I wrote this in tandem with a dear friend who wishes to remain anonymous. I wish to thank Versailles Rose for giving me the idea...she used it first, and I like it a lot, and was unable to get it out of my mind :)


NOTE: Brian in the story is Brian Callahan, my character,. He has worked for L&L for 10 years or so.

~g




(Louis P.O.V.)

The invitation arrived, hand-delivered by a young man dressed in, of all things, the livery of an 18th century footman. I took it from him bemusedly, and closed the door. I unrolled the fine parchment, wondering what Lestat was up to *now*.

“Who was at the door, Cheri?” He called. I looked up to see Lestat, naked and beautiful, at the top of the stairs drying his hair with a towel.

I waved the scroll back and forth as I walked up the stairs.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t read it yet. It was delivered by a footman. Odd, that.” He followed me into the parlour still dripping from his shower.

“Well?”

“It’s an invitation.” I stated, far less interested in the invitation than I was with the vision he was presenting me with.

He looked up, mildly curious, as I took a seat, reading the particulars.

“From who?” He asked, tossing the wet towel onto the highly polished hardwood floor. He slithered into my lap, all arms and legs and sweet damp skin. He was paying no attention at all to the fact that I could no longer *see* the document in question.

“It’s from your old friend Marius. It appears he has invited us to a soiree at his place in Metairie. A costumed affair, it would seem.” I said, watching him as he squirmed around trying to make himself comfortable. It was not an easy thing to do in the particular chair I had chosen to occupy. “I would imagine he has invited the rest of the coven, as well.”

He settled finally for straddling my lap in a most distracting manner.

“I know! We can go as Siegfried and Roy.” He said, laughing. I pushed him off my lap onto the floor.

“With you as the Lion, I suppose.” I said, as he stretched luxuriously, unconcerned by the tumble. “No, that won’t do. I know you; you’d prefer a much more.... glittery costume than *that*. “

He went on to name several other *couples*, each more ridiculous than the last, until he noticed that I was waiting calmly for him to finish.

“Do you have an idea, Louis? He asked, sitting up, and looking curiously at me.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” I said, getting up to go to the office. He followed me down the hall, close at my heels like an insanely large cat.

I sat down behind the desk, and rummaged about for the small card file, and flipped through it.
“You are sure you want to attend?” I asked him. I had to smile. He was standing in the doorway, still beautifully naked. He grinned.

“Yes, I’d like to go. But I’m thinking now that you have something up your sleeve, Chaton. What is it?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that, my darling. But I *do* have an idea. Quite an amusing one at that.”

“Do you, really.” He said, eyeing me suspiciously. “Care to tell me what it is?”

“I was thinking along the lines of Louis XVI and Louise de la Valliere.”

“The Sun King and his mistress? “ He said musingly. He ran a hand through his hair.

I waited.

“Who gets to be Louise de la Valliere?” He asked, his mouth twitching.

“Why you, of course. You know you want to.” I answered. His blue eyes danced.

He stood still for a moment, gazing at me.

“What color will I wear?” He asked, finally, as I knew he would.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several nights later, after making seemingly hundreds of phone calls, the costumers we had hired arrived at our door armed with books showing period costume, and all manner of material samples, and tailoring accoutrements. They had no way of knowing, of course, that we were probably more well versed in the costumes of those times than anything that could be shown us in a book.

There were two of them; a willowy young man named Clive and a woman who called herself Marge. She was *not* willowy, or young, but had a professional air about her, combined with the attitude of a drill sergeant. We found out later that she also had an unerring sense of color and an uncanny flair for exactly how the human form should be draped.

They introduced themselves, and I suggested that we go upstairs to the parlour where we had cleared some room for them to work in.

“Clive, you take the Sun King over there, and I’ll work on Louise.” She eyed Lestat closely for a minute, sizing him up. “I usually work on the female costumes.” She said to him, turning him around and critically eyeing the breadth of his shoulders.

I caught Lestat’s eyes from where I was standing and was amused to see him looking rather taken aback by her manhandling. I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging look and turned to where Clive was ineffectually trying to direct me. The young man appeared to be a little flustered for some reason. I could hear Marge muttering about the size of Lestat’s back, and the width of his shoulders.

“I guess off the shoulder is out. And how the hell am I gonna come up with a décolletage for you?” She said, as she unbuttoned his shirt, and pushed at his chest. Lestat was already losing his initial surprise at her forwardness, and seemed to be interested in what she was trying to accomplish. She began measuring him, and he obligingly turned for her, lifting his arms when asked, and being generally cooperative.

I was doing the same thing on my side of the room, although I was beginning to notice that there was a good deal less matter-of-factedness on Clive’s part. I was glad Lestat seemed to be distracted by Marge. The last tailor had not fared so well when simply doing his job. And *he* hadn’t been giving me the puppy eyes.

Lestat’s attention snapped back to me when heard Clive ask me to remove my shirt. I did as I was asked, pulling the shirt over my head, and tossing it onto a nearby chair. I could feel Clive’s hands trembling slightly as he measured across my back, but what worried me the most was the way Lestat had lifted his lip from his teeth. I tried to catch his eye, but he was having none of it. He was interrupted in mid-snarl, when Marge, who was a tall woman, stood in his line of sight. It was amusing to watch him try and look around her, for she moved from side to side almost as though she knew what he was doing.

After the measurements were taken, we were shown the pictures of what Marge considered to be the correct costumes for us, and we also took her recommendations as to the colors she thought would be suitable. Clive was kept busy filling out forms, and making notes as she spoke. An appointment was set up for several weeks later, when she though she should have something for us to try on, and they left.

Lestat had a few pointed comments to make about Clive, but they were more posturing on his part than anything else. He has a possessive streak, though at least now he doesn’t usually kill anyone anymore. And as I pointed out to him, Clive was not my type. I didn’t care for Brits.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brian brought them back, along with the nearly completed garments at the appointed time. Lestat asked him if he would like to stay, sensing his ardent curiosity, and possibly because he wanted to see Brian’s reaction to him in female attire. Marge insisted upon dressing Lestat in another room altogether, along with her assistant, a mousy young woman who was hard to see if she didn’t move. She seemed frightened of Marge. Brian remained in the room with Clive and myself, sitting to one side and staying quieter than was usual for him.

Lestat had made several comments regarding the return of Clive before their arrival, but I was reasonably certain that Marge would be able to keep him engaged if anyone could. He’d admitted a certain grudging respect for her. After an hour or so of fussing, I was standing upon a small wooden platform while Clive fluttered and moved about me, adjusting seams, and gathers and what ever else needed to be done. At one point I had heard a thump followed by a flurry of noise and activity. Not long after that Lestat made his entrance wearing quite a beautiful gown.

I could hear a sharp intake of breath from Brian, which was not unexpected, and Clive had managed to tear his eyes from me for a few moments to admire the astonishing change. Marge, however, made a beeline for where I stood, muttering under her breath.

“Clive, what are you thinking? “ She said in an annoyed register. “Never mind....as if I didn’t know.” Her eyes cut to his quickly. She looked at the rhinegraves I was wearing.

“I can’t believe you did this. Do you think that your flirting will change things? Christ’s Sake! It’s not CORRECT. Not enough room. Fuck’s sake....”

Her voice trailed off, and I felt her hands moving the material that made up the rhinegraves.

“What?” Clive asked.

“Look. This is not the fucking twentieth century. Wrong as it might appear....wrong as it might appear, the rhinegraves will be shown as *I* want it to be. It shouldn’t be so.... customized...so ...*fitted*. This is 17th century France, after all. So Clive...this is what I want from you, hear me? I want a look that *you* are wholly unfamiliar with, that is...a look that *you* have *not* encountered. I know that *you* know this, Clive. So what is the motherfucking Problem? Fix it.”

I could see Lestat, standing regally in his gown of blue satin, watching with narrowed eyes as Clive clipped away the threads that he’d tacked the rhinegraves with. Marge turned back to Lestat and began fussing with the abundant lace frothing about the décolletage, put there to enhance the bosom that Lestat did not have.
The little mouse of a girl skittered into the room, and Marge immediately began snapping orders at her. She approached Lestat as though she was afraid she might burst into flames if she got too close. He paid her no notice, his narrowed eyes on Clive’ hands, steadier now, as he concentrated on his work, and not accidentally snipping the fabric.

“Lestat,” I said, “The gown looks wonderful, Mon Cher. It will be interesting to note the reactions of the other guests, non?”

The distraction worked, for he looked at me, his face brightening as he thought about it.

“Interesting. That might not be the exact word, but it’ll do for now.” He turned his head, and looked over at Brian, who was sitting, relaxed on the divan. He’d been watching Lestat, as he so often does, but this time with a rather knowing air. The little drama that was being enacted had not escaped his notice.

“What do you think, Brian? The grand appearance, non?” Lestat smiled winningly.

Before Brian could answer, Marge interrupted him.

“Excuse me. I wonder if you could try and remain still for at least a minute or two? All this fidgeting...”

Her voice trailed off as she finished tacking the lace where she wanted it.

“There. That should do it. And when I cinch that corset around you, it’ll look terrific. You have such fine skin...if the people at this party don’t know you, I guarantee you’ll have them all fooled.” Her fingers lingered briefly on the skin of his chest before she suddenly collected herself, and stepped back from him.

“I thank you, Madame, “Lestat said, graciously, “The costumes are exquisite.”

Marge looked abashed for a moment, and then she turned and told the mouse to go and help Mr. Lioncourt take the dress off, admonishing her to have a care with the lace. The mouse looked alarmed at the prospect, but apparently was more afraid of Marge than she was of Lestat. I’m not sure I blamed her, either. Marge turned to look over Clive’s work, and it seemed to satisfy her. She told him to help me remove the garments, and I heard Brian chuckle softly. I looked at him questioningly.

“It’s a good thing he left the room already.” Brian said, indicating Lestat’s exit with a nod of his head.

I nodded. “Yes, he is a bit excitable at times.” I said, as Clive helped me out of the elaborate shirt.

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.” He said, dryly.

Brian rarely made personal observations regarding either Lestat or myself and I can only assume it was the unusual circumstance in which he found himself. I also got the distinct impression that he’d been quite relieved when Marge cut off Lestat’s question to him earlier. Brian had seen Lestat in a lot of different clothes in his years working for us, and also *out* of his clothes as well. Lestat in a gown was a new one for him, though.

When I’d finally been relieved of my elegant costume, I stepped off the wooden platform, and pulled on my jeans, and a T-shirt. I was uncomfortable, wearing underwear as I was, but I thought it prudent in this instance. I didn’t think I would have them on very long after everyone left anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lestat and I had of course had been offered accommodations at Marius’ home, but seeing that we lived close by, we did not feel the need to stay there the night before the ball. We decided we would be dressed at our home, and make a grand entrance and we would sleep the next day at Metairie.

Marge arrived, this time with a rather larger entourage, including a hairdresser for Lestat. Lestat would not hear of my covering my head with one of the towering wigs that would have been appropriate for the costume, and remarked that he had not bothered to wear such things when they had been in fashion.

“After all, Louis, you *are* the King. You can do as you please.” He said, as Marge and her small gaggle of assistants herded him into the guest bedroom where his clothing awaited him.

I went into the parlour where Clive awaited me, along with the mousy young woman who apparently was to assist him. Clive introduced her as Tiffany, and she was busying herself laying out the costume in the order that it would be put on me. I was wearing only a robe, and once again the confining underwear. I wondered if Lestat was wearing any...when I’d asked him, he’d said he’d have some on, in a rather cryptic way.

When I was finally dressed, an obviously proud Clive led me to the full-length mirror, and I had to admit, the costume was quite beautifully accurate. The rhinegraves were rather plain, black and full cut, as Marge had demanded, bottom edges frothed with black lace. The waistcoat made from beautifully patterned cream silk, with buttons of gold. The lace cravat, not as long as those worn at the time I had been alive, was held in place by way of silk ribands tied strategically to the shirt worn beneath. The justacorps, a sort of fitted jacket, was black silk brocade, slashed with the same luminous creamy silk of the waistcoat. The cuffs were wide, and decorated with gold buttons and braid. Cream-colored also was the hose, held up by garters made of the finest silk, and the shoes...literal confections, square toed, with a high tongue, jeweled buckles and festooned with tiny rosettes and ribbon. I fastened the bandelier at my hips, and drew the shortsword, a movement once quite familiar. Upon examining the weapon, I found it to be quite real, the jeweled hilt winking beneath the electric lights. I sheathed it again, and thanked Clive sincerely. His cheeks stained with the blush that quickly rose from his neck, but he accepted the compliment graciously, asking me to sit so that he might arrange my hair. I did so, and he released it from the ribbon that held it back, and attacked it with curling tongs, explaining apologetically that the Sun King’s dark hair had looked so. I let him arrange it so, but refused Louis the XIV’s pencil-thin moustache.

I heard a commotion down the hall, and knew that it would be Lestat emerging. He made a grand entrance into the parlour, and it took me a moment to actually process what I was seeing. The bodice and overdress were made from heavy royal blue satin, held at the sides by jeweled fasteners, and the under dress was made from a shimmering watered silk of palest green, laddered with tiny darker green bows and white lace. The sleeves of the dress reached his elbows, with fine lace flowing around his lower arms in lavish abundance. The tightness of the corset and the lace at the décolletage did indeed give the illusion of a bosom, and made his waist look quite narrow. Around his neck he wore a necklace of pearls and sapphire. Matching earrings graced the lobes of his ears. His hair had been gathered high, and fell in tendrils at his neck, curls framing his face. He held a fan in one hand. He was looking at me with frank and open admiration, and he moved across the room gracefully, falling into quite a passable curtsey before me.

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” He murmured. I took his hand and raised him up. Marge and her entourage broke into spontaneous applause.

“Remember, Louis when it used to take us this long to dress....” Lestat stopped, suddenly realizing what he’d been about to say. “When it took us so long to dress for the *last* ball?” He finished smoothly.

We allowed them to take several photographs, and they left, except for Clive, whose services were still needed. Lestat called Brian on the cell phone to tell him to bring the car around. He looked highly incongruous in his female finery with a modern telephone at his ear.

“He’ll be here in a moment, Louis, and we can show him his birthday gift. And may I say, mon ange that you look absolutely magnificent?”

“No more than you do, darling. I am quite simply amazed at the transformation.” I said.

“No more so than *I* was, I can assure you.” Lestat answered, trying to maneuver in his voluminous gown.

We heard Brian at the door downstairs and Lestat called for him to join us. He did so, thinking perhaps there were things to be brought to the car. He stopped short when he saw us, his jaw dropping comically. He snapped his mouth closed suddenly and shook his head, smiling.

“I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. “ He said. “You both look wonderful.”

“Thank you, Brian.” Lestat said, genially. “I don’t know, Louis. He looks a bit underdressed for the party, don’t you think?”

“Indeed, yes. Brian, I am afraid you’ll need to change into something a little more extravagant.”

“Change?” Brian said, mystified.

“For the party. It’s a masked ball, you know. Come, we have just the thing for you to wear. It’s your birthday, after all. You should come to the party too.”

It was nice to see Brian looking non-plussed. Over the years he has schooled himself to the point where he does not react so openly to us...well, to Lestat actually. His feelings were never hidden... especially once he figured out what we were. Lestat tends to pamper him outrageously at times, as though he were a favored pet, and then he forgets about him at others. Brian, however is a constant, at least as far as his role in our lives. His delight at this sudden surprise was quite touching, actually.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Lestat asked. “We’ll be late if you don’t get a move on. Faire vinaigre, cher!. Clive is in the guest bedroom waiting to assist you with your costume. You remember Clive, don’t you?” Lestat waved a hand imperiously, and Brian, blushing and rather sweetly confused, went down the hall to be dressed.

Lestat turned to me, and my breath caught again in my throat. It was really quite startling to see him thus. He seemed to have forgotten his appearance entirely, which was not really a surprise. There is not much that makes Lestat self-conscious, at least not in the way a human might feel so.

“It would appear that your birthday surprise for Brian is already a success, my love.” I said. Lestat had caught sight of himself in the mirror and was staring curiously at the image presented. He lifted the jeweled mask to his face, and turned to look at me through it.

“It’s too bad they all *do* know me. I wonder if I *could* fool anyone?” He said, smiling fetchingly, and fluttering his lashes.

“Doubtless you could, my own. As it is, you will have to settle for dazzling them all with your beauty.”

He lowered the mask, and leaned to be kissed. His mouth was sweet, as always. I felt suddenly that there was entirely too much silk and satin and scratchy lace between the two of us, but I refrained from saying so. His body felt different under my hands, molded by stays and sheathed so snugly by the gown.

“It’s been many long years since I got someone out of gown, Lestat.” I whispered in his ear. He moved his head back, laughing.

“We’ll figure it out, I’m sure. I’m tempted to find out if you can right now, though, petit.” He kissed me again.

I released him, smiling.

“I think we should at least put in appearance with these beautiful clothes intact, non? And we *did* invite Brian.”

“I suppose you’re right, Louis. I wonder how Brian is getting along in there? I hear a lot of noise. Do you think he and Clive have hit it off?” He moved gracefully to the door, and put his head out to look down the hall.

“I am sure I don’t know. And I rather think that Brian is thinking more about this surprise of yours than he is about Clive.”

“I do hope Marius does not mind that we are bringing a guest with us.” He looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

“Marius won’t mind. We should make it known that he is to be untouched, however.”

“No one would dare.” Lestat said, darkly.

“Best to make it clear, my love. Although I suspect that you are correct.”

Lestat was circling me, brushing his fingers over the rich cloth of the coat, and examining the lace. He had already dismissed the problem of Brian being harassed by anyone. We heard the door down the hall open, and Clive appeared at the door, ushering in Brian, red-faced, but very obviously pleased. His costume was similar in period to ours, mid-17th century, more in the English Cavalier style. A coat of deep red, flared, and fitted to him perfectly. Black breeches and turned down riding boots of soft black leather. He wore a black, curled periwig, very long and a large, plumed hat. A rapier rode his left hip, and lace foamed at his wrists and throat.

“Perfect!” Lestat exclaimed. “I knew you’d wear that look well, Brian.”

Brian grinned self-consciously

“I feel like Captain Morgan.” He said, laughing.

“Who?” Lestat asked.

He was now circling Brian, leaning forward to examine the lace that frothed at his neck. Brian’s respiration picked up a bit, which I am certain Lestat noticed. “That’s fine lace, too. French, Marge assured me, made in Brittany.”

“If Brian is ready, we should leave, mon cher.” I said, “The other driver we hired is already in the car.”

Clive had already packed his things, and gone, his narrow face pleased. Brian most probably had his phone number. He never had trouble * hooking up*, as Lestat put it.

“Of course he is ready, mon cher. Look at him in his finery! There is one more thing. Brian, there is something for you in the refrigerator downstairs. To….fortify you. We shall await you in the car, cher.”

Lestat said this carelessly, and took my arm as we started to the stairs.

“Thank you.” Brian said, softly. He made no move to follow us, waiting until we had gotten outside the front door. I heard his steps on the stairs as the driver outside held the car door for us, and I handed Lestat into the dim interior. Passers by gawked at us.

I told the driver there would be one other joining us and he nodded, closing the door, and waiting by it. I looked to Lestat.

“Rather early for Brian’s…drink, non?” I asked.

“A little, yes. If he takes it tonight, there shall be no questions in anyone’s mind at the party, though, as to…protocol.”

Lestat periodically left Brian small vials of his own precious blood. As a result, Brian was quite a healthy man, and looked rather more youthful at 30 than perhaps he would as a result of proper nutrition, and exercise so touted by his own generation. It might also go far in explaining Brian’s rather ferocious devotion to Lestat, and his unquestioned loyalty to us, although I was of the opinion that he would have been so had Lestat never started the practice.


Part 2---Brian *fortifies* himself, and then on to the party!
~gairid

(Brian POV)

Only when they closed the door was I able to move. It was weeks early for what I had come to regard as Lestat’s…gifts to me. Not that they came on any specific schedule. I knew that Lestat’s mind did not run along the linear paths that most mortal minds did. And not since after the first time that he had left me such a thing had he even brought it up in my presence. I would occasionally find a note from him telling me that there was something for me at the flat, nothing more than that, but I would know what he meant. I would receive the message (and I had carefully saved each one, written in his scrawled hand) and feel my mouth well up, feel my hands begin to tremble. I would force myself to go on with whatever I was supposed to be doing, not allowing myself to immediately run across the courtyard that separated my own home from theirs. As though by doing so I could convince myself that this was not one of the things that had come to have great meaning in my life…perhaps the only meaning. I am not complaining. I would not have it any other way.

I went into the kitchen and turned on the light. Walked to the refrigerator, which had inside it only beverages that might be offered to a mortal that had a reason to have stopped by, such as the costumers this evening. Bottled water, and soft drinks. Beer. These things were restocked periodically, for there were times that weeks went by without the supply being touched. I ignored these things, and opened the little door where butter might be stored in any other refrigerator. There was a small box in there, and in the box a tiny glass vial. The amount it held was nowhere near a mouthful. The essence therein would cover most of the surface of my tongue, I knew that. I held the little bottle in my hand, warming it with the heat from my body. There was not much time to do this. Usually when I did this I would hold it so for an hour, sometimes more, opening my hand to look at it every now and then. I would stay in the kitchen, sitting in one of the four chairs around the small table that was in there. The windows were always shuttered, and the only light that would be on would be the light from the open refrigerator door. I never even turn on the overhead lights. When Lestat left this for me, the windows were always shuttered, though I did not know them to be at any other time. His blood. His and Louis’.

I always waited until near the end of the day.

This evening, however, I did not have the time to hold it and gaze at the rich crimson color. To open it and breathe in the scent, heady and exotic. I opened the vial, and poured it onto my tongue, shuddering at the taste of it. It burns the tongue…it is a trail of flame when I swallow, and I swear to you that I can feel it as it courses through me, mingling with my own poor blood, the twisting, alien feel of it. Always when I swallow, I close my eyes. Savour the taste and the burning. When I open my eyes, there is a renewed clarity of vision, and a sharpening of my hearing. I can smell things that I had never noticed before, and realize too what I am smelling. I feel strong.

Curiously, when I look at the vial after I take my gift from it, there is never so much as a trace of red left in it. Not a coating as there would be with human blood, as though it is alive and aware enough to wish to escape into a body somehow. Perhaps it is. I replaced the vial into its little box, and went to join them in the car.

Tingling, I closed and locked the door behind me, and I entered the back of the stretch parked before the house. I seated myself across from them, and the rich scent of them, so strong in my awakened nose was enough to set my head reeling as though I had taken a drink of strong liquor. They appeared to me as they always do, sleek and beautiful, and god-like, but with some added luster….a shimmering almost, as though I am not able to focus fully upon them. I had never been in their presence so soon after my little drink.

Lestat, so beautiful in his bewitching disguise watched me with the faintly amused air I often noticed about him. Louis nodded distantly at me, noticing me more because of the scent of their blood, I am certain. I could still taste it in my mouth. I knew that the taste would linger there for a while.

~~~~~
(Louis P.O.V.)

Brian had a dazed look about him as he entered the car, and I could smell Lestat’s blood, small though the amount was. I sometimes wonder if this is a disservice to him, although I am aware that Brian himself does not think so. I know that Lestat believes it to be a protective gesture on his part, keeping Brian from any number of nasty human ailments, and perhaps also from any rogue vampires that might enter our territory. This has not happened once to my knowledge since our return here some seventeen years ago, but anything was possible, I supposed.

I held Lestat’s gloved hand in mine, watching Brian curiously. For several minutes he stayed dazed, looking as though he were not quite sure where he was, and then, as though a switch had been flipped, his focus sharpened, and he sat up a little straighter in his seat, smiling at us.

“Can I ask a question? “ He said. He was relaxing by slow degrees.

“Of course.” Lestat said.

“Where are we going? Where is the party?” He was genuinely curious. He had not known, of course that he would be our guest this evening, rather than our driver. He had not been unduly curious as to the destination beforehand, for he was used to being told where we were headed even as we got into the car sometimes.

“Metairie. Marius is our host.” Lestat said.

Brian sat still, digesting this. Marius was the only other vampire Brian had had any contact with, and that was several years back, when Marius had been a guest at our home for several weeks while his own home underwent some modifications.

“Be at ease, Brian. You’ll have a good time. We shall see to that. And there will be other mortals in attendance. Marius always did have a wide array of friends.”

Brian smiled then. A sweet, almost shy smile that I had never seen on his face before.

“Thank you both for…all this.” He said, indicating his costume and waving vaguely as if to encompass all that lay ahead. “It’s very kind of you.”

“Nonsense!” Lestat said. He leaned forward, and withdrew a bottle of champagne, nestled in a bucket of ice. He eased the cork from it, and poured a glass of it, handing it to Brian.

“Kristal.” He said. “I am told it’s very fine. You will understand if we do not join you?”

Brian laughed, taking the flute from Lestat, and holding it aloft briefly, before drinking it down.

Lestat watched him swallow the champagne, his sensitive nose twitching slightly at the sharp odor of grape and alcohol. He looked expectantly at Brian.

“Excellent.” Brian affirmed. He declined the offer of a second glass, leaning forward.

“Another question?” I murmured, conscious of Lestat’s thigh, pressed against mine.

“If you don’t mind?” He said, looking into my eyes. He has rarely done this, although he seems easier around Lestat.

“I don’t mind.” I said. “Please feel free.”

“Is this how you used to dress? You know…back when…” He flushed red, suddenly.

“When we were alive?” Lestat supplied, with a chuckle. “Really, Brian, you needn’t be so worried about offending *us*. There is no such thing as political correctness among the undead, you know. And if I may answer your question…the clothes you are wearing are similar, although I never in my life wore such a hat. Your jacket is cut in the English style, although it emulated the French fashions of the day. Louis is dressed as a courtier…well, as the King, actually, and I know that he did not dress like such a dandy when he was alive, did you, mon cher?”

“Non, my love. I left that to you. Although I will say I never saw you in such flounces as *this*” I looked at Brian. “Lestat was always inordinately fond of bright colors, and anything shiny. He always managed to stand out in a crowd wherever he went. I know you have noticed *that*. I used to tell him he would stand out even if he wore a burlap sack.”

Because it was a bit later in the evening, we made good time on the I10, and arrived at Marius’ gracious home relatively on time. From the car we could see several figures entering the front door. Lestat nudged me, and nodded his head to Brian. He was gazing out the window, a look of wonder mixed with trepidation. The smell of his excitement was quite evident in the confines of the car. Our driver pulled the car up behind another limousine, already emptied of its’ passengers.

“Are you ready, Brian?” Lestat asked. He raised his mask to his face, and Brian gamely followed suit.

“I’m ready.” He said. He got out first and gallantly helped Lestat from the car.

Delighted, Lestat swept him a curtsy.

“That’s it, Brian. Right in the spirit of things.” Lestat was smiling widely. Brian turned to me as I joined them.

“You needn’t refer to me as ‘Your Majesty all night, Brian. I am certain that I shall be heartily sick of that after the first ten minutes or so.”

He looked at me, rather startled, and Lestat broke into a laugh.

“Yes, Louis *does* occasionally break form, and move and talk around others beside myself. You have lived to see it.” He said. He linked his arm in mine, and then gestured Brian to his other side.

“Alright. Our turn. Masks up, everyone.” Lestat said. My beauty.

I had to smile. Lestat was in high good humour, pleased to be entering the ball in his marvelous outfit. And I knew also he liked the idea of the whispers that would surely arise at Brian accompanying us. We mounted the broad stairs of the wide porch three abreast, and were met at the top by a bewigged footman who took our invitation and bowed as we approached the door.

We went inside, greeted by a blaze of light, and color. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of flowers, and the sounds were laughter and conversation, with soft music as a counterpoint. We were in a gracious foyer at the bottom of a sweeping staircase, where several people moved about, mortals that had been hired for the evening. I could see, standing at the bottom of the stairs, the gleaming eyes of a vampire, tall, yet slightly built, swathed in Bedouin robes. It was Khayman, and I felt the light touch of his mind brush mine in greeting. His signature touch seemed to be that slight madness that possessed him. It was somehow not threatening in any way. It was interesting to note that Brian noticed him almost immediately, although Khayman did not so much as glance at him.

I could feel Lestat, fairly vibrating beside me with his anticipation. Several of the mortals were glancing in surreptitious admiration at our little group. I wondered if any of them were aware of the type of creatures that were on the guest list.

Marius appeared at the door of the huge ballroom. No mask covered his face. He was dressed all in red, which I suppose was not surprising. I heard Lestat laugh, however, as Marius approached us with his arms held out. He embraced Lestat warmly, kissing him on either cheek.

“Cardinal Richelieu, as I live and breathe.” Lestat said, laughing, as Marius released him and turned to me.

“Good evening, Louis. I see we have pleasantly crossed historical paths this evening.” He took my hand, and held his between both of his. “I am so glad that you decided to come this evening. And with a most beautiful lady gracing your arm. You are certain to raise a few eyebrows tonight, Lestat.” He turned to Brian.

“I see you have brought a guest with you. Brian, isn’t it? Welcome to my home.”

Marius embraced Brian formally, and to his credit, Brian remained relaxed. Perhaps because he had met Marius before. He murmured his thanks, and made a formal little bow as Marius drew away from him.

“It’s Brian’s birthday. We thought he might enjoy a night out with us.” Lestat said, favoring Brian with a smile and a benevolent look.”

“Happy Birthday, Brian. There is food, and drink inside for those guests who may enjoy such things.”

Marius turned to us.

“Please come inside. Everyone will be so pleased to see you both again.”

Lestat snorted in a most unladylike fashion.

“I don’t think *everyone* will be. Where would the fun be in *that*?” He laid his hand on my arm, and raised his mask to his face.

“Are you ready, my darling?” I asked him.

“Indeed I am. Shall we?” He smiled at me, and I felt that familiar heat at the base of my spine even as we moved forward.

Heads turned when we entered the room, and I heard Lestat chuckle softly with pleased satisfaction. I don’t think he will ever quite leave behind his love of the spotlight. We passed David, dressed as some sort of Indian prince or something. His eyes were glued to Lestat, who inclined his head regally as we swept by him.

“Come, Brian. There’s someone I would like you to meet.” Lestat was saying, as he nodded graciously Maharet and Eric, without pausing. I knew to whom he referred even before I saw her. Gabrielle. His mother. I made no comment, and resolved to once again hold my tongue. She was standing alone, leaning nonchalantly against one of the burled columns that supported the ceiling of this wide room. She was dressed elegantly in a chic gown molded to her small form, her hair marcelled in a coif reminiscent of one of the silent film era stars. Her lovely face relaxed into a broad smile, eerily similar to the one on her son’s face.

When we reached the place where she stood, Lestat let go of my arm and swept her into a fierce hug. I stood back a bit, and glanced at Brian who was staring at them. I had a feeling that this might be a night that Brian would not soon forget.

When he finally let her go, Gabrielle stepped back from Lestat slightly breathless. She laughed, looking him up and down.

“The daughter I never had. I must say, Lestat, you carry off a dress rather well.” She said, still chuckling.

“I could say the same of you, Mother. I can’t remember the last time I saw *you* in a gown. You look stunning.” He touched her face briefly. It hurt me to see the softness in his eyes, for I did not see its’ answer in hers. She looked past him and her eyes met mine.

“Louis. How wonderful you look.” She said, embracing me briefly. I allowed this, and even returned it for Lestat’s sake.

“Thank you. The gown is lovely.” I said, stepping back from her.

She could feel my coolness, but then, she was used to it. It was no secret to *her* how I felt. She turned to look curiously at Brian.

“And who is this?” She said, her voice light.

“This is Brian Callahan. A trusted friend. Brian, may I introduce my mother…”

“Gabrielle.” She said, offering Brian her hand. He leaned over it, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

“I am pleased, Madame.” Brian said, formally. He kept glancing back and forth between her face and Lestat’s, as though he could not believe what he was seeing.

Gabrielle turned her head to look at me.

“If Louis trusts you, you must indeed be a good friend. Perhaps a dance later?” She said.

“Of course.” Brian said, abashed.

Lestat had come back to my side, and slipped an arm about my waist.

Maharet approached us, nodding once to Gabrielle, and greeting us congenially.

“You are looking quite startlingly well, Lestat.” She said, smiling. “And Louis…though I never thought to see you in such an abundance of frills and lace, you do make the penultimate Sun King. And both of you much more attractive than the pair you represent.” She moved a little closer to Lestat, peering at him through her mortals’ eyes.

“You are quite well?” She said. “No one has seen much of either of you.”

He nodded, and I could feel his arm tighten about me.

“Our own choice, I assure you. And I am perfectly fine, as you can see.” Lestat said, choosing not to elaborate.

Maharet only inclined her head, with a smile. I suspect she could read perfectly well what was behind his words, and my own silence. The last time we had seen her was when I had come to take Lestat home with me from St. Elizabeth's. There was no tension in his body or posture, though I thought I saw some faint challenge in his eyes as they held hers. If so, Maharet did not respond to it, bidding us a good evening and moving gracefully on.

Gabrielle gazed at Lestat penetratingly, as though she were trying to fathom what the exchange had really been about. She, of course, had already been gone when I decided it was time to bring Lestat home.

“Brian? Are you hungry, cher? Come, we shall go and see what sort of food there is for you. You can tell me what everything tastes like.” He linked his free arm through Brian’s and with a nod and a sweet smile to his mother, we moved off.

“Why don’t I go and have something to eat. I don’t need to tag along at your heels every step of the way.” Brian said. “You and Louis have a little catching up to do, it looks like. You can always find me when you’ve made the rounds. I even know someone here.”

Lestat looked at him.

“Do you? Who?”

“The cellist.” Brian said. “We’ve been out a few times. I’d like to say hello to him, when he has a break.”

“That would be fine, Brian. Doubtless you will be able to find us easily enough.” I said. He obviously wanted a little time on his own to process what was happening. There were more mortals in the room than vampires, and with the scent of Lestat lingering about him, I did not fear for him in this place.

“I’ll find you. I’m sure that you will be the ones surrounded by the most people.” He grinned, and moved off.

We resumed our slow progress through the throng, stopping to speak with several people, mortals mainly, prominent in New Orleans business. None of them seemed shocked at Lestat’s costume, although several of them did compliment him most sincerely. We were asked incessantly who we were. Lestat basked in the attention, but when we were alone (or relatively so) for a moment, he leaned and whispered into my ear.

“This is most tiresome, Louis. You should have reminded me what an absolute bore these things usually turn out to be.”

“That would not have held you back, my love. I know it and so do you. You’ll feel better when we dance later.” I said.

“I’ll feel better when we are naked in our bed, making love.” He said, with a smile. I kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Always in such a rush, my angel. And we have only been here a short while. Come now…there are many people who want to speak with you. We may as well let them all have an audience. With you.” I teased.

“Indeed. And look. There is Armand, looking particularly innocent. Shall we get it over with?”

“If you insist.” I said, dryly, We approached him. Armand, dressed as in Venetian courtiers’ garments, his costume reflecting closely the time in which he had been mortal. His auburn hair curled about his shoulders, and he reached a hand toward Louis, caressing his arm covetously. If he was trying to elicit a reaction from either of us, his attempt fell flat.

“Good evening Lestat. My god, but you are the very picture of feminine beauty tonight.” He bowed low before us. “A tid-bit fit for a King, indeed. And Louis, caro, beautiful as always. That costume is a proper setting indeed.”

“You are very fulsome tonight, Armand.” I commented. “Really. Such flattery!”

He waved his hand negligently.

“Not at all. I am pleased to see the two of you. It has been quite a long time, has it not? You are the very picture of contentment.” His voice was low and mellifluous, his large brown eyes gleamed liquidly.

“Where is Daniel?” Lestat asked, his voice light. “I should have thought he would be at your side.”

“I believe I saw him keeping company with Mael.” I put in helpfully.

“Alas, Daniel and I have not been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things lately.” Armand said.

There was no sign that either of us had hit a nerve, but the look in Lestat’s eye spoke volumes. I knew that he had seen Daniel as we walked in, and no doubt had taken a quick scan of the young one’s mind. He is not above such things, caring not a fig for manners when it suited him to forget them.

“I noticed that you have brought along your own pet mortal.” He murmured, flicking an eye to where Brian was standing near the food table, speaking easily to a man dressed most hilariously as a vampire. A *movie* vampire.

“Pet?” Lestat said, one golden eyebrow lifted. “Ah, no. Brian is our friend. He has worked for us for years, now. We are celebrating his birthday with him.”

“Indeed? I thought, perhaps, Lestat, that you were contemplating yet another addition to your little family.”

“No. Just a friend.” Lestat said, lightly. His eyes glinted dangerously, however.

Armand smiled sweetly.

“Well, one never knows. You have been known to be rather… capricious in the past.” He said.

“All too true. I beg your pardon, but is it any of your business who *we* have chosen to accompany us tonight? If you will excuse us?” Lestat laid his hand and my arm, and we moved past him.

“Armand?” Lestat said as we walked past, “Brian is our guest…and Marius’ as well. Mind your manners.”

When we had crossed the room, I leaned to him.

“You did not need to speak with him at all, you know.” I chided him gently.

“I didn’t need to avoid him, either, cheri. And I thought I should play nice for Marius’ sake.”

I snorted laughter, suddenly.

“What is it, Louis?” Lestat asked, curious.

“Imagine you telling Armand…or anyone…to mind their manners.” I said, still laughing. “And you immediately invading Daniel’s privacy the moment you spotted him.”

He shrugged.

“Just curious. He was not even aware of what I was doing.” He said.

The soft music that had been background, swelled a bit, and we heard the first strains of the Blue Danube waltz. Lestat looked expectantly at me, and I bowed low before him.

“May I have this dance, mon ange?” I asked.

The susurration of his elegant dress as he fell into a graceful curtsey.

“The pleasure is all mine….Your Majesty.” He said, looking up at me, blue eyes glinting through his golden lashes. His mouth quirked wickedly, and I raised him up and took him into my arms.


We moved together, our bodies as close as they could be with all the layers of clothing we both wore. Turning, whirling around the floor in that dizzying, beautiful dance, His eyes held mine captive, and the room faded around us, the world once again narrowed to just the two of us. We had not waltzed in a very long time. We brushed against others as we danced, but I tell you now, I could see nothing but him *feel* nothing but him. Lestat, with his hair elaborately done up on his head, and his neck graced with beautiful jewels. He was smiling at me, caught in the dance, the motion and the music, his eyes shining.

~~~~~
Part 3

(BRIAN POV)

When I heard the music, I turned to look out at the dance floor. I could see them, as though they stood apart from the rest of the people assembled. To me, they *did* stand out, beautiful, ethereal. Even among others of their kind, and I was easily ably to pick all of them out, Louis and Lestat shone. I was not the only one who looked at them. No one around me was talking anymore, everyone watched the kaleidoscope of color as the dancers moved about the floor. I wondered how many of the mortals in the room realized what sort of company they kept this evening. It was there…that singular look that they shared, and I knew from long experience that they had become lost in each other…that everything around them had faded to a soft blur. I was hyper-aware of details it seemed. A result, I knew of Lestat’s gift to me this evening. I could focus on things that were only before my eyes for a brief second…Lestat’s hand laid upon Louis’s shoulder as they passed by where I stood. A brief flash of Louis’ fangs as he smiled at Lestat. And the others. Marius dancing with a brown haired female vampire…Pandora I guessed. I had not been introduced to her.

“Do you waltz?” Came a soft voice. I turned to see Gabrielle gazing at me with iridescent eyes.

I offered her my arm, and led her to the floor. It had been a long time since I danced with a woman. The last time had probably been at my sister’s wedding. She felt very slight in my hands, as I turned across the floor with her. I was fascinated with her face. Lestat was very obviously her son, the resemblance was startling. The difference was in the eyes. I was uncomfortable with her….there was a definite coldness about her, though she smiled prettily enough, and her conversation was acerbic and amusing. When the dance was over, she presented her cheek to me for a kiss. I obliged, and she was gone, moving to greet yet another vampire, a female with dark red hair.

“I never thought to see you staring at a woman for so long.”

The voice at my ear caused me to jump slightly.

“It’s because she looks like *you*, mon lion. “ Louis said. “Brian, do you think you might keep ma maîtresse out of trouble for a few minutes? I should like to have a few words with our host.”

Louis handed Lestat’s hand over to me, and moved liquidly across the room towards Marius.

I watched him bemusedly.

“I’m guessing this is part of my birthday present?” I said, feeling foolish. The orchestra struck up again.

“You’re too clever by far.” Lestat answered. He moved into my arms, and for a brief moment I thought I might fall over or something. I recovered quickly, and danced with him. Danced with Lestat, giddy and breathless the whole time. When the dance was finished, he gave me a warm hug.

“Happy Birthday, Brian. “ He said. “Now, I think you should go and speak to your cellist friend. I see the orchestra is taking a break.” He smiled at me, and the swept off to where Louis stood, speaking with Marius.

~~~~~

(Lestat P.O.V.)

I moved across the room to Louis, my beautiful Louis, resplendent in his elegant costume, speaking to Marius. I had an idea that Brian would spend the night with his cellist friend, and I was glad for it. I sincerely wanted him to enjoy himself. I had watched earlier, as he danced with my mother, and thought that he was handling the whole mortal in a roomful of vampires thing pretty well.

Louis turned his head to look at me, extending his hand so that I could take it as I approached. I wondered how much longer we would be obliged to stay with the party. I wanted him, naked and squirming in my arms.

“Look, Louis.” I said, trying to distract myself. “Dracula has once again approached Brian. Perhaps the cellist hasn’t a chance.”

I was referring to the man dressed in the typical movie vampire costume. I thought it telling that Brian seemed to have to hold back his laughter. I caught Brian’s eye over the shoulder of his suitor and gave him a sardonic thumbs up. He looked quickly away, biting furiously at his lip.

“I’m thinking that it’s Dracula that hasn’t got a chance.” Louis said dryly, watching this little exchange. “He’s much too short, Lestat. Brian likes men that approximate your own stature. Surely you have noticed.”

“I simply cannot get over how you look, Lestat” Marius interrupted.

“I would have to agree.” Came a feminine voice. It was Jesse, dressed as a flapper from the Roaring 20’s.

“The short hair suits you.” I said as she hugged me.

“The gown suits *you*. Why do I find that odd?” She said. “And Louis. Very regal, I’m sure. I can’t believe you got him to go along with this.”

Louis shrugged.

“I have my ways.” He said, slipping his arm around my waist. I was, by this time, chafing to be alone with him, and snapping open my fan, I whispered as much into his ear.

“If you would excuse us?” Louis said smoothly, “I would like another dance with my beautiful partner.”

He put his arms around me, and we moved through the throng. He was laughing.

“What?” I said, quizzically.

“Not a subtle bone in your body, is there? I love you so.” He said. I wasn’t sure what he was referring to, I only knew that he was leading us towards our escape.


~~~~~

(Brian P.O.V.)

As it turned out the orchestra was not yet taking their break, and as I walked back to the buffet, I found myself once again face to face with the erstwhile vampire. It was funny, really, all the real ones in the room, and perhaps a handful of mortals *aware* of it.

The guy in vampire drag introduced himself as Brent. He seemed to take his rather conventional costume very seriously… wearing a pair of those glued-on fangs over his own teeth. They were too large for his mouth, and as a result he seemed to be having trouble speaking, what with all the extra saliva in his mouth. I certainly didn’t wish to insult anyone that Marius had invited to his home, but I had to wonder just who this person was. He was good looking enough, I supposed, though on the small side. He was quite obviously coming on to me despite my efforts to remain as neutral as possible…it was just too difficult to take anyone who sounded like Sylvester the Cat seriously.

I looked beyond his shoulder and found Lestat watching me with an amused smile. He gave me an exaggerated thumbs up and leaned his head to listen to something that Louis was saying to him. I looked quickly away, biting my lip hard so I wouldn’t laugh. Another dance was struck, and I watched Louis take Lestat into his arms. I couldn’t help but smile as I saw them dance their way toward one of the doors that led from the large room.

I was trying to figure out a way to ditch my good buddy Brent when he got the oddest look on his face. He’d been eating boiled shrimp, one after the other, and apparently the glue holding his fangs on was not up to the challenge of chewing. One of them came loose and he sheepishly excused himself, saying he’d be back in a moment.

Louis and Lestat were gone from the room, disappeared for the night I was certain. It was good in a way, for I would be much less distracted if my eye were not drawn again and again to them. I glanced up at the gallery, and saw that the musicians were, at last on a break. I made my way up a wide staircase and spotted him.

“Hello, Alex.” I said. He turned around to see who was talking to him. He gazed blankly at me for a moment, and then I was pleased to see him grin widely, his dark blue eyes running up and down, taking in my elaborate costume.

“Wow! Brian! I never pictured you as the pirate type before. You look great!” He came to me and gave me a warm hug. He stepped back to look at me once again. That wig…” He snickered, and wrapped one of the elaborate curls around his finger, “Can I buy you a drink, sailor?” He said. I groaned.

“Careful. One more clichéd line like that and I’ll have to run you through.” I said ominously, my hand on the hilt of the sword that hung weightily at my hip. I’d drawn it at the house, and it was quite real with an edge you could probably shave with. He smiled.

“As I recall, you’ve done something like that already a time or two.” He said, fingering the material of my
jacket. “I’m finished here at 1, if you would care to show me your…sword is it?”

I snorted.

“Sure, an’ it’s a cutlass, laddie.” I said, dredging up my father’s Kerry brogue. He smiled, and I felt a familiar tightening in my groin. I hadn’t seen him in a while, but I remembered he’d been great in the sack.


“So…we are on for the night?” He said, cutting through the nonsense. Another thing I liked about him.
I inclined my head in acknowledgement, and he laughed delightedly. “Will you be going back to the City or are you staying here for the night?” He looked around…the conductor was waving frantically at him from the gallery.

“I’ll be here. Go on, Alex, before you get fired.” I gave him a little shove.

“Yeah, right.” He said, rolling his eyes. He executed a clumsy salute, “Oh…and Brian…it might be interesting if you leave that wig on…”

He disappeared into the milling throng of people, and I went back downstairs. I saw Dracula scanning the crowd, ostensibly for me, from across the room. He spotted me before I could duck away and I was forced to endure his nattering about the ‘vampire culture’…his secret life, I suppose. I’m open-minded. If that’s what made him feel good, that was fine. I wanted no part of him, though, and finally I just told him so, and I left him to stare after me when I decided to take some air on the upper porch. I removed my beautiful claret coat with its gold brocade and laid it on one of the wrought iron chairs that graced the area. I wondered how in the world anyone could have possibly born wearing so many layers of clothing in southern Louisiana before air-conditioning had been invented. The long sleeves alone with the layers of lace at the cuffs and throat were enough to kill a person, never mind a jacket and an equally cumbersome waistcoat. Still, I had to admit the clothes made me feel elegant.


(Louis P.O.V.)

Even after we left the ballroom, we encountered several more people who just had to stop and have words with us, several of them mortals with whom we had business dealings. Lestat greeted the senior partner of the law firm that handled our real estate courteously. The man looked blankly at Lestat for a moment, and then registered who he was. It was most amusing to see him struggle to assimilate *this* Lestat with the man that he normally saw. To give him credit, he handled it with considerable aplomb.

I could tell that Lestat was also highly amused, because he was not quite so impatient to rush back to our rooms. He took several moments to compliment the attorneys’ costume, a creditable Dickensian look; to my eye the man always put me in mind of Mr. Fezziwig anyway. Lestat’s fulsome compliments given complete with fluttering fan and alluringly lowered golden lashes had poor Mr. Marshall red-faced and sputtering, and I gently excused the both of us before his blood pressure could soar any higher.

When we finally entered our suite, Lestat leaned back against the door, pealing laughter. I watched him, smiling.

“You nearly caused him to burst a blood vessel, you know.” I chided him.

“Louis, the look on his face was priceless!” Lestat said, his laughter tapering off.

“What can you expect, with you flirting outrageously with him over, of all things, a fan. Really, Lestat, you have no idea how you * look*, my darling, nor do you realize the force of your considerable charm.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Flattery is it? Well, Louis, you know what a vain creature I am.” He snapped the fan open again, and fluttered it madly. “Continuent, votre majesty.” He said, throatily. I had to laugh. He smiled back, and tossed the fan on one of the beautiful chairs that graced the sumptuous room.

I went to the armoire, beautifully made from oak, the inside lined with aromatic cedar. I was very conscious of Lestat watching me. Removing my jacket, I hung it carefully inside, along with the heavy waistcoat. I turned then to look at him, loosening my cravat.

How exquisite he was, with the jewels sparkling in his ears and at his throat. He moved into my arms and my hands went around his waist, cinched in by the corset. Delicious.

“Are you uncomfortable, my darling?” I asked him, looking into his azure eyes. “Perhaps we should remove some of these confining clothes?”

My hands were at his back, feeling the long row of tiny, cloth covered buttons, each hooked through its own loop. A very authentic costume, no zippers in evidence. His hands were on me as well, busy with the buttons of my loose shirt, releasing them and sliding the shirt over my shoulders. We reached the bed, and I pushed him down upon it, and dove beneath the wide skirt of the gown. His long, muscular legs were encased in black silk stockings, tied at his lower thighs with lacy ribbon. I caressed his leg, kissing the exposed flesh above the satin garter. Not too much further up his leg, he was actually wearing pantalets. Obviously he had been looking forward to *this* part of our evening.

I pulled my head and torso from beneath his skirts, and crept up onto his lap. Lestat leaned to me taking my mouth in a long, hot kiss. His hands stroked my hair, loosening the elaborate curls Clive had arranged. I reached behind him, slowly releasing each tiny button from its loop, until the front of the gown was loose. I pulled this down around his shoulders, and he raised his hips, allowing me to slide the gown free. He was still in a froth of petticoats and a silky chemise, the delicate straps looking incongruous yet highly intoxicating against his wide shoulders.

Lestat pushed me back, and I let him get to his feet. He walked slowly over to a chair positioned by the fire, the creamy petticoats swishing seductively against his body. Sitting erect in the chair, he fixed me with a smoking glance, and reached his hands to his golden hair, removing the pins and combs that held it in place. Dropping the fastenings to the floor, he raked his fingers through the pale tangle, and then shook the loose hair to fall, rippling, upon his shoulders. The sight of this brought my cock to full and painful rigidity. Taking up a hairbrush he began brushing out the blonde strands of his hair. I kicked my shoes off, ridiculous high-heeled confections, across the floor. I was still wearing the loose rhinegraves and hose.

I knelt at his feet, and slid the petticoats up over his silk-clad legs, so that they were bunched in his lap. He put the hairbrush down, and I saw he was focused completely on what I was doing. I slid my hands up over his silk-sheathed legs, so captivating, the feel of the taut, black silk over his golden flesh. Bringing my hands back down, I took his foot and examine the shoe he was wearing. Dyed leather, a deep indigo blue, butter-soft with high narrow heels. They were laced with satin ribbon, and stitched with tiny seed pearls. I held his foot up with my hand cupped around his calf, and slowly untied the ribbon. Sliding the shoe from his foot, I rubbed my hand gently along the instep, my thumb pressing the high arch.

I looked up at him. His eyes were slitted with pleasure, and I could hear his heart, beating rapidly, though he looked relaxed. I lifted his foot and put his toes in my mouth, sucking delicately on them, through the silk stocking, my thumb still stroking. I pushed my tongue between his toes, stretching the silk, my eyes never leaving his face. His breathing became shallow, rapid, and I saw a light dew of bloodsweat jeweled upon his upper lip. Nipping down on his smallest toe, and ran my tongue along the side of his foot, circling his anklebone, making the fabric wet with my saliva. Licking the back of his heel, putting my mouth over the high arch, sucking. I let go of the foot, and gently removed the other shoe, and paid the same attentions to his right foot, wetting the silk, watching how it adhered to his skin. Such elegant feet. I moved my hands back to his left leg, sliding my fingers up and loosened the silk ribbon garter. I smoothed the stocking down over his leg, letting the silk pool about his ankle. I repeated this with his right leg, enjoying the shivers that wracked his flesh.

I stood and extended my hand to him. Lestat. My angel. He took it and I pulled him to his feet. The petticoats fell down over his naked legs, and he stepped out of the stockings, and into my embrace. This was so intoxicating. The corset was cinched tight at his waist, flaring at his chest. I felt the stays in the body of the corset. I turned him around, and untied the lacing at the top of the garment, and loosened the strings all the way down. I removed the chemise with a simple tear, and pulled it from him. I could see the red marks the constricting garment left upon his flesh. The corset fell away, and I turned him again to face me, running my hands over his ribs, his back. His mouth met mine in a delicate, questing kiss.

His eyes, the pupils dilated so wide, leaving only the smallest rim of violet blue. I cupped his ass through the stiff, rustling petticoats, and felt his hands, greedy, pulling my shirt from me, roaming the skin of my back, clutching at my arms. I could feel his erection, insistent and hard, pressed against me.

"Gods, Louis, what you do to me, " He whispered.

His hands searched for the ties to the rhinegraves, impatiently tugging them loose. Once loosened they fell to my feet, the hose along with them and I stepped away, wearing only the incongruous modern underwear that I’d donned to mollify my volatile lion earlier. He tore them away from me and his eyes raked me… gods… the heat of his glance. I fell to my knees before him, wrapping my arms about his hips, pressing my face to his flat belly. The petticoats rustled as I rubbed my face against him. I found the little buttons at the back and released them, one at a time, slowly, breathing in his scent and feeling his hands in my hair. How he trembled, my angel. I moved my face back, and the petticoats fell to the floor. The thin fabric of these lacy pantalets barely contained his straining cock, that beautiful erection, clearly limned beneath the sheer fabric. I put my mouth over the tip, pressing my tongue against him and he gasped sharply. I slid my fingers under the fabric, holding his ass, kneading slowly. I pulled my hands back, causing the fabric to tighten and I ran my tongue down the shaft of his outlined cock. The fabric tore, and came apart at the seams on either hip. I pulled the shreds away and took him into my mouth.

His hips bucked forward, and he pushed into my mouth, and then he took a step backward pulling me with him, as he fell back onto the chair. I managed to keep him in my mouth, and once he was still, I begin making love to his cock with my tongue, holding the length of him in my hand as I circled the tip, pushing into the tiny opening. I looked up at his face. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back. I could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he panted. I took him fully into my mouth, into my throat, and then I pulled back slowly, nearly releasing him before I went down on him again. And again. My arms were around his waist, holding him tight to my face as I sucked on my treasure, letting my tongue snake around him. He was growling, and his hands were restless, moving through my hair.

I moved up and down upon you, scraping my teeth lightly over his flesh, reveling in the taste of his skin, the hard silkiness of his beautiful cock. He was thrusting himself into my mouth now, and I let him do this, let him take my mouth, keeping up a steady pressure, sucking as he continued to thrust into me. His hands left my hair, and gripped the arms of the chair, and his body stiffened as he gave one more hard thrust. Lestat’s orgasm…ah, his burning essence … I let the taste flood my mouth pulling back a little so that I had him on my tongue, drinking him in, swallowing and suckling from him, greedy for him. Delirious.


My arms were still around his waist, when I finally released him from my mouth, and lay my face on his belly. The taste of his sweetness was still on my tongue, in the back of my throat. His hand left the arm of the chair, where I saw his fingers had punched through the upholstery, and curled around my head, stroking me softly. Still feeling that bliss from his blood, I raised my head, and caught his eyes with mine. He was smiling. Sweet dazed little smile. I got up, and extended my hand to him.

"We haven't even gotten into the bed, yet, Mon Couer. " I said, as I pulled him to his feet. His arms encircled me in a strong embrace, and I returned it. We stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by flounces and lace, and glittering clothing, holding one another, and then we moved toward the bed.

Part 4

(Brian P.O.V.)


I leaned on the railing of the porch, listening to the sounds of the party, now grown raucous, as the mostly mortal contingent of guests became more and more inebriated. I hadn’t had much to drink, still feeling the effects of Lestat’s gift, a drink more potent than the fire of any liquor ever distilled. I still had that subtly enhanced awareness, and this time it felt somehow different. I thought it might be because it wasn’t that long since the last time he’d left me some of his blood. It wasn’t as though there were some sort of schedule or anything, at least not that I could discern, but there was always at least a four week span, sometimes longer, in between. The last time Lestat left me the filled vial had been a mere ten days earlier.

There was a breeze, and I could smell rain on it, and the perfume of flowers. Did he have any idea how he had changed my life? Probably not. There were times when he showed me a great deal of attention, treating me as a friend, inviting my opinion on things, the ’59 Impala he’d recently purchased for instance. At other times I felt the sort of warm affection I associated with people toward their well-loved pets. More often than not, though, I knew that I was barely noticed. This no longer held the sting it once did, for I have come to realize a lot of things about Lestat…about both of them. Their existence hinges on them together and all else is just window dressing. I’m happy enough to be noticed at all, especially by *him* and believe me I know how pathetic that sounds. Still, I think that any mortal that was in close contact with creatures such as these might feel much the same, if they didn’t go mad first, anyway. I know that sort of thing has happened before.

The first time he’d given me his blood he’d handed it to me. The little bottle was still warm from his hand. It had been a rainy night, hot and humid, and I was getting ready to go out and meet some friends for a drink, when he knocked at my door. I’d opened it, thinking that it was Kevin, a good friend, come to hurry me along.

I closed my eyes, smelling the rain and the flowers and I remembered. Lestat stood in the doorway, the rain gleaming in his bright hair, and a little smile on his perfect lips. He didn’t give me an explanation. He simply placed the vial in my hand, closing my fingers over it. At the time I didn’t know what he had given me, because all I could think of was the way the skin of his hand felt, and how his eyes held mine for a brief, but endless span of time.

“Drink it, Brian. “ Was all he said. He squeezed my hand once before he released it. “Have a nice time tonight.”
He smiled again, and I smiled back, a little confused. He left without another word, and I closed the door.

The bottle was an ornate little thing, glass and chased silver, with a little silver stopper. I looked at it closely and saw that it was not red and silver as I had first thought…the ruby red that seemed to glow was contained *within* the little flask. Trembling, I closed my fingers around it, and immediately called Kevin, and begged off for the evening. He was concerned…I rarely missed a Friday out…but I told him there had been a sudden change of plans. It had happened before, and he knew the capricious whims of my employers, so he just said to join them later should I have the free time.

I only remember the conversation with Kevin because I remember *everything* about that night. I hung up the phone and went into the living room. I sat down on the comfortable couch, and opened my hand again. The little bottle was beautiful…round, enclosed in a little scrolled jacket of silver. I opened it, and brought it to my nose, sniffing experimentally.

There was a scent. Yes…subtle and exotic. I recognized it. I’d smelt it before, the smell of *them*. This was huge to me. I felt a child-like religious awe staring at the wee bottle in my hand. Like a communicant I contemplated it. Praying if you will. I held it near my mouth and upended it over my outstretched tongue. I hardly know how to describe the taste of it, rich and burning and somehow avid. I would do anything for him.
Understand something. What he gives me is a very small amount; it coats the tongue, barely enough to actually swallow. No immortal life here, only some sort of protective gesture or territorial marker…I’m not really certain which, nor do I care. It’s enough that he gives it to me.

There was sound behind me, and a group of revelers came outside laughing and talking loudly as they passed in their varied costumes. I could hear music still playing inside, so I knew Alex was not yet free to join me.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

The skin on my arms crawled as though a very cold wind had blown over me. A vampire. I knew it before I even turned to look.

“I am, yeah.” I said.

Dressed in sumptuous clothes that looked medieval to my untutored eye, I knew who he was before he introduced himself.

“I did not have the pleasure of making your acquaintance when you arrived earlier with the very lovely Monsieur de Lioncourt. Who would have thought Lestat would wear such a daring costume? I am Armand.”

He didn’t offer his hand and I was somehow glad of it. I didn’t want to touch him.

“Brian Callahan.” I said, watching him somewhat warily. The other people that had come onto the porch were at the far end now, and I was pretty much alone with him. He seemed friendly enough, and I supposed that Lestat would have told me if I needed to be careful of anyone.

“Yes, I know. Marius told me who you were. Happy Birthday, by the way.” He smiled guilelessly at me.

“Thanks.”

This was more bizarre than talking to Brent the would-be vampire. I had the uncomfortable feeling that he was observing me much more closely than it appeared.

“You have worked for Lestat for some years now, yes? I have seen you before.”

His remark was disconcerting.

“Yes, I’ve worked for them for a while. Have we met before?”


“No. I saw you in New York some years back. At a gallery opening.”

He mentioned the artists’ name and I remembered the time in New York. Something had happened between Louis and Lestat, though I never knew exactly what it was. Had it something to do with Armand? I suddenly decided I shouldn’t be speaking to him at all. He smiled again, a sly twist to his mouth.

“There you are!” It was Alex, standing at the open doors to the porch. “I though I saw you come this way. I was afraid you’d left.”

He looked curiously at Armand.

“I see you have plans.” Armand said. “It was my special pleasure to have met you Brian.” He nodded to Alex and went back into the house.

“Who was that?” Alex asked, watching with me as Armand walked away. I blinked.

“No one.” I said, turning to look at him. “Are you done for the night?”

He moved close to me, smiling.

“All finished. You look pretty good with really long hair, Brian, but the curls…I don’t know. Sort of like Captain Hook, isn’t it?”

I laughed.

“I thought Captain Morgan. Same thing I guess. Are you hungry? Want a drink?” I put my arms around him and pulled him in close.

“A drink would be nice.“ His mouth was very close. I brushed his lips with mine.

~~~~~

(Lestat P.O.V)

Louis pulled me with him to the bed, pushing me backwards and crawling atop me.

"Did you enjoy yourself this evening, my own?" He chuckled warmly "I mean at the ball, earlier."

"I did enjoy myself, yes. I was a little surprised to see Gabrielle. I don’t think she would come. I enjoyed spending the evening dancing with *you*, Mon Cher, most of all."

There was a time when being among the others of our loose coven seemed very important. Gazing at the top of Louis’ head, and feeling his warm breath on my neck, I cannot now think *why*.

"And you, Cher? " I asked him

"I was here with you, my darling. Of course I enjoyed myself." He murmured against my neck. "I am enjoying this even more, however..."

He seized my bottom lip in his teeth, pulling and sucking, running his hands over my arms, and grinding his hips seductively against me. It never stops, the wanting. His aggressive suckling and kissing was sweet torment, and it wasn’t long until I was squirming and moaning beneath him.

How many beds? How many nights spent in the throes of passion, swathed in silk and blood, striving to take one another to that higher place where we are not two creatures, but one, souls and bodies entwined and held in ecstatic and inarticulate surrender? Physical climax that serves to bind and weave our thoughts together, muscles striving and blood flowing, pain and pleasure spiraling until the sweetness of it is hardly bearable.

I felt him push into me. I drew my leg up to increase his penetration, gasping at his urgent plunging, filled by him, his blood-slicked cock an instrument of torturous pleasure. Gradually he slowed his thrusts, his breathing ragged, his eyes hot with his lust. Raising up on his knees and he pulled my legs up, one a time over his shoulders. I twisted my head, looking for our reflections, but this was not our bed… not our room and there was only the mirror over the ornate bureau. I looked up at him and his eyes captured mine. He slid his hands under me and spread me open a little wider and pulled back from me slowly…almost out of me. A long breathless moment as he held me there, expectant. Then, slowly…so slowly he worked himself back into me. His hands holding me still so that I could not push my hips to meet him, slow and demanding, his eyes locked to mine.

Louis did this again. And again. Holding me still and breathless with his eyes and his will, his hands and his cock. His pale skin gleamed pinkish with bloodsweat and his black hair shadowed his face as he leaned slightly forward, hilted in me.

“Lestat…tell me what you want.”

He released his grip on my ass and ran his beautiful hands slowly over the skin of my thighs from knees to groin and back in hypnotic rhythm. I gripped his cock with my inner muscles, panting and trembling on the edge of climax though he was not moving inside me at all. The indentations his shining nails made as the traveled my flesh seemed to me to be unbearably erotic.

“I have what I want, my own. I have you, as you have me.” I said in tones so low I could barely hear myself.

He shifted very slightly on his knees, and that small movement resonated inside me. He seemed to swell within me somehow. There are no more hollow places in me anymore, I thought, and I did not mean just physically. My eyes blurred with tears.

************

Interlude


Outside their door, he stood, faced twisted with hate and pain. Some of it came through to him; their shields were forgotten to a degree in their transcendence. Always….*always* Lestat had his way. How was this possible?

*********




(Louis P.O.V.)

I had been so lost in the feeling of him surrounding me, his enveloping heat and the dizzying knowledge of his imminent climax that his answer to my question, spoken in order to further arouse him, took me unawares. His eyes misted with tears suddenly and then he cried out, startlingly loud, climaxing with amazing force, though I had not moved at all. His spasming muscles brought me with him, a shattering release that blinded me. My hands fell away from his legs and he somehow moved them from my shoulders, pulling me to him, and clutching at me fiercely.

Rocked with wave after wave of sweetness, unable to see and barely able to breathe in his embrace, I sought his throat, listening to him weeping and crooning to me. With the rush of his blood over my tongue came the rush of his thoughts, swirled emotion where only one thing seemed clear in the welter. I could see his whispered thought like a shining gold thread, my blindness gone… …while his own dear voice still murmured my name and the tender endearments he loves to use.

~~~~~

(Brian P.O.V.)


Alex had his drink, and we spent another three-quarters of an hour or so mingling and enjoying the party. I saw Dracula looking a bit chagrined and I discreetly pointed him out to Alex. To my surprise he turned quickly away, and leaned his head onto my shoulder, stifling his laughter.

“Oh *him*” Alex said, still wheezing laughter. “You haven’t been out much lately, have you? He cruises every bar in town…thinks he’s into leatherboys but from what I’ve heard from…well, from several people, he’s a lightweight. Lots of money, though, so he makes the rounds. He’s not bad looking but he’s a bore. Probably that big sword of yours got him all worked up.”

I looked at him curiously, and he gave me impudent grin.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no…I never fucked him.”

I laughed.

“Well, you still have a chance. He looks kinda lonely don’t you think?” We could ask him to join us.” I said.

“Oh I don’t think so.” He said, moving close to me and sliding his hand under the flared jacket and waistcoat to caress my ass. “I want you all to myself.”

I had, of course been joking. I liked Alex. I’d been attracted to him at first because of his tousled blonde good looks, his blue eyes and his beautiful hands. A musician’s hands, strong and finely made, with long, tapered fingers. When I got to know him, though, I found that he was intelligent and fun and quick witted, with a passion for his profession. He was young…26 or so, but well established as a musician.

He looked around.

“I didn’t get much of a look around here…this place is amazing. How’d you get an invitation?”

He didn’t mean this badly. This was not my normal circle of friends and he knew it.

The host is a friend of Lestat’s.” I said, with a grin. “It’s my birthday, you know. Lestat and Louis thought I should go to a party.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Well, Happy Birthday, Brian. Why don’t we go and start our own celebration?”

He looked around a little doubtfully.

“Do you have any idea where you are staying?”

As a matter of fact, I did. Shortly after we had arrived I asked one of the staff where my room was. I was directed to a rather harried woman who was in charge of the guest list. I repeated my question, and also asked where Monsieur Lioncourt’s room was, as I had come with him and Monsieur Pointe du Lac. She dispatched me to the second floor with one of her underlings.

As a matter of course, I checked their room carefully, as I would have done anywhere. Not a necessary thing, but I did it anyway. It was, of course, more than adequate…the house belonged to a vampire, after all. Their room was situated in the interior of the house…there were no windows. My room was across the hall from theirs, and I was pleasantly surprised at the sumptuous appointments within.

“Yeah, I know where the room is. Are you ready to retire?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He took my hand.

When we reached the upper floor I found the corridor with no trouble. As we turned the corner, I stopped short, and Alex looked at me questioningly. There, down the hall standing directly outside Lestat and Louis’ room, stood Armand. His back was to us, but when he heard us…or perhaps smelled us, he turned quickly around. He looked angry as he turned, but his face immediately smoothed when he saw us. He inclined his head once, and then he walked further down the hall and entered another of the rooms.

“Your little buddy again.” Alex remarked.

I shook my head slowly.

“He’s not my buddy, “ I said rather more sharply than I meant to. “Sorry. I only met him a little while ago actually. Come on.”

We went into my room, and Alex exclaimed over a split of Dom he found blushed with droplets of moisture, nestled into a silver bucket of ice. He popped the cork, and poured, handing me one of the elegant flutes.

He toasted my birthday and we sipped the champagne. I watched him as he looked about the beautiful room, trying to focus on him. I was troubled by what I’d seen in the hall, though, and resolved to speak to Lestat about it.

I took off the beautiful wine-dark jacket and the belt with the sword, placing them carefully on one of the chairs. Alex turned from the window. Watching me. I smiled, and took the heavy wig from my head and placed it gingerly on the bureau. I was sure that the thing was very expensive, but I didn’t have a clue what to do with it. I ran my hands through my hair, damp but at not looking too bad for the experience. Alex came to me and put his arms around my neck kissing me with a good deal of passion.

I found myself responding to him eagerly, and we spent a few hilarious minutes getting me out of the elaborate waistcoat and figuring out how the high cravat was fastened.


“Several hundred points for realism, Brian.” He murmured when we’d finally gotten the shirt off. “Where did you get this costume?” He was running his hands over my nipples, erect from his attention and the freezing air in the room. We’d turned the air conditioning up when we’d come in. “Custom made.” I answered, taking my turn at freeing him from his shirt, a much easier proposition.

His mouth was warm and tasted pleasantly of champagne. We made our way to the bed, kissing and fondling one another, gradually becoming more passionate. I sat up to take off my boots, as he slithered out of his pants. When I stood to attempt to free myself from the breeches I was arrested where I stood by a piercing cry. I knew the sound. I knew the voice. It was Lestat.

“What the hell was *that*?” Alex said, looking toward the door.

I knew only too well what precipitated such sounds from him, and if I had been was aroused before, I was now hard to the point of pain. I squirmed out of the snug breeches and turned to Alex. He pulled me down onto him, the ringing cry he’d asked about forgotten.


~~~~~

(Lestat P.O.V.)

I rocked him, murmuring to him, and feeling his mind touch. He suckled slowly, still buried inside me.

“My baby, Louis, darling, Louis…” Whispering his name, my hands in his shadowy hair. “…toujours…”

He was moving inside me again, stimulating a spreading heated pleasure. We undulated, entwined, and he released my throat, to look into my eyes.

“My love….my only love. How can I please you, Mon Ange?”

Lazy, beautiful smile. He expected no answer, for he knew well enough what I was feeling. I thought I would answer anyway.

“Since fucking my ass seems to be the order of the evening, perhaps we can see how odd my walk will be upon our leave-taking tomorrow?”

His mouth was hovering inches from mine, and he stilled his hips.

“A challenge issued, Lestat?” Louis asked. He slid his tongue into my mouth.

“Call it a request. I want to be fucked literally into oblivion.” I grinned at him.
“That way when we wake up tomorrow night you’ll still be inside me.”

I wiggled my ass a little. To my surprise he withdrew himself from me, but before I could protest he hushed me.

“Would I deny you?” He said. “You know I would not. Now, Monsieur, on your belly if you please.”

I did as he asked, tingling with anticipation.

He touched me, his hands feather light on the skin of my back. He ran them over me, reading my flesh and leaving trails of warmth.

He cupped my ass, kneading and squeezing.

“Ahhh.” He breathed. “The order of the evening.”

I felt him position himself between my legs, pushing them apart. His fingers slid up the inside of my thighs. A rustle of sheets and his tongue followed the fingers of his left hand. He rolled my balls in one hand and began sucking strongly at the place where my leg met my ass. Not breaking the skin...no blood drawn that way, with a slash of his fangs, but blood forced through the pores of the skin. I was familiar with this, those purple suck-marks he branded me with. I ground into the mattress, the friction at once delicious and tormenting.

He let go of my skin.

“Poor, lonely cock. What will become of my treasure?” He murmured.

He licked at my balls, and laved the tender perineum. I was quivering for him and he spread my cheeks apart, bestowing a kiss on that spasming place before sliding his tongue into me and exploring me with that little muscle, careless with his fangs so that I could feel my blood flowing. He pressed his face between my cheeks and began the hard sucking just above that achy place he’d left.

Poor lonely cock indeed.

He slid two fingers up into me as he sucked and stroked me inside. And was I quiet and passive throughout this treatment? No. I twisted as much as he allowed me to. Panting. Softly moaning as he attended fully to what he was doing. Gasping as he slid another finger into me; thinking of that time I’d taken his hand into me. I groaned, closing my eyes.

I craved him…I wanted the violent pleasure I knew him to be entirely capable of giving me. Again took his mouth from me.

“All good things to those who wait.” He whispered, adding a third finger. “Do you know, my own, inside you feel like molten velvet?”

He sank his fangs suddenly into the bruised place and I cried out. He lapped the blood, and rubbed his face against me. Worked his fingers further into me.

“So smooth, Lestat. I can see the light glinting on your skin…” He said softly, his lips moving on my blood-damp skin.

I felt myself growling, arching to his hand and his mouth.

“I can smell you, angel, I can smell how you want me…”

Louis’ voice, laced with a growl.

“Please, Louis…” I said raggedly.

“I will please you, darling. Yes, I will…”

He withdrew his fingers and spread me open, lapping at me, kissing me. His tongue slipped into me, and he sank his fangs again. The pain was fierce…the pleasure sublime. His mouth was opened wide around me, fangs buried still, his hard white teeth also breaking flesh. I couldn’t move, held the way I was. A sound broke from me even as I climaxed yet again, shredding the mattress with my hands. He released me, and pulled me seemingly in one motion, and speared me with his cock, driving deeply into me in one strong thrust.

He fucked me hard, and slow, choosing his own rhythm, and I begged him to do it, to do it *hard*…Break me. Come inside me. Hold me. Hold me. Hold me. His thrusting became savage…we could feel the dawn coming, and I could feel *Louis* coming, and then the slow, black paralysis, like we were falling together in a dream. When the deathsleep overtook me, his name was in my mouth.


(Brian P.O.V.)

Minutes before dawn, when I had Alex writhing and moaning softly beneath me, I heard him again, his cry keening and sharp. I stiffened and drove hard into ….into…



Alex one last time before spending myself in him. I dropped my weight onto him, shivering a little. The room seemed entirely too cold. After a moment I withdrew from him, kissing him on the shoulder. I got up and went into the bathroom to get rid of the condom.

I splashed some water on my face, and went back into the bedroom, pausing to turn the thermostat up a little so that we wouldn’t freeze to death. I could see the pale sky through the window and went to draw the curtains. One effect of Lestat’s gift was a sensitivity to the sunlight and a curious lethargy in the morning. It passed after a day or two.

“Come to bed, Brian.” Alex’ voice was sleepy.

I turned and looked at him. He’s such a pretty boy, Alex. I went and crawled in next to him. His body was warm and I let him put his arms around me. Kissed him and murmured back to him when he spoke to me in a drowsy whisper. I fell asleep quickly, and I dreamed about Lestat watching me fuck Alex, his disconcerting eyes touched with faint amusement.


I didn’t stir until nearly five in the afternoon, coming awake with a jolt, feeling hollow with hunger. Alex was gone. I sat up switched on the lamp on the night table. There was a note from Alex, brief, saying he was sorry he had to leave, but he had to work. He’d call, it said. He would, and we would go to dinner, and perhaps go to bed again.

I saw my costume, still draped across the chair, and frowned. I didn’t want to put it back on. I went to the large armoire, and looked inside. There was a small valise standing by the armoire, and I knew that I had been anticipated. Jeans and a soft cotton shirt, socks and underwear. A pair of shoes. All new. All my size. I showered and dressed myself.


When I went downstairs, I was shown to the large verandah where a long table had been set up, stocked with a quantity of food. It was warm out, but not stifling, a fresh breeze blowing. I filled a plate and sat by myself at one of the small tables set there. There were other people eating, and I heard their muted conversation. I listened with half an ear, looking out at the beautifully landscaped grounds and watching twilight steal over the sky. I couldn’t taste the food, really, though I am sure it was good…I was just so *hungry*. A little anxious too, recalling the way I’d seen Armand standing outside their door.

They’d be awake by now.

Waiting was a large part of my job. I was long used to it. They could come out at any moment, wanting to leave, or we might remain here for days. I had learned to take things moment by moment with them.

From behind me, Lestat’s voice.

“Brian….you are our guest still. We will leave when you are ready.”

He and Louis sat down with me, and I saw Lestat wince a little as he did so. He grinned at me, shrugging at my raised eyebrow.

“What are you eating?”

Lestat often asked me questions about food. What it tasted like, the textures. If he had things he wanted to discuss with me, we would go to a restaurant, and he would pore over the menu, choosing things for me to eat. Sniffing at the plates when they arrived, grimacing over most of them, especially cooked flesh. He enjoyed the scents of wine and fresh fruits. Shellfish did not seem to bother him, nor cooked vegetables. He found the scents of coffee and chocolate and jasmine tea pleasing.

“Mussels in a white wine sauce. Palm hearts in vinegar. Some fruit.” I answered. "We can leave whenever you want."

He plucked a grape from my plate and pushed his fingernail into it, inhaling the sweet scent.

“Please finish eating. You seem to be hungry. Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

I was looking intently at him as I ate, thinking again of how he’s looked in his costume last night. It had been startling to say the least. He looked like his usual beautiful self, dressed in his favored black jeans, quite worn, and soft shirt of some shiny, slippery material…last night’s transformation had been extraordinary.

“I had a great time. Thanks again, both of you.”

Not an effusive thanks, but I knew he would become impatient with that because he didn’t expect that from me. He smiled, placing his hand over Louis’. Louis nodded, focusing briefly on me as though he had just noticed me. His green eyes shifted back to Lestat almost immediately.

"I would like to say goodbye to Marius, but I think he’s holed up with that fledgling of his. I can hear that accursed piano from here.” Lestat remarked.

I couldn’t hear it, of course. I continued eating, knowing that no answer was expected.

“ Just call to him. He’ll come out. You needn’t go looking for him.” Louis said practically.


He must have done just that for I had no sooner finished eating than Marius came from within the house.

“Leaving so soon. Lestat? I had hoped you and Louis…and Brian of course might stay for a few days.” He nodded politely in my direction.

“Thank you, but no. We had a wonderful time, however. You always did throw a good party,” Lestat said.

“Your car will be brought around directly. I do hope we will see a bit more of you.”

He embraced them both, kissing them on both cheeks in the French manner. He did the same to me, thanking me for attending, and saying that he would have our costumes attended to and returned in a few days. I was grateful for that, for the wonderful clothing *had* been a birthday present. I wanted to keep it.

We walked round to the front of the house to wait for the car. As they engaged in conversation, I saw Armand, looking from the second floor window. He moved away as though he’d seen me looking at him. The car came round and we got in.

In the car, on the way back to New Orleans, I told them about Armand. Louis did not react at all, and all Lestat did was snort in a derisive way, waving dismissively. I felt relieved….I thought there might be some anger on Lestat’s part. I knew there was no love lost between him and Armand…I remembered all to well the clash in New York some years ago.

(Lestat P.O.V.)


I dismissed what Brian told me about Armand…on the surface anyway. I sensed Brian’s anxiousness as he related what he had seen, going to his room the evening before with his musician in tow. He seemed much relieved after he’d finished. Louis remained impassive, but I felt an imperceptible tightening of his hand laid upon my own. He knew my feelings, and there was no further need for elaboration. It had all been done to death, really.

I loathed Armand.

I drew Brian into conversation about the party, and being relaxed he regaled us with several amusing stories about things that he had seen. Even Louis had to smile when Brian told us about Dracula losing his teeth, and how he’d spent half the night dodging the man. By the time we arrived home, I was not inclined to actually feel dismissive. He must have been very involved with his voyeurism to not hear two mortals coming up behind him. Brian had mentioned the look of anger he’d seen…stating in fact that it was for that reason he felt he should mention it at all.

Brian bade us both good night, thanking us once more for the evening out. I was pleased that he’d liked our little surprise. He opened the gate to the carriageway and paused for a moment to look back at us, a sweet smile on his handsome face. He ducked his head suddenly and went inside the gate, closing and locking it behind him. I could hear his footsteps receding as I followed Louis into our home.

We went to our room, and wordlessly undressed one another. I got into bed, and Louis crawled in after, wrapping himself around me. I held him tightly to me, feeling a need to be protective of him. It bothered me that I had not known the little beast had been out there. I should have felt something.


“If I never see that wretch again, Louis, it’ll be too soon.” I said, after a while.

“Don’t speak of him. Not here, my love…he has no place here.” Louis said, his face under my hair.

I bit back the words that wanted tumble forth, because he was right. It wasn’t over, though, and somehow things had changed, the night of the masked ball. Armand had upped the ante.

Masks off, I thought.

FIN