slightly. I could smell it now, the musty rank odour of decay, and I tasted the sour dust in my mouth. One more push and our combined strength had it open just enough for us to enter. Armand picked up an old torch and lit it with the strength of his mind. I still marvelled at his amazing powers, even after travelling with him for so many years. He always had something else up his sleeve.
 
 

The soft light flickered and cast eerie shadows throughout the tomb, allowing us to see treasures beyond our wild imaginings. There was an immense golden sarcophagus right in the centre of the tomb and it was to this that we gravitated.
 
 

"We've found him, the third king of the tenth dynasty Armand, the young one who was only 16 when he died." my hands were shaking as I let them wander slowly across its surface, revelling in the silky smoothness of the gold. The hands that had beaten this gold into the likeness of the young king were wondrous indeed.
 
 

"Can you read the hieroglyphs Louis?" he asked me, obviously in awe as well.
 
 

"No." I replied sadly, "But this has to be his tomb. It is exactly where the old man told us it would be." He grabbed my hand then and brought it up to his lips kissing my knuckles then placing it back down onto the sarcophagus. "Louis, don't you think we should leave him in peace.?"
 
 

"Oui we should, he has lain here for centuries. He is older than you are Armand. I just want one small souvenir to remember this by." and with that I picked up a vase and held it up to the light. Its whole surface was covered in intricate figures depicting the ancient Egyptian life and I put it into the small hessian bag that I had folded underneath my jacket. Just to have been here in this place, to have experienced the feel of it was enough for me.
 
 

Armand reached down and picked up a couple of coins that were tucked away in a jar beside the sarcophagus. "Let's leave Louis, I would hate it if anyone desecrated our coffins. Come." he said softly and taking my hand in his again we exited the tomb. I glanced back one more time at the beauty held within, then we closed the heavy doors behind us.
 
 

We walked through the starlit night our thoughts still in the tomb with the young king, our hearts a flutter at the thought of our secret discovery. We were happy that night, happy and at ease with each other. The moon glinted on his auburn hair and he wore a gentle smile on his face that was rarely there at other times. Our little find was important to us. We could not share it with anyone but ourselves, but it would always be in our memories and I clutched at the small vase and felt again the ornate carvings.
 
 

We entered the hotel room where we had been staying and I laid down on the bed. For this short time I had not thought of my lost child but of the one who was lying in his coffin, embalmed and surrounded by his worldly possessions. There were times when I craved that kind of peace, just to forget all my miseries and to drift into nothingness.
 
 

Armand moved over to join me on the bed and we caressed gently. He never tried to force me into any more than the occasional chaste kiss or brotherly caress, but tonight I was feeling like more.

I moved my face around to his and kissed him on the lips. He pulled back momentarily, making sure that I really wanted this then kissed me back, passionately and deeply, his eager tongue darting in and out.
 
 

He had me moaning with desire after a few breathless minutes and I felt him begin to unbutton my shirt. He was moving slowly, looking me in the eyes as he did so, whispering my name and allowing his tongue to glide over my lips, then my cheeks, then my earlobes. He nipped at my ear and pierced it slightly, sucking eagerly on the small droplets of blood.

I turned my face to his again and began to devour his mouth. The passion in me was bubbling to the surface, the desire was about to explode and shatter me into tiny pieces. So long had I held these feelings in, so long had I needed to feel his body next to mine. Our shared discovery seemed to open up these feelings in me, helped me to forget my shameful past.
 
 

His small hands were caressing my chest now, as he pushed my shirt open, and bent down to kiss my nipple, then he sucked hard, causing me to shudder violently. He trailed his tongue across my chest to the other nipple and proceeded to continue his ministrations. He continued lower still and kissed and sucked at my belly then began to unbutton my trousers, one button at a time with his teeth. As he dragged them down from my hips and over my thighs I could feel his hair tickling my organ. I closed my eyes savouring every sensation, surprising myself with my need, and when he slithered back up to my lips again I realised that he too was naked. His discarded clothes had been flung onto the floor in haste and he was slithering up and down against me. The feel of his smooth skin rubbing sensuously against mine had me moaning loudly now, and he smiled at my obvious pleasure.
 
 

He moved off my body to lay next to me, but his hands continued their exploration of my body, seeking every dip, every crevice, and he played in the hairs around my balls, then cupped them gently in his hands massaging them, rolling them around and around. His eyes were closed and he was moaning now as well. He stopped for a couple of seconds and I sighed heavily opening my eyes to see what he was up to. He was rubbing his own organ, and I laid my hand on it as well, letting him know that I was willing to do this for him. He shook his head, and pushed my hand away. Curious I watched him continue and when a small amount of semen flowed out he covered his fingers in it, then pushing my legs apart he proceeded to place his now moist fingers inside of me.
 
 

He smiled again as I laid back and closed my eyes, the feeling of his fingers massaging me internally was completely overwhelming. He probed deeply and I arched my back enabling him to move further into me. He removed his fingers then and bent down to kiss me again, this time raking his tongue over my fangs and letting a small amount of his blood flow into me. "Are you ready for me my love?" he whispered, and I sighed and nodded.
 
 

He moved back on top of me and with his knees pushed my legs apart even further. He grabbed hold of my organ and began to rub it up and down, slowly at first then with more vigour. He bent down and licked it's knob, the took it into his moist hot mouth and began to suck and nip it's entire length. I was making very loud cries of ecstasy and I jerked and spasmed as I came in gushing spurts into his mouth. When my orgasm completed its tremendous cycle he moved up to kiss me again, moaning into my mouth and smothering my cries.
 
 

Then he lifted my hips up to his and brought his hands around to caress and massage my buttocks. With his fingers he gathered up my spent semen and wiped it all over his organ before he entered me, slowly at first then gradually moving deeper and deeper until he was completely inside of me. Then he began his rhythm, slow and sure, building in intensity until it was a thundering crescendo. He had prepared me so thoroughly for this onslaught of my body that there was only a modicum of pain, which soon turned to burning pleasure as he finally reached his blistering climax. He brought me along with him and I climaxed again at the same time as he did. Our cries drowning out the thudding of our hearts and our laboured breathing.
 
 

We lay back in each other's arms, spent and exhausted. I turned over on my side, loving the feel of his body touching mine all the way down, and I glanced at the golden vase on the bedside table. I would always remember this night, our discovery of the tomb, then the discovery of each other.
 
 

These nights of love and joy were few and far between, and mostly my deep grief would consume me again, leaving me full of sorrow and self pity. But whenever I pick up my little vase and feel it's smooth surface, bringing it up to my cheek to let it gently caress me, I remember this night. I do believe for some of the time anyway that we were in love. And as we eventually drifted away from each other for the last time I knew that he too would remember this night and the love that passed between us.