Another PWP
© Daeva

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Anne Rice.

Notes: This is an attempt to remain canon while stepping into fanon...or fanon into canon, no canon to fanon... ok, I don't have a clue anymore.

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" 'We did not dare to breathe a prayer- ' "

"Oscar Wilde."

"Louis!"

"What? I know that one by heart."

"It's no fun playing with you. You hardly let me finish. You know every damn quote I can remember and when it's my turn you don't give me enough time to think my answers!"

The vampire companions were on one of their nighttime outings. Tonight they settled for an affable stroll, rather than a movie or a play. They walked along the banks of the Mississippi River, side by side, hands inside the pockets of their jackets for the chilly breeze blew at them relentlessly in sudden gusts. It was a nice feeling. They were alone, yet together. And it was this absolute bliss, that of sharing eternity with someone you love, someone who'd be at your side no matter what, that made it all so utterly painful to withstand.

Such sensitiveness in his soul. It cursed him. Was it too unbearable, the union? Or perhaps the uncertainty of it? It's been only few years since they came to live once again together in the same townhouse they had shared for more than half a century. A number of rather unpleasant events had accounted before it happened, yet it felt like was meant to be, like it couldn't be any other way. Louis belonged to him, and would always return to him, wouldn't he? Just as he would always return to his beloved Louis, longing and aching, because in spite off all opposing, misinterpreted odds, they had obliviously founded their bond on unconditional love. Strange how things turned out right in the end, Lestat thought. After all the threats, the loathing, and unforgivable wounds, Louis eventually came back to him. That was an unforgettable reunion, before the concert. They endured years of suffering, of dwelling in despair, before they'd found each other. Lestat had been incredulous, surmising. What if it were just another one of his dreams? One such dream, that only becomes heartbreaking upon awakening. Only when his fledgling was finally in his arms was he convinced it was but real, and they had experienced a deeper love than what they'd dare admit. To be this happy is to be miserable, he had said to himself, To feel this much satisfaction is to burn. In other words, too good to be true, as they sagely said. Or like Louis would think, it simply couldn't be right for demons, such as they were. But what did he care about right or wrong, really? As far as he was concerned, not a bit. If they too are allowed to feel love and happiness, it certainly wasn't his doing; he is fully exempt from the presumable blunder. He will just let the years pass, and keep on passing, and only hope that each time their relationship strode closer to forever.

Hmm, how nice his fledgling looked. How very nice. Sometimes, it is sound to follow advices. And Marius' had only been too wise, too ethical. Choose your companions with care," he told him long ago, "Choose them because you like to look at them and you like the sound of their voices, and they have profound secrets in them that you wish to know. Choose them because you love them, otherwise you will not be able to bear their company for very long."

And Lestat had understood this. Make them in love, he reasoned. But his mentor hadn't cautioned about the very predicament of foolish actions committed when driven by moments of infatuation. Lestat was turned a fool when he fell in love; had marked Louis for immortality without thinking. It does matter in great degree, that of choosing a companion sensibly. Now and then he'd come upon a potential prospect; the world being a plenteous source of potential prospects; very enticing human candidates all around, each one as intriguing as the next. But he'd wait and consider, ponder on all aspects of the outcome, on virtues as well as flaws; and certainly on consequences before he brought another over to darkness. Just not in Louis' case. He was Lestat's the minute he saw him; to hell with consequences. Yes, there have been ups and downs in their relationship; more than two centuries of them in fact; many long years comprised with memories of revelry as well as tragedy. Yet there they were. Still together. And this was now.

"You suggested the game, Lestat." Louis had said.

"Not one of my better ideas," Lestat muttered. He kicked a rock along the way.

"My honor is my life; both grow in one,"Louis began.

"Shakespeare!" Lestat rejoiced. "Now that I know by heart."

Louis smiled. The little pebbles crunched beneath their feet as they walked. For minutes it was the only sound that accompanied them, that and the mild whistling of the wind.

"To the sick, while there is life there is hope," Lestat quoted after a while. A long while. He was making sure to think of a hard one.

"Cicero," Louis answered easily.

"I'm insane to have suggested this to a bookworm."

" 'When we have lost everything, including hope, life becomes a disgrace and death a duty.'"

"Louis de Pointe du Lac."

"Huh- Huh, très drôle," Louis snubbed. "C'est Voltaire."

"Could've fooled me." Lestat chuckled. He bent down to pick a smooth stone, then threw it at the river. The skipping rock went halfway past the wide river, before it submerged into the water. He bent to pick another one and threw it, this one advancing farther than the first. Louis watched amusedly. He liked how the rocks remained over the water, resisting those physical forces of nature. Like his maker, who so accepts his godsend gift, who has managed to consolidate with his vampire nature, hindering qualms, if any, anent killing.

The rocks bounced, unwilling to be sucked into the water. They seemed to equal Lestat's strength, the obstinacy of his soul. He said depression drove him those times when he buried himself underground. Louis saw to it as a defense. Defense from all the chaos that surrounded him. The morbidity of loneliness and the impotence to change it. If Louis hadn't been so aloof with everything, he might have gone underground sooner. But unlike his maker, he prevailed, inspired, reinforced with the hope of seeing him again. That he'd lost his will to go on. Louis never believed it. His maker, himself, never really believed it. In truth, Lestat sought a challenge, something to spark him once more. Louis can't help but shudder whenever his maker is struck by another of his inquisitive moods. Getting involved in jeopardizing exploits just to see what will happen seemed pretty irrational to him. But to Lestat it always meant possibility, and nothing will ever make him see otherwise. Lestat was a devil, a misfit, a thing that couldn't keep away from trouble. Eccentric, yet pompously charming. He was always stimulated, so full of life. Louis loved and admired him, above all else.

There was a pleasant alleviation in the tranquility, the moonlight giving a quiet briskness to the night. Louis was comforted, strange as it was, with the nearby presence of his maker. It is in times like these, happy times with Lestat, that he feels blessed. He saw Lestat seemed to be quite entertained. Would he try it? As a mortal boy he wasn't very good. One bounce he could manage. Two at times, on his very best try. Better not, lest he make a fool of himself. Still... it certainly looked like fun. Louis bent to pick up a rock. A sudden current of wind caught him unawares. His scarf wafted compellingly, until it freed and drifted from his neck.

"Merde," Louis fretted. He hurried after it. The scarf floated higher and higher and, to his dismay, tangled itself on the dried branches of a leafless tree. The tree had rooted on a cliffy edge, and most of its thin branches hovered over the river. Louis pondered, a little reluctant to climb. The tree was a little too high for his liking. He made the first attempt, placing his boot on a seemingly firm branch. It snapped with the simplest pressure. He stepped back, jittered, from the tree. His lack of confidence never allowed him to fully test his vampiric abilities and powers, but he couldn't mind less.

"Lestat!" he called. Lestat was distracted, cleaning the bank rock-free; he had his goal set on bouncing the rocks across the river, till they landed dry on the other side. "Lestat!" Louis called harder. Lestat's ears heard the cry. The rock slipped from his hand, it hit the ground a millimeter before his boots. He turned Louis' way, yet saw he was alright.

"Yes, Louis? What is it?" he asked. Louis pointed to his scarf.

"Could you please?"

"Of course," Lestat answered. He went to the tree and started climbing. The tree hardly creaked under his weight, due to his sly movements, which hardly made any pressure. "Such a fuss over a scarf," he grumbled.

"It's a gift from Armand," Louis explained. Lestat made an abrupt arrest.

"A gift from...?!" he asked, sounding offended "Nothing doing!" He started climbing down.

"Lestat, come on! You're doing it for me."

Lestat lingered, poised on a branch that originated from the trunk of the tree. He folded his arms. "Sorry, Louis, you want it, you come get it."

Louis sighed resignedly. He gathered some courage. He started climbing, at first his feet dangling awkwardly in some places. He didn't want to glance at Lestat, for he knew the fiend was thoroughly enjoying the display. Louis had reached Lestat's spot.

"Move over!" he told him indignantly, pushing him. Lestat moved only too obliged, unblocking the way with a huge grin. He propped his head on his elbow, the elbow resting on a branch. He seemed to have no trouble to accommodate homely on the tree, the better to enhance his viewing purposes.

Louis' movements soon became innately nimble, his body stable as he propelled himself on the tree. The very conduct felt so unnatural, so bizarre it unnerved him. The vampire powers always disheartened him, for they reminded him how far from human he really was.

As the branches became thinner and frailer, Louis leaned to embrace them, sliding over them like a snake. He heard a snap. His eyes widened, and he looked back at Lestat.

"Don't you try anything, Lestat."

Lestat remained watching. "I'm not, Louis." Louis wasn't relieved by the answer. "Just leave the damn thing there," Lestat advised. "Now that I look at it, it's hideous."

Louis was trying his best to avoid looking down. He looked straight at the scarf. He was a little too far back to reach it with an outstretched hand. He advanced some more. There was a loud crack, the branch bent suddenly. Louis slipped from the branch and grasped it hard on the last minute. Lestat flew speedily to offer him a hand. Louis hung for half a second before the branch gave in and he started to fall. Lestat gaped.

"Louis, quick! Think a happy thought!" he cried. Louis plunged deep into the river, nape and shoulder-blades first, in a mighty splash. He broke to surface with a blaring gasp, the water was freezing. Lestat's sides were hurting, he was crying, caught in an uncontrollable laughing fit.

"Lestat! You damnable bastard!" Louis swore. Lestat had to cling to the tree in order to continue laughing.

"I didn't do anything!" he said sincerely, yet continued to guffaw. Louis found it hard to believe. His lips quivered, he started swimming towards the bank. Lestat pulled him out of the water. Louis grabbed his ebony hair and twisted it until no water dripped from it.

"It's still your fault," he admonished. "I wouldn't have fallen if you'd just gone get it." He removed his jacket, his garments were drenched. "God, I'm freezing." His body was cold as ice, caught in tremors.

Lestat removed his suede jacket and put it over Louis. "We should get you dry then. Come on."

"My scarf. It's still up there," Louis reminded him.

"So it is." Lestat returned, indifferent. Louis rolled his eyes.

"I'd be grateful if you get it," he said. Lestat raised a brow. Louis wouldn't have a clue that his words could be taken in some unlikely ambiguous implication. Lewd thoughts had begun crossing Lestat's mind. Louis was showing him his gratitude in ways his decorously coy fledgling would most likely never conceive. Lestat was mad. He hated that Louis had unknowingly tempted him with his wickedly sweet tongue. Curse him!

"Very well, then," Lestat breathed the words. You've always known, Beautiful One, haven't you? You render me powerless. "Kiss me, and you have your scarf." Louis was for a moment perplexed. He smiled and followed to press his lips chastely over Lestat's. "Hmm, well, I suppose I couldn't expect better in return for such a worthless scarf." Warmth had flooded Louis' face as the blood pumped to his cheeks He stood there, numb; had forgotten to tremble as he watched Lestat going up the tree faster than a mountain cat. A chill wind broke his seeming trance. He held the jacket closer around himself, then rubbed his arms roughly, trying to create heat with the friction as he waited. Lestat grasped the scarf and then jumped, landing next to Louis with a dull thud.

"Uh, merci," Louis said, not looking at Lestat's eyes as he tucked the scarf inside the jacket, still chagrinned with Lestat's critical comment about his kiss. Lestat took Louis roughly by the waist, drawing him close in a firm tug, their bodies fastened at the hips. Louis blinked, tensing, his face and eyes turning back as Lestat's other hand slipped down to grab his backside. They were on the air before Louis could utter any protest. Louis had wrapped his arms automatically around Lestat's neck, driven by the hastiness of his movements. He then found the warmth in Lestat's body welcoming, so he meant not to pull away. Lestat smiled, looking down onto Louis. Louis eyes were shut tight against the wind. Lestat deliberately loosened his hold. His fledgling's immediate response was to tighten his arms around him, drawing their bodies nearer.

"Are you mad?" Louis asked hotly, shock in his features. Delicious indignation. Lestat expected nothing else. He was elated. Poor Louis, all wet, and almost frozen now that the air was biting at them, and still he wouldn't let a chance pass to berate him.

"Forgive me, Louis, for a moment I forgot about you." Ah! That had to win, hands down, for the utmost lie of the year. Louis's discomfiture was quite apparent, nonetheless. Leave it only to his vanity-lacking fledgling to actually believe it. The trip back was nothing short of miserable for Louis, and once he set foot on ground, he hurried to the bathroom to set the hot water running.

Lestat, on the other hand, had arrived undisturbed. He went placidly into the study. The computer screen said he had new messages in his inbox. One of them was from David. He started to read David's news first and then followed to send him his regards.

Louis was taking a hot bath in the meantime. He lingered in the soothing warmth for several minutes until he finally rose and dried himself with a towel. Then he dressed in black wool pants and gray cashmere shirt. Lestat entered Louis' room. He smiled at the sight of his composed fledgling.

"You feel better now?" he asked. Louis nodded. He sat on the bed and started putting on socks and shoes. Lestat took the damp towel and dried Louis' hair, then grabbed a brush to smooth it with gentle strokes, until his fingers no longer stuck but slid softly through. Soon the black hair returned to its silky texture. Lestat put the brush away.

"Merci," Louis said. He laid down with a relaxed sigh on the bed. Lestat did the same, lying on the bed next to Louis. They were facing each other. Both indulged; the confidence in the disposition with one another was clearly pronounced. Lestat had always wanted of his companion an equal, as strong and adventurous as he was; someone who isn't at all times at odds with his vampire nature, though he admits it only adds to Louis' charm. Nevertheless, Louis was very conscious of this. More so with the making of David. Perhaps it had been the fear of losing Lestat to David, that Louis was determined to set their relationship to a more intimate level. Lestat had known and had seized him in a desperate and vulnerable moment when he offered him his blood. But time has passed and there hasn't been a mere mention of the incident from Louis' part. Louis was not in the least opposed to let Lestat drink his blood, but would behave dismissively to the act being the other way around. Lestat was pleased to be with his beautiful Louis. There wasn't a mortal or immortal alive who wasn't moved by his fledgling's outstanding visage, or gratified with his serenely compassionate presence. Perhaps Louis wasn't his perfect equal, but he could live with it. Sometimes the frustration would just get the better of him. He wished Louis was more participative, more accessible to hedonic intimacy, something his fledgling found undeserving, and surely adverse to their nature.

Louis smiled, his eyes identical to the color of emeralds, his lips a dark pink, his pale skin smooth. My sublime creation, my perfect demon, Lestat thought. He caressed the side of Louis' face, then traced a finger along his lips; the pressure of a pointy fang on his fingertip. Small fangs, so sharp. Lestat's veins throbbed with longing as he recalled the rapture of Louis sucking the blood from him.

"You know, Louis," he said suddenly, "You wouldn't need to ask me any favors if you were just a little stronger." From the uneasiness of Louis's stare, Lestat could tell he knew what he was saying.

"I am strong enough, Lestat," Louis answered. Lestat kneeled on the bed, irate.

"You cannot even stay up in a damn tree, Louis. Don't tell me you're strong." Louis turned on his other side, giving his back to Lestat.

"It's too soon," he said softly.

"Too soon?" Lestat said, "And just when will it stop being soon, I wonder," he muttered bitterly.

"I don't know," Louis said. "I was only thinking to let time pass to adjust to the changes."

"Louis, there can't be significant changes with just a small infusion. Tell me honestly if you feel you've changed, because I for one cannot tell; except for the apathy."

"I've been nothing but an amiable companionship," Louis remonstrated. "We seldom argue now, can't you tell that?"

"Oh, yes I can. It's been heaven, Louis," Lestat answered sardonically. He dropped back on the bed, his head on the pillow, his arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling. Louis had wanted to evade the true meaning behind Lestat's words, but he was only fooling himself. He knew once he conceded, that there would be no amending, and it was only predictable that he'd face the offering in higher recurrence that when he used to refuse.

"Heaven isn't enough," Louis stated. Lestat didn't accent, but he didn't deny it either.

"A few drops won't hurt you," he said, but even he was unsure of it. Louis had indeed taken a small infusion of his blood, but how the dark magic worked on Louis, was beyond him. Some fledglings can turn out more gifted than others, and others into weaklings that do not manage to survive on their own. Maybe Louis remained the same with the small infusion, or maybe he had gotten more powerful but refused to show it. After all, Louis was claimed the weakest only because he was never known to demonstrate his powers. Plus he'd more likely be caught dead than boasting them. Lestat didn't want to stress Louis into taking his blood. Yes, he wanted him stronger, but more than that, he felt he needed to feel his vampiric blood craved, just like he craved Louis'. He was very much aware how his blood is coveted by many vampires, including the already strong ones like Armand, and mostly those irrelevant others, the wretched power-mad rogues, he mused. The big difference was that the vampire he most wanted to crave it, was perhaps the only one who rejected it.

Louis clasped Lestat's hand, surprising Lestat amidst his reverie. He turned to Louis with questioning eyes. Louis kissed Lestat's hand, and then brushed his lips against his wrist. Lestat sat up in a haste. He rolled his sleeve and lowered it over Louis' mouth. Louis gripped the wrist, bit into it, and began sucking gently. Lestat moaned, closing his eyes. Louis swallowed draught after draught the slowest he could, trying to fight back the urge to bite deeper and suck fervently; the blood was overwhelming. Lestat felt pure pleasure with the constant pull at his veins, with the pumping current of blood flowing towards Louis' mouth. He let out a released moan. Louis let go of Lestat's wrist, and stopped sucking. Lestat opened his eyes.

"More, a little more," he pleaded in the mist of ecstasy. He pressed his wrist to Louis' lips. Louis pushed it back, but Lestat held it firmly against his mouth. Louis shook his head, his eyes glaring at Lestat. "Yes, Louis, take it. Take more." Louis clenched his teeth. "No! Open your mouth, Louis." Louis managed to turn his head, freeing from Lestat's hold. He sprung from the bed.

"Wait, you can't stop now. Just a little more, I promise!" Lestat trapped Louis.

"Lestat, no! I had enough. It was enough!" Lestat bit his wrist again, rushing the wound to Louis, but Louis' mouth was closed. His fingers clutched at Louis' jaw, prying it open. The wound healed. Lestat let go of Louis, showing his choleric disappointment with the sharp tugging of his sleeve. Louis was wiping the smeared blood from his mouth.

"It was enough, Lestat," he iterated sternly. "I can't let myself be hauled by the swoon. What if I cannot stop?" Lestat knew Louis was still unable to restrain with humans, could not manage the little drink. He nourishes on the blood, and impelled by the hunger he drinks until he is too overcome with the swoon and cannot manage to spare their lives. The vampire blood does not sustain their immortal lives like only human blood can, but regardless, they can experience, and fall prey to the swoon.

"What if?" Lestat mocked. "What? That you'll become some sort of unrecognizable monster? You think you will become something like me, don't you. That's what you always think."

"It has never occurred to me to think of you as a monster, not in the way you mean, then. I fear that in taking your strong blood in such precipitated manner, I might lose any sanity or any respect that I still have for human life. Oh, and I don't mean you have any of these. But then, you are not like me. Just as you were not like me when you were made." Lestat brooded on it, guessing Louis was too informed. So Nicholas had gone mad, and Gabrielle had grown cold towards mortals after the blood, but that didn't mean it was exclusive of his blood. David is a perfectly sane vampire. And Claudia, she had been nothing short of an excellent vampire, albeit she was only a little child. Louis himself had come out right too, except for the damn apprehensive moral dilemma which Lestat flouted.

"It is not that I don't want the powers," Louis continued, Lestat was rolling his eyes. "They will become part of my being as I endure with the years, Lestat, I know. I will take your blood, for believe me I do want it, but only as long as I still feel I can hold back." At this words, Lestat turned to look at Louis. Louis was glad that Lestat was responding. He tucked a lock of Lestat's blond hair and smiled. "Maybe in time, there won't be any more need, and I will not stop until I've drained you." Lestat smiled back, finally.

"Can't wait," he said, and pulled Louis for a kiss. They fell back on the bed. Lestat's tongue started licking at Louis' lips, until the lips parted imposed by the demanding tongue. Lestat's tongue slid into Louis' mouth, and they locked in an impassioned kiss. Lestat was skilled with his tongue, Louis was thinking, a great kisser in fact, perhaps experienced from his mortal years. Louis was incited to erase any doubt Lestat could have about his own kissing abilities, and take back that uncalled for comment of his back at the river, so he responded to the kiss in equal zeal. How did they ever began to kiss like mortal lovers, was out of Lestat's reason; in all his years as a vampire he'd only dream in kissing Louis in the very manner, but was daunted to test his reserved fledgling, thinking he'd only receive a scolding if he dared. He found it hard to believe that Louis would entangle in such licentious conduct as a mortal man, being stoutly subject to his religious standards. Louis wasn't bad at all. Lestat was beginning to feel lightheaded, but he kept his composure. He couldn't let Louis know how good he was, or he'd never hear the end of it. He began kissing Louis more passionately, if possible. Louis was doing his best to rival his maker, until he inevitably moaned deliriously despite himself. Lestat broke the kiss, his ears ringing with the sound of it.

"You like it, Louis, I can tell," he smirked. Louis' mind was cursing him. A little annoyed, he pretended to leave the bed, but Lestat rolled over atop him in a straddle. "I like it too," he said. "I like it very much." He leaned to kiss him again. Louis responded uninhibited, loosening to the sensation. They hugged, their bodies, like their mouths, pressed together. Lestat could feel the warmth of their bodies, and the electrifying thrill that coursed through every hair of his skin. For a moment it struck him how it resembled mortals during sex. And their position was nothing but suggestive. He wondered if Louis noticed too. Lestat was becoming entranced with the thought of it; it wasn't at all what he'd usually think of doing with Louis, his thoughts rather revolved around censuring ways of sharing blood. Now he was thinking of Louis and him, involved in human coitus. Consummation would surely arrive fast, to last an unnervingly brief time, and in a measly wave of pleasurable heat. Yet, just the thought of it was outrageously erotic. Lestat's pelvis started rocking against Louis, in cue with his thoughts. Louis broke the kiss with widened eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He was turning blood-red.

"No idea," Lestat answered, without stopping. He buried his face on Louis' hair. His hands slid to cup Louis' rear, pulling it towards his swaying hips.

"Stop it," Louis commanded. Lestat only moved faster.

"Do you remember this, Louis?" Lestat muttered. "The movement? It comes so naturally. It had been too long yet when I was in David's body and had sex with th--,"

"Stop!" Louis seethed, utterly uninterested with anything Lestat had to say, but Lestat continued, unheeding. The bed had started rocking as well, making rhythmic noises, and Louis's head was tapping against the headboard. He was baffled with embarrassment, with what Lestat's motions depicted.

"This is so tantalizingly twisted," Lestat was saying, awed, his face in a droll. "I mean, it's cognately human; feels so graciously uncanny when I do it!"

"Shut up!" Louis barked. "Don't talk to me," he said with scorn. Never would he have imagined being caught in such unsettling, completely bashful situation. The worst part was that he wasn't all repulsed by it. He felt provoked with the image of Lestat trying to do him, or whatever it was he was doing, and it was more than he could bear. It was atrocious, not to mention unscrupulously shameful. Lestat was having a riot. He was now completely ravished with Louis' reaction. He started moaning, a close imitation to the sounds of love-making.

"Don't do that," Louis gasped. He heard Lestat chuckle and he sneered. "Quit it, Lestat. It's not even funny!" Lestat was now laughing frantically.

"Yes, yes, hmm! Oh!" He moaned.

"Monster!" Louis roared. "Let go of me!" Lestat stopped abruptly, startling even Louis by the suddenness. He didn't expect Lestat to actually comply. Lestat was looking at Louis, and then he gave a quick glance to his groin. Louis was struck with dreadful foreboding.

"Do you suppose there's an ultimate reason...some dark esoteric purpose to its final poise?" Lestat asked suddenly. Louis couldn't believe he was being earnest.

"Mon Dieu!" he gasped. "You've finally turned mad." Lestat sat up, releasing Louis. Louis was looking at Lestat, both elbows propped on the mattress.

"No, I'm serious," Lestat said. "I mean, it's useless so why end in such state?" Louis was at a loss of words. "By the way, has my blood affected you?"

"What?" Louis asked, then saw Lestat staring at his crotch. "No! I...don't think...," he stammered. Lestat's hand had moved to feel Louis' organ. Louis recoiled like a snail into its shell.

"Really Louis, you act like a virgin on her wedding night," Lestat grinned. "I want to see if you've changed."

"I haven't, alright?" Louis said, conserving his dignity. "Just take my word for it."

"Louis, for God's sake!" Lestat said unbelievably. "It's not like I haven't seen you. Mon Dieu! I had you shaved and trimmed and washed naked before I even turned you into one of us. And, yes, I watched it all, so don't give me any surprised look."

Louis groaned almost inaudibly. He had suspected it, perhaps was even aware of it, but somehow it felt better without actually 'knowing' it.

"I think I should go and see if I can bring some mortal female to climax; you know, sans naughty hands or vampire kiss. Just this," Lestat said, pointing to his privates.

"You wouldn't!" Louis was flabbergast.

"That would be some achievement, don't you think?" Lestat said, leering.

"No!" Louis bolted. "You're mad! You can't even be thinking this. It's depravity. We are not devised for it. Not meant for it."

"Who says we aren't?" Lestat asked.

"Lestat, you're scaring me. Please be sensible. You cannot go through with this. I...I forbid it."

"Oh?" Lestat raised a brow. "Well, damn it," he said in mock disappointment.

"Lestat, think on it. With that...with your...well you could tear her apart."

"Oh, but I could be gentle. Very gentle. I was gentle with Gretchen, never hurt her. Here I'll show you."

"What! No!" Lestat seized Louis before he fled to the door, then pushed him against the wall. He started rocking his hips once again against Louis'. Louis last blush hadn't faded when he gained a new shade of crimson red.

"Just like this," Lestat said, making slow motions. "Hmm, rather nice, yes?" Louis mouth was a thin line, his eyes darting daggers at Lestat. "Oh, if only I'd known you as a mortal, I doubt I could keep this pace with you, Louis. I would've do you hard." Louis grimaced.

"You're completely out of your mind. I wouldn't let you. It doesn't work like this with us," he said.

"You're right," Lestat said. "We're both men! I don't know what I was thinking. You're too damn pretty Louis, it confounds me." Louis let out a snort. Lestat stepped back, Louis' shoulders sagging in allay, when Lestat took him by the arms and turned him roughly around, pressing his body back to the wall. He resumed his movements, his pelvis now rocking towards Louis' backside. "Now that's more like it, I think." Lestat said.

"Imbecile," Louis cursed. Lestat laughed. Louis couldn't even budge a little; he was enclosed between Lestat's arms. There was an electric tingle that coursed his every tissue. It wasn't the movement alone, but the fact that it was Lestat doing it that stirred him sensually. Louis was very quiet, had stopped struggling. He wondered, would he really have desisted if he had known Lestat as a mortal? Lestat might have not possessed the bewitching appearance of a vampire, but he was quite handsome nonetheless. Louis imagined if he didn't fall for his looks alone, he would no sooner yield to his damnable magnetizing persona. His eyes were closing sluggishly, he suddenly felt carried away in the movement, in the parody of love-making. It was nothing but folly, but somehow agreeable, it meant Lestat desired him in his wish to take him like a mortal.

Lestat twined his fingers with Louis', and felt a tug in his heart to see Louis holding him back. He stopped, withdrew his hand. Their bodies standing still, their breathing arrested. There was an eerie silence, a meaningful trice. Lestat was too stunned to describe it. Louis had stopped upbraiding; the response had been one of acceptance. Sure, Lestat was only playing, spiting Louis, but he never figured this. In a flashing impulse, Lestat embraced Louis and sank his fangs onto the base of his neck. Louis let out a startled cry, followed by a moan that could not be discerned between pain nor pleasure. Louis leaned against Lestat's body, surrendering, letting him drink the blood at his will. Lestat withdrew shortly, licked at Louis' healing wound. Louis turned his face, his tongue licking at the blood that lingered on Lestat's tongue. Their tongues teased one another, until Louis turned around to fully to lock his mouth to Lestat's. The kiss was rough then gentle, hurried and then slow. They broke apart. Lestat started kissing Louis all over his face. The forehead, nose, cheeks, mouth. He looked at Louis, their fevered breaths touching.

"Tell me something, Louis," Lestat breathed. "Are we lovers, in the true sense, like a mortal couple?"

"Yes," Louis answered.

"And you love me," Lestat said.

"Yes."

"Are you attracted to me, physically?"

"Why, yes," Louis answered. "You are beautiful. Like an angel."

"Ah, but fallen angel," Lestat corrected with his devilish grin. He took Louis' hand and took them out to the balcony. The horizon was turning a prism of light colors, the clouds' contour starting to brighten as the Earth rotated to allow way to another day. They liked to share the spectacle, the last minutes of twilight, until they were forced to their sleep. Lestat hugged Louis. They were together. Yes, it was painfully perfect, and their love the crowning evil.

"Do you still plan to do that to a woman?" Louis asked after a while. Lestat started laughing.

"Ah, I didn't think you'd stop exhorting me with that. You have such disreputable conception of me, but I guess it is well deserved," he said. "Tempting, actually, but I wasn't serious. All the time I was thinking that red is such a becoming color on you."

"I am so glad I amuse you," Louis scoffed. "I only hope you are sincere. It's horribly wicked, Lestat."

"Still, I was thinking," Lestat continued, "Well, since you weren't all that resisting, that I could try with you, see what happens."

"Absolutely not!"