Rating: X
Warning: Slash, nothing but slash, written - as SilverHawk once put it with such admirable frankness - only for the purpose of having Louis and Lestat "screwing around"
Spoilers: Merrick
Disclaimers: This is a piece of non-profit fan fiction (naturally, who would pay for this???) and is not meant to infringe on the copyright of MATER or her publishers.

Comments: Always welcome!



Sweet dreams are made of this -
Who am I to disagree -
I travelled the world and the seven seas -
Everybody's looking for something …

Eurythmics



Last night I had the strangest dream - or was it a dream at all? Maybe you can explain what happened to me …

In this dream I abruptly awoke from my sleep in the middle of the night. I was startled when I suddenly realized that somebody or something was in my room. My body became tense, cold fear rising in me. I tried to open my eyes but somehow I couldn't. I felt paralysed: 'my God, what's going on here?'

'Ssshhh, you must not be afraid', I heard a voice in my head. So soft and soothing was this voice that I calmed down a bit. Finally, I managed to open my eyes. From the shadowy corner near the window a figure was rising from the old chair. With smooth elegant movements he was approaching me. Yes, it was a man, a tall and slender man. Like a dancer he moved. Long dark hair was flowing down his shoulders.

In this moment the moon had wandered around the house and its full light shone through the long windows. It was then that I saw his face. I gasped. He looked pale, unnaturally pale. Not like a man but like those old statues I had once tried to fix on paper in galleries or museums. His face a sublime white like the faces of those sculptures made of marble or alabaster. But this was not a statue, definitely not, he was moving - breathing. And his eyes - no, they were not closed like the eyes of those marble gods or heroes - they were shining even in this darkness - a brilliant green.

"Are you… are you a ghost?" I stuttered hoarsely. He smiled, a bit amused. "No, I am certainly not a ghost. Look at me, I am flesh and blood like you, although … "

A word came up from the depths of my memories, out of long-forgotten childhood tales of mystery and imagination. " You 're a …? I did not dare to say it loud, lest that all of a sudden his beautiful face might change into a terrifying grimace.

"What do you want from me?"

"As I said, you do not have to be afraid. I did not come for your blood …"

I swallowed hard: "No?"

"No, I have been watching you for quite a while now…"

"You've been watching? Have you been here - before?" Again there was this eerie feeling: 'what could this creature possibly want from me?'

"I have seen your paintings and sculptures at an exhibition down in Toulouse. And I became curious about the person who created them. I really admire your art. There is so much strength and - passion in your work. You must know these are qualities I have almost lost."

He sighed.

"You saw a ghost in me and, yes, it is true. All those years I have lived like a ghost. I could not come to terms with my guilt, with the loss of someone I dearly loved. I even wanted to put an end to all my pain and despair. But my friends they brought me back. They made me even stronger than before and I truly enjoyed their company, their friendship, their love… But, you know, with our kind we seldom stay together for a longer period of time. Sooner or later we'll separate and go our own ways …" he seemed to drift off into his memories.

While he had spoken he had sat down on the bed beside me so I could study his face. Such an exquisite face! As an artist I had always been in love with beauty. Be it the beauty of nature or beauty made by man or the beauty I saw here. My fears were vanishing. Could there really be a monster hiding behind those thoughtful tranquil green eyes?

"Don't loose yourself in romantic delusions" he answered apparently having read my thoughts. "That's what mortals always do. They fall in love with our mysterious beauty, they …"

"Yes, I can understand that", I said letting my gaze wander over his marvellous slender body, but it surely was not the detached glance of an artist.

"But I do not see evil when I look into your eyes. No! There is a dark secret, there is pain and there is a longing …

He looked up and a few strands of his shimmering midnight hair fell over his face. I could not help but sweeping them aside ever so carefully. "Yes, I believe that you did not come for my blood, you are looking for something different, isn't that so?"

My fingers trembled imperceptibly as I laid my hand on his cold face, feeling the delicate curve of his prominent cheekbones: "After all that you've been through you wanted to be at peace, finally. But now that peace and quiet have become something you can no longer endure. You want to feel life again. You want to find a way to rejoin the world, the world from which you separated yourself so long ago".

He stared at me with an unbelieving expression, his emerald eyes darkening: "How can you speak to me like this? How do you know? You certainly cannot read my mind!".

"No, but I can read in your eyes and I can read from your lips …" I could not avert my glance from those iridescent eyes, I could loose myself there …

Yes, this must be a dream - in the real world I would have never dared to touch this man's pale lips. All my fears were suddenly gone, instead I felt an overwhelming desire rise in me, the irresistible longing to kiss the sadness away from this beautiful mouth.

"Do not be afraid", I whispered. And holding his face in my hands I closed my lips on his. It was like kissing a living statue and it was also something completely different. When I touched his silky lips the world around me was annihilated.

I shivered - this kiss was the purest pleasure I had ever felt in my life as the statue was coming to life and kissed me back: "Yes, kiss me, hold me, " I sighed.

"No, "he turned away from me. "This cannot be!" He pushed me down on the bed so violently that the old t-shirt I had worn was completely torn at the front.

Helpless I lay there, motionless, breathing hard. Exquisite weakness. I was almost naked - the ragged t-shirt exposing more of my body than it did cover. I stared at him and I saw the desire in his eyes, too.

"You don't know the danger you're in, "he uttered under his breath, trying hard to regain control over himself.

I could not speak, I could only look at him, my eyes pleading, praying, begging for more.

"Ahhh, you cannot imagine how beautiful you look to me," he whispered and let his delicate fingers run over my naked skin where the t-shirt was torn apart. He placed a gentle kiss on my throat piercing my skin with his sharp teeth only so slightly. But then he stopped again.

"No, this time it will be - different". His face was only inches from mine. His voice was raw and tender: "I am not sure whether I can please you in the way you'd like me to, but …,"he let his mouth wander to down from my throat to my nipples:" but I try …."

His tongue was caressing me delicately and again I felt the small sharp prick of his teeth. Oh, how he inflamed me! It didn't take him long to make me writhe with pleasure, my body shivering under his caresses. But I wanted to feel him, too. I longed to touch his cold and hard body all over.

"Take your clothes off, I whispered, my voice hardly audible.

He rose and stared at me - hesitating.

"Please, do it. I want to feel you, I want to touch - that cool skin of yours."

Taking his time he unbuttoned his faded white shirt, a small smile on his lips. "You know it's quite some time now since I have been last into this ….

Carelessly he let the shirt drop to the floor and peeled himself slowly, very slowly, out of his faded jeans, his eyes never leaving mine.

"But you still know how to seduce someone," I smiled back devouring his tall and slender body with my eyes. Again, I had to think of those wonderful alabaster statues, but in one essential point he was surely quite different. The artist who would have dared to present an antique god or hero in such a state of excitement would surely have been condemned because of pornographic sacrilege.

"Now, let me see what I can do to please you, " I muttered, taking his hands and drawing him up to the bed. I kissed my way from his neck down to the sharp bones of his hips, letting my hands roam his athletic torso, his well-muscled thighs, his taut balls.

His eyes were closed. "Yes, "he murmured, "yes, I think I like that".

"And what about this?", I asked letting my tongue slowly glide over the length of his striking erection, sucking the delicate flesh, tasting that delicious hardness. I couldn't get enough of him.

He did not answer me then. His eyes remained closed, but he was obviously enjoying my endeavours. His breath was coming harder now, his hands entwined in my hair urging me to continue.

The little sighs which escaped his lips were music to my ears. But the desire to feel him inside me, to be taken and filled by him completely became unendurable.

And, as if he could read my thoughts, he gripped my buttocks firmly - scratching them with his sharp nails - ah, that delicate pain! - and rolled me on my back. Slowly, seductively he licked his middle fingers . Oh, how wished he would suck my cock like this, but apparently he had other plans. His hands moved over my thighs opening them wide for him and then he started probing my tight little opening, gently at first, but more and more demanding after that. I moaned as I felt his expert fingers widening me. The pain was gone quickly, instead I wanted him, wanted him so much…

"Ah, yes, and I want you," he replied and his voice was tense with excitement. With one swift movement he flung my legs over his shoulders and then he entered me with such force that - although I had wanted this more than anything in the world - I screamed.

"Are you hurt?" he whispered. But I was no longer able to answer him. I was writhing under him, raising my hips and trying to catch up with his accelerating rhythm.

We were lost then, completely lost. Working each other harder and harder, groaning, sweating, becoming more and more absorbed in this wild dance of unspeakable pleasure.

Suddenly he stopped and changed his rhythm, moving inside of me with indefinite care. Sublime torture this! I was pleading for absolution and on the other hand I never wanted him to stop.

"I love you", I moaned. He did not answer me but claimed my mouth again roughly and at the same time he was pushing me further and further: I was burning - this was oblivion! And so it was for him - he could no longer hold back and sank his teeth into my neck.

Wave upon wave of pure ecstasy passed through my body - I don't know how long this lasted - seconds, minutes - I was outside of time.

When I was on the brink of coming in a flash another man's face appeared in my mind. Blue-grey eyes, a wild mane of blond hair. A knowing smile on his lips. "This is my present for your, mon amour… enjoy!" And his words were like kisses.

I could have died then. And so great was my abandonment and ecstasy that it would not have mattered to me.

But he did not kill me.

Some time or other I felt him withdraw his teeth and piece by piece the real world materialized again around me.

I could still feel his body against mine, his hands resting on my cock, on my abdomen which was still wet where I had spent myself. I put my arms around him and I sighed and I felt like laughing and crying at the same time: "Oh, what have you done to me?"

He kissed my eyelids tenderly. His smile was an expression of pure joy: "Don't you see what you have done to me? I shared your rapture completely but I did not take your life. I did not have to! Can you understand what this means to me? Some of us call it the "little drink" but I always had to drink up my victims' lives. Oh, this is such a present".

"A present - from your blond-haired lover?" I asked.

"Yes, he gave my life back to me and even more than that. I didn't realize that until now. I do not have to kill any longer!"

However, all of a sudden his face became troubled again: "But what about you? I never meant to reveal myself to you - in this way."

I had to smile. " I have seen quite a lot of things in my life. And I have found a way to deal with the extremes. Passion and pain, misery and joy - they are at the core of my art. Even if I will never see you again in my life - it is such a present having met you, having made love to you. You will be a source of inspiration to me which will never leave me".

Again I took his face in my hands. "Your face, your eyes, the true soul of you will be engraved in my heart forever".

Once more he rained kisses on my face and my mouth, kisses of sheer happiness.

"Will you allow me to lie by your side until it's time for me to go?" he asked.

"I would love that," I answered. "Although if you go on kissing me like that. I am sure I will want more from you than that".

I remember him lying next to me, laughing again, snuggling against my back and embracing me from behind protectively. I must have fallen asleep then.

When I woke up in the morning, the sun was shining on my face.

I woke up with the feeling of complete happiness. At once I remembered the dream.

Oh, what a dream that had been! I could still feel his hands all over my body. I could still feel him inside of me…

But naturally I was lying all alone in my bed. True, the bed was in a state of complete disorder and I found myself naked under the covers but traces of a lover - be it mortal or preternatural - could not be found anywhere. I have a vivid imagination , haven't I? And it had been such a warm spring night …where's that old t-shirt …?

But his face, I can clearly see before me this lovely angular face, these sparkling green eyes…

Now, I think I will start working on a new picture today. Yes, I feel I must do that.

A name suddenly came up to my mind.

See, I already have a title for it:

"Louis".

Spring Trilogy
Part II: Dreams Revisited



Rating: X (for some naughty voyeurism in this part)
Warning: Not so slashy - but I'm afraid - very, very sirupy
Spoilers: Merrick

All the usual disclaimers apply.

Comments: Always welcome



With special thanks to Wiebke for kindly beta-reading the first version of this!



" I am to wait, though waiting so be hell,
not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well …"

Shakespeare, The Sonnets



"Enough! I can't stand it any longer!" Lestat thought bad-tempered and threw the little booklet down on the floor. "I'm done with waiting!"

Quickly he rose from his bed where he had lain since sunset, musing. "I know I promised I would not follow him, but now I have to. I can't be without him any longer. I need him more than anything in the world!"

Running a hand carelessly through his wild mane he looked down at the crumpled note which he had surely read countless times before:

Lestat, mon amour,

Almost breaks my heart to write this but I have to leave you for now as I must take my time to come to terms with what has happened to me. How can I ever thank you for all that you have done for me. Please believe me it is my fondest wish to be truly reunited with you soon, but for the time being I have to be on my own. I hope so much you'll understand this. Be assured you have my unconditional love - forever.

Louis

The elegant hand-writing began to dissolve before his eyes. He swallowed - ah, yes this was indeed hard to swallow! Not a single line indicating where he had gone! Not a word when he would come back!

All of a sudden those nights came back to him, those heavenly first nights after the two of them had been reborn.

It had been a new life for Louis who had always been the weakest among them and had now gained such immense powers, but for Lestat as well, after those endless months spent in deathlike sleep on the stone floor of St. Elizabeth's . Caught in the arms of nothingness. Lost in dreams, haunting irrational dreams. Sweet oblivion.

He had not had the will to rise from that state, not until he had learned about Louis' horrible, desperate act. Gone into the sun! Louis who had once said, "I will never seek to end it." How enormous must have been his despair!

Only then, when he had realized that without Louis his existence would be truly meaningless, had Lestat found the strength to rise again.

What bliss those first nights had been! Waking up in each other's arms marvelling at the sheer miracle that they still had each other. Touching and kissing each other so tenderly as if they had never touched and kissed before. Countless hours had they lain side by side, silently at first, simply enjoying each other's presence.

"Do you remember ..?"

"Did you know …?"

Words whispered in the darkness against the other's naked skin. Words they had not dared to speak in the past. Like tiny drops of rain appearing out of nowhere, falling down slowly at first, but pouring down in gushing torrents then. Words to express their fears, their countless misunderstandings, but also and above all the overwhelming love they felt for each other.

"You are my life …"

"I couldn't go on without you …"

Not very soon after that fateful letter had arrived from the Talamasca elders which finally made them give up their residence in New Orleans.

It was then that Louis had decided to leave them.

Merrick had been pleading Louis desperately not to go away - not so soon.

David had given him a long questioning glance.

"You do not have to be afraid for me," Louis answered quietly but firmly. " I will not try to do away with myself again. I doubt if I ever could do that now - but that's behind me. I am past all my fears and despair. I want to take to the world again, to revisit the life out there in a way a only we can."

He looked at Lestat for the longest time. There were hints of sadness around the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were clear and unperturbed like a tranquil pond deep in the forest. "I don't know where my journey will take me. Nor when I'll return."

"Oui, mon ami. Go - if you must," Lestat answered hoarsely, his hands tracing Louis' cheekbones. "I know I've been selfish. I have kept you too long."

"Lestat, it was my own free will to watch over you. I never could have left you lying there - like you were dead and gone already."

"No, you couldn't. But I left you. I was not there to watch over you when you would have needed me most. When you've started this adventure," he said shooting a glance at Merrick, "this absurd witchcraft experiment …"

Louis smiled silently. "You're the one to talk, after all the outrageous ventures you've made. Surely, you would have been the most suitable person to talk me out of this."

"Ah, but we learn through the mistakes we make, n'est-ce pas? Lestat shrugged his shoulders. But the gloomy look in his eyes belied his put on attitude of nonchalance.

"Louis, don't leave me!"

"How could I ever leave you," Louis answered taking Lestat's face in his hands. "How could I - ever?" he whispered and kissed him tenderly.

"But don't speak of tomorrow now. Tonight's the night. And tonight I am here. In your arms. And I am all yours."

"You are?" Lestat breathed putting his arms around Louis and drawing him closer.

"Yes, I am. Shall we go upstairs and …," he kissed Lestat again languorously, " I'll prove it to you."


"Ah, that last night", Lestat thought. "It should have never ended …."

The next evening, however, Louis was gone.

That had been almost half a year ago. Not a word, not a message since then.

Like eternity it had seemed to Lestat. And he felt that he already had more than his fair share of eternity. Now that he had finally recognized what he really felt for Louis he did not want to lose him again like he had so many times in the past.

So Lestat was overjoyed when he received information from Armand that he had glimpsed Louis at the French Riviera in a little village not far away from Cannes. It had seemed that Louis had taken up quarters in an old monastery which had been abandoned centuries ago.

Naturally, Lestat was determined to follow him. He simply could not resist the temptation. Just imagine - spring time at the Mediterranean! Walking barefoot on the fine sands of a lonely beach under a mid-night blue sky - hand in hand with Louis!

And so it came that only two nights later Lestat was already installed in one of the finest hotels at "La Croisette" in Cannes wallowing in that "rank materialism" and divine luxury to which he had always been partial.

That small village which Armand had mentioned was about half an hour's flight to the north of Cannes. Even if he could not reach Louis telepathically it should not be too difficult to locate his beloved fledgling there.

Thrilled at the prospect of seeing Louis again, he felt his heart pounding with anticipation. When Lestat finally arrived at the small quiet village up in the rugged mountains he found everything as Armand had described it. Yes, this had to be the old monastery, a decayed but still beautiful structure dating back to the Middle Ages.

Memories of his own childhood came back to him, that brief, but happy time spent in the monastery under the graceful statues of saints, where he had been sitting for hours enchanted by the colourful illustrations of the ancient books which had opened a new world for him. Long before that fatal wolf hunt had taken place. Long before he as a striving young actor had aroused the desire of that creature of the night who had finally overthrown his destiny for ever.

Well, another lifetime that had been - centuries ago - but he was still there, still wandering under the same stars despite all he had endured, despite all the terrible mistakes he had made. The moon was shining high and the night air was filled with the faint scents of herbs and acacia trees and peonies and when he looked up at the starry sky he felt something almost like happiness.

The ancient building, however, was dark and deserted - no traces of Louis anywhere to be found. So he decided to talk a walk through the little village which seemed some sort of artists' colony. Colourful posters at some of the grey stone cottages announced art exhibitions, at some doors little signs with the opening hours of the artists' workshops could be found.

On his way Lestat passed a small garden surrounded by low stone walls with a number of bizarre looking modern sculptures made of wood and metal. Some of them seemed to be moving objects and made little tingling sounds as they were slightly stirring in the night air.

All of a sudden he caught glimpses from a mortal's mind and his heartbeat almost stopped: This mind with was filled with images from his green-eyed lover! And what images these were!

Without making a sound he approached the old house peering through the long French doors. What he saw there made him stop abruptly in his tracks. It was as if a knife was stabbed right through his chest again, deeply, furiously, and twisted around and around to multiply the pain. Ah, the shape edge of jealousy - how it hurt!

In the bright moonlight he could clearly see two figures entangled on a large bed. And there he was: His Beautiful One, the love of his live, passionately making love to young man who was writhing frantically in his strong pale arms.

Lestat could not avert his eyes from these two who were working each other with such a fierce abandon. He wanted to turn away but he simply could not. As if glued to the spot he watched Louis - his gentle Louis, who had always seemed to him the perfect embodiment of a perfect gentleman, a lover of books and other quiet pleasures - how he thrust into that young man again and again, making him scream with passion.

But it was not only jealousy he felt …

"Oh Louis, how I wish you would do this to me," he whispered. He had to think of Louis' cold and passionless kisses, of those times when an unfathomable mask of indifference stared back at him over the vast abyss of misunderstandings and accusations which had separated them for so long.

But only recently he had come to know Louis's other side as well. Those precious moments when at last he had given up all his reserves, his eyes half-closed, short gasps escaping his lips, his face transformed in ecstasy. Ah, the sublime rapture of their long mutual blood exchanges, of their last night together - the mere thought of it filled him with a desperate longing.

"How I wish I could join you …"

To touch that cold skin, to feel that silken hair, to rain kisses all over that marvellous body - the mere idea made him burn with desire. He felt his breath coming faster. He shivered when Louis finally took the young man and sank his teeth into his victim's neck.

From the young man's mind he caught a wild torrent of images and all he could do was murmur in return: "Louis, mon amour, je t'adore …"

Very soon after that, Louis released the young man. Even in the dark of the night Lestat could perceive the happiness on Louis's face, the sheer joy that he had been able to spare the mortal's life. With all the power that Lestat had installed in him he was now able to content himself with the "little drink".

Lestat turned away - he did not want to disturb this intimate scene any longer. Also, he was afraid that Louis with his fine vampiric senses might somehow feel that he was being watched. And he knew quite well how Louis would possibly react when he discovered that Lestat had been watching him. Furious would be a mild understatement for his state of mind then. And to be received with red-hot searing rage was not what Lestat had in mind for their reunion.

True, Louis was never more delectable as when he became incensed - for example when Lestat had been teasing him without end or because of other trifles - but this, as he was well aware, was not just a trifle but a major indiscretion, a breech of trust which Louis would never tolerate.

So out into the moonlit night he walked, moving through the deserted village streets like a shadow.

He went back to the monastery and sat down under the pillars of the cloister.

His longing for Louis was almost unbearable. But would Louis be willing to see him again? He himself had experienced only too well how fatally in love one could fall with a mortal. What if exactly this was happening to Louis right now?

What should he do now? Yes, he'd always been a man of action, but how many blunders had he made in the past by just acting on impulse? "Be careful," he told himself. Louis definitely was a sensitive case and he simply deserved better.

This time, for a change, he didn't want to bungle anything.

Because he loved him.

'I am to wait, though waiting so be hell …

Ah, what should he do? Somehow his mind had gone blank as countless images of that passionate scene were tumbling through his head.

In any case it was no good staying here much longer. Maybe even wait for Louis to come back to the monastery where he probably had his hiding place somewhere. What if Louis actually returned and found him there?

What should he say to his unfaithful lover? Lestat only knew too well how he would react in his present state of mind. Certainly, he would not be at a loss for words then, rash harsh words, he was sure to regret soon after. Charges and accusations only leading up to new misunderstandings.

So he fumbled out a piece of paper and started to write:

Louis, mon cher ami,

"Quand tu reviens ΰ moi ? (When will you come back to me?)

J'ai besoin de toi. (I need you.)

Je ne peux vivre sans toi (I can't live without you.)

Je t'aime - pour toujours (I love you - for ever)

LdL

Scribbling the address of this hotel on the back he left the note under a stone on an old sandstone table, hoping that Louis would discover it there, and vanished into the night.


Spring Trilogy
Part III: Beyond Dreams (A)



Rating: G (sorry, having to disappoint you here, the real slashy part is still to come)
Spoilers: Merrick
Comments: Always welcome

All the usual disclaimers apply.


As it's been quite a while since we left our favourite vamps, a short summary of what has happened so far:

In part I a young artist described his passionate dreamlike encounter with a fascinating creature (who else but M. PdL ;-). In part II we got Lestat's point of view, who, thanks to the hints of his "oldest friend" Armand (and due to the author's voyeuristic intentions), happened to witness Louis' fling with the artist and was quite worried then whether his beloved would ever return to him.

With special thanks to Wiebke who was so kind to beta this part and who certainly did not drive me mad with her excellent comments on short incomplete sentences, the art of mind-reading or the anomaly of water et cetera.

Now, on with the story: let's see what Mr. Green Eyes himself thinks about all this!



What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you dreamed? And what if, in your dream, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if, when you awoke, you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?

Coleridge



The waves were caressing his limbs gently as he lay in the shallow waters at the beach. His arms stretched out wide, his body weightless. He was drifting. Floating. Dreaming.

This was not a dark night; the full moon had washed the deserted coast in silver. Stillness. Only the soft sounds of the waves gently rolling in from the sea.

Remembering the night before made a dreamy smile appear on Louis' lips. His fingers were tracing lazily the contours of his body lingering here and there where it seemed he could still feel the mortal's warm hands touching him. The waning imprint of the young man's heated skin against his cold flesh. The taste of his blood, his luscious rich blood, distilled into a truly divine essence by the fires of ecstasy.

Ah, this one had been special. It was, of course, to be expected; for weeks he had watched the young artist, studied the works of that man whose creations had radiated with fierceness and passion, sincerity and audacity, qualities which had stirred Louis' interest in the first place.

No, this one was special for another reason. He had not been afraid. He had perceived Louis' true nature, acknowledged what he really was, but still he had shown no fear. Fully aware of the impending danger, he given in to Louis completely.

And this time it had not been a deadly embrace. True his victims had always loved him - at least Lestat had never tired of telling him that -- over and over again. And hadn't it been Lestat who had coined the name "Merciful Death" for him? Deep in his heart Louis had never actually believed this: How can you be merciful when you bring nothing but death?

Years and decades this feeling of guilt had held his heart and soul in a relentless iron grip. Only when he had braced himself with indifference, he had been able to go on. With his feelings frozen like water deep inside a rock, there was only one thing he feared: the ice might finally break up the stone, splitting it up into a thousand jagged pieces, thus leaving him bare and defenceless.

But this was over now! It was as if a dream had finally come true - he would no longer have to kill! Lestat's powerful blood had changed him so greatly that he could now live on the "little drink" -- certainly, his hunger for the kill would always be there, would always linger on the edges of his conscious being, a constant lure from the heart of darkness. Now, however, it was no longer a necessity, but merely a temptation he would be able to resist.

As he would resist the temptation of seeing the artist again. When the young man had had finally fallen asleep in Louis' arms he had appeared unharmed, not only in his body but also in his soul. Mortal sanity, however, was fragile like a flame in the wind. One swift breeze of fate could extinguish it all to quickly. And even a one time encounter could have fatal consequences. Every time he looked into Daniel's unnaturally beautiful face, into his iridescent lavender eyes, he was reminded of that and - no matter how often Daniel assured him there was no need for it - sensed that stinging feeling of regret. Befriending a mortal like Lestat had done so often or pursuing him year after year like Armand had done with Daniel was simply out of the question for Louis.

Naturally, it would have been fascinating to see the young man again -- not to make love again or drink from him, but simply to talk to him. For what did Louis know about that person? Watching him, stalking him, even reading his mind was one thing. Actually speaking to him was something else.

Nearly his whole life among the living dead, Louis had been unable to figure out his victims' thoughts, but through the years he had never actually missed that faculty. Certainly, the blood swoon now enabled him savour the personality of his victims in all their complexity and completeness, revealing a kaleidoscope of their memories and feelings; but having a conversation, an exchange of opinions and ideas with an appealing mortal, someone he would, of course, never choose to be his victim, was a subtle intellectual pleasure he had come to estimate. That was what he had been looking for the previous night. An intention that had been blown sky-high so unexpectedly. For better or for worse.

For better, that was sure. That night had been a present. "A present from your blond-haired lover" … hadn't that been the young man's phrase? In the aftermath of their lovemaking, Louis had not paid much attention to these words.

Now, it dawned on him. Why had the young man said this? How could he have known about Lestat? Come to think of it - could Lestat possibly have witnessed what had happened in the artist's studio?

Undoubtedly, Lestat had been to the little village up in the mountains, most probably looking for him. And hadn't Louis been overjoyed to find the letter his maker had left for him at the centre of the monastery's cloister? With trembling fingers he had opened the letter which so suddenly and unexpectedly had appeared on the old stone table as if a mysterious fairy had left it there for him.

Louis felt his heart throbbing with increasing intensity, a warm wave of bittersweet longing washed through him. Ah Lestat! Why, after all, would he need a mortal lover when he had Lestat? How long had it been since he had last lost himself in the continually changing blues of his lover's eyes? Four months, five months?

Time had been passing by so quickly. He had hardly taken notice of it, so enchanted had he been with the world's mysteries which had opened up for him anew. Like it had been on his very first night as a newborn fledgling when Lestat had teased him for staring on his buttons without end, when everything seemed so full of secrets and promises. Never before had the world fascinated him so much. But this was the first time in his long existence that he had been truly free to discover the life out there supported by his new powers, his new strength - and Lestat's love.

Ah, Lestat! All of a sudden, he realized that during all those months he had not even once tried to contact his maker, had not even left a message for him or informed him on his whereabouts. Even a stupid little postcard an average tourist would send home from his Grand Tour through the Old World would have been better than nothing. Foolish little comments like "bathed in the Fontana di Trevi yesterday night" or "had a great time at the Centre Pompidou - the exhibitions were delicious and so were the night watchmen" would have made him smile.

Ah, Lestat! It was not too late, certainly, to see him. Tomorrow night Louis would go to Cannes and look for him there. Surprise him. But for now he needed some more time on his own to think over how he would confront his lover. One more night he wanted to dream, to bathe in the warm waters and in his recent memories ….


***

It had not been too difficult to locate Lestat the next night. Some Franc notes in combination with Louis' most persuasive smile had helped the man at the reception quickly forget the strict rules concerning the guests' privacy. Apparently the man had even told Lestat where the hottest parties would take place that night, although after the opening of the famous film festival only two nights ago the whole Croisette seemed to be one big party.

This was just the atmosphere Lestat, with his penchant for being in the limelight, loved. Louis knew that even 200 years after the abrupt end of his acting career, Lestat deep down in his heart still felt that desire to shine out on a stage, be it as an actor or a singer. He remembered Lestat telling him how much had enjoyed the filming of those video clips for his former band and how he had loved to bathe in the adoration of enthusiastic followers. If only he hadn't wakened the Queen with those damned songs! How differently things would have turned out! She had been the first step on that winding road which led from one disastrous adventure to the next until he was finally defeated and broken.

But now, against all odds, it seemed they had been given a second chance …

Louis felt his heart brimming with joy when he finally discovered Lestat at the bar of the Hotel Majestic in a crowd of film people, conversing animatedly, gesticulating, overacting, laughing, deliberately lapsing from time to time into old French phrases or terms which seemed to amuse the whole company mightily -- such a charming contrast to his youthful energetic appearance.

"Beautiful One" -- that's what Lestat used to call him, but actually Lestat was the one to be called beautiful. He who would enchant the people around him not only with the dazzling blue of his eyes, his aristocratic features, his wild mane of gold, but actually with his sheer enthusiasm and his vitality. To Louis he was like the sun, generously spreading its light on the all the planets in its orbit. Contrary to that Louis considered himself only as a dim reflection of his maker's splendour, like that of the waning pale moon in the darkness.

It was so good seeing him like this, apparently fully restored to his former self, charming and entertaining the mortals around him, flirting shamelessly both with men and women. Not so very long ago - painful still to recall this - Louis had embraced Lestat's lifeless body, an empty shell seemingly devoid of heart and soul.

Never would he forget those blank eyes which had stared at him when he had come to read for him during those bleak nights at St. Elizabeth's. Eyes apparently having perceived things so terrible and devastating that they had lost all their brilliance. A soul traumatized by having witnessed incidents beyond imagination. A silent cry from the bottom of his soul: "Give me the void. Give me oblivion. Let me be unconscious. I don't want to know any longer who I am…"

And there had been no remedy against this. As if it were yesterday Louis remembered his helplessness, his utter despair when he held that lifeless body in his arms. Yes, Lestat had returned to him, but only his body, his soul still seemed to dwell in a faraway place. And there was nothing he could do to bring him back. Louis used to sit there for hours with Lestat's head resting in his lap, stroking his dusty mane, placing a hand on his maker's silent heart, whispering words of comfort and love to him. Futile those words, futile his kisses - nothing would ever bring him back.

And he had felt the blackness stretching out its thin spider-like fingers to him, threatening to engulf him. This feeling had been stronger than all the guilt and remorse he had ever felt, and so much stronger than all the resentments he might have ever had against Lestat dating back from a time when he had not known that it was love that bound them, when he only felt fury and anger when he spoke his maker's name.

But the remedies he had been seeking against this gradually increasing desperation had proven fatal. "This absurd witchcraft experiment," Lestat had labelled it, and he had been so very right. But it had been the last plank for which he had been grasping like a drowning man after a shipwreck. And in the end he had been convinced that only the light of the sun could cure him. "Ah, don't dwell on it," Louis instructed himself. "Don't think about that last fatal morning. When you had only one wish left - to die …"

He sighed. Yes, a miracle it was that they had left this agony behind them. That the two of them had been reborn after all this.

Louis' felt such a joy when Lestat laughed out loudly, throwing his head back in sheer amusement. Suddenly, Lestat realized that he was being watched and his eyes met Louis' glance. Lestat's face went blank as if in disbelief. It seemed for a moment time stood still and they only looked at each other. Looked. And looked. And finally smiled as if in a trance.


Part B

So Louis has decided to return to Lestat and after about half a year of being separated the two finally meet again -- here we go again:


And all of a sudden, too quick for mortal eyes to see, Lestat was by his side, embracing him, and then they were out on the terrace in soft warmth of the night. Lestat kissing him madly, deeply. Again and again. And Louis kissing him back. There was nothing else but these lips, these arms, that body which appeared new and exciting even if it was so familiar.

It took a while before they spoke again.

"Louis, " Lestat blurted out breathless, his heart on his tongue as always. "I thought … I was afraid that …"

"That what? That you might never see me again? You should know me better than that …" Louis answered, a small smile playing on his lips. "Although I loved that letter of yours." Leisurely he licked Lestat's neck. "Do you still want me back?" he whispered against his face.

Now it was Lestat's turn to draw back a little. A frown rushed over his forehead like a turbulent cloud as his grey eyes seemed to size up Louis. He drew in a deep breath.

"I didn't want to spy on you, Louis. Armand sent me a message from the Cτte d'Azur where I might find you and then I …"

"Ah, Armand! I shall have a few words with him next time I see him! Seems he has been spying on me, the imp, but honestly, now that I think about it, in one way I have to thank him. It's true, -- I should have contacted you earlier, that was most inconsiderate of me."

"Most inconsiderate indeed," Lestat grumbled, gripping Louis by the shoulders, and there was that dangerous sparkle in his eyes Louis knew only too well, but this time he didn't fall for it.

"Yes, I know and I am sorry and I would like to make up for it."

"You have to make up for quite a number of things, don't you?"

Louis raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Lestat, you do not intend to give me a lecture on two-timing now, not seriously."

"Yeah, I know. I should be the last one to get upset by something like that. But it did hurt. It hurt like hell seeing you making love to him instead of …"

"Can you imagine now, "Louis interrupted him. "How I felt about you and Akasha, and David, and all those mortals?

Lestat let his arms sink and looked sideways. "I know. I know, but all that seems so long ago these days."

Louis cupped his hand under Lestat's chin, gently forcing his maker to look back at him.

"Listen. We're not talking here about getting even. This was not planned. Yes, I had been stalking him for some months as I found him fascinating. I did not even want to contact him actually. That night when I sat down in his studio - it was only to watch him in his sleep. And then, well, things somehow happened."

Lestat rolled his eyes. "You made them happen, my friend!"

"Yes, maybe," Louis admitted. "And I won't tell you that I am sorry for what happened. Perhaps you don't grasp it, but it made me realize that I can exist perfectly well without the kill. And this really is a present. A present from you. For which I am grateful without end."

"You have a strange way to express your gratitude !" Lestat snarled.

"Lestat! Suffice it to say that I will never see this young man again. Of course, it would be tempting. But I won't. He's not the companion I want."

His maker shrugged his shoulders, swirling around and gesticulating theatrically. "Ah, you could go looking for Armand, maybe he's still somewhere out there having a good time watching this farce he has staged so skilfully. And who knows, he may welcome you with open arms."

Louis caught his maker by the shoulders. "In fact, it's you who's staging a farce right now, and you know that quite well, you incurable brat! Lestat, it's you that I love! Get that into that thick stubborn head of yours!"

"I was so happy when I suddenly saw you," Lestat said. "But you really have a talent to make me furious, it only takes you minutes -- non, even less. And then I'd like to grab you by the shoulders, you stupid Creole planter, shake you and …"

"And what?" Louis laughed provokingly. "Nail me down on the floor and have me at your mercy to remind me that you're my one and only "master?"

"Louis, you're asking for it!" Lestat growled, grasping for the midnight hair, but not fast enough, for Louis quickly ducked away and ran down the grand stairs leading towards the beach promenade, his exuberant laugh ringing through the warm night air.

Within seconds they had crossed the beach and were near the water where Louis stopped abruptly. "Seems you need some refreshment to cool down your hot temper, " he taunted, walking into the water with fast strides, his green eyes positively sparkling with delight.

"You wouldn't dare, Louis," Lestat grimaced, following his fledgling into the water still trying to get hold of him, although it seemed as if all his anger had suddenly dissolved into the air. "You wouldn't."

"Now you're asking for it," Louis answered with a wide grin and before Lestat could make some more comments he found himself wet to the bones, his elegant dark-blue jacket completely soaked with the gigantic splashs of water Louis had sent in his direction.

"I'll make you pay for that!" Lestat declared and it didn't take long until they were both drenched, shaking with laughter, taking an almost childlike pleasure in this foolish game.

Abruptly they broke off. Looked at each other. Breathless. Drops of water on Lestat's face, dripping down from his eyelashes along his cheeks, mingling with some tiny drops of blood on his lower lip where he must have hurt himself during their little tussle.

Staring at the blood, Louis felt the desire rising in him. In a sudden flashback, he remembered that divine circle of blood which had united them on their last night together.

"He's like the sea," Louis thought. "Turbulent and unruly at times, with violent storms rising out of the blue, and then again peaceful and gentle. And just like the sea are his eyes, ever-changing, unfathomable, whispering sweet promises at times and tempting you to dive down into the deep quiet waters. Ah, I could drown there …. "

Slowly Lestat smeared the blood with his thumb along his lower lip and provokingly licked it away. "I've been waiting for you, Beautiful One, "he whispered. "All these months I've been waiting…"

A crooked smile on his lips he continued in a raw voice. "I guess I was -- hmmm overacting maybe -- must have spent too much time in the company of actors this week. Anyhow, seems the water has washed away my anger and my bad feelings. All I want now is you -- back in my arms …"

"Ah, Lestat, " Louis answered and his smile was full of tenderness. "How could I resist such an offer? And let me tell you something. Tonight is a very special night for me. I look at the sea, I look at the lights on the boulevard behind us, all those mortals over there, enjoying themselves, having a good time. And for the very first time during my life in the darkness I no longer feel as the monster hiding out there, having to chose one of them, kill one of them so that I can quench that horrible thirst."

Louis looked up at the sky and made a funny face, and although his eyes were blinking he could not stop the single red tear running down his face. "I am so happy that I do no longer have to make that choice, "he said and his voice was shaking slightly. "So happy to share all this with you as this was your doing. And for that alone I would love you …"

"And what about the brat?" Lestat asked ironically.

"I love the brat as well, " Louis grinned under tears and closed his arms around Lestat, kissing him on the mouth fully.

"My Louis, my precious one, "Lestat breathed between kisses, tenderly licking the salty red tears away like a cat. "I can't say how much I've missed you. It's so good to have you back. You taste -- so good."

Louis groaned, melting in his maker's embrace, his hands roaming Lestat's body. "Just look at you," he teased. "What a mess you've made of yourself. This beautiful jacket, all wet and crumpled and full of sand." Unhurriedly he began to open Lestat's jacket. "Looks horrible now, better take it off!"

"You're the one to talk! Look at this sweater style "vie de bohθme"! Is that grey or black? Doesn't matter. Almost falling to pieces, as usual. Away with it!" Lestat joked pulling it over Louis wet hair.

"Hey, stop Monsieur l'impatience," Louis gasped getting hold of the hand that tried to unfasten his fly. "You don't mean to strip me right here. The beach is not exactly what you'd call empty. And people are already staring".

"Let them stare. They're just envious. And they do not have the faintest idea what I'd like to do with you tonight. Come on, Lou, don't be shy!"

"Lestat," Louis swallowed. "You want to do it here? On the beach? That would not be wise!"

"D'accord, mon ami. Just a little joke" he winked one eye conspiringly. "So let's go back to my hotel. There's a nice whirlpool in my suite. And you look like you'd be freezing in these damp trousers."

"Oh no, I've a better idea," Louis answered with a quiet smile.


Part C

A silent enchanted garden under the moon. Jungle-like. Several terraces high up on a steep cliff, one leading down to the next, looking out over the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean. Once conceived and realized by a famous British garden architect now peacefully deserted, nature slowly but gradually reclaiming its terrain, transforming the carefully planned designs into a wild, more amorphous beauty.

Looking closely between the old cypress trees and stone pines, it's easy to imagine the ladies in their white summer dresses, faces behind fans as they walk along the tangled paths, chattering and laughing. Off to the side, looking over to them, the gardeners, busy invisible hands always at work to maintain the transient splendour.

There are palm trees, large box tree quadrangles and roses, all sorts of roses, now growing wild; there are statues and angels, water basins, large terracotta pots and vases overgrown with moss hidden in the lush vegetation.

"And now we are here on this night of all nights," Louis said as he stepped out onto the large terrace, where Lestat stood resting against the sandstone balustrade --. above him only the sky, behind him the distant lights of ships out at sea.

"You're shivering, "Lestat whispered. "Let me warm you." Stepping up to his fledgling, he put his arms around Louis' bare torso, revelling in the soft cool skin, slightly nuzzling at his lover's neck, not actually piercing the skin, only leaving a thin red line on the white flesh.

Moaning with pleasure, Louis started to open Lestat's shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Quickly losing his patience, however, he hastily ripped it open -- a small sharp sound as the white silk was torn apart and thrown to the ground. Louis' sharp nails left a narrow bloody trail on his lover's chest; hungrily he licked the blood away while fondling Lestat's nipples until they were painfully hard and erect.

And down went Louis' hands, down to Lestat's sharp hipbones, slipping under the waistband, quickly opening the fly and pulling the pants down. With a small sigh, Lestat closed his eyes and leaned back onto the stone railing, his arms stretched wide. "Oh yes," he murmured. "I have been dreaming about this for so long …"

"What have you been dreaming, my prince?" Louis asked kneeling in front of his maker, kissing his way downwards and letting his hands run over Lestat's thighs.

"That it would be you who stole kisses from me. That it would be you who came to me while I lay behind the transparent curtains of my bed turning restlessly from one side to the other as if in a fever. "That …," Lestat winced as his briefs were stripped off, but he did not move. "You put aside the curtains and started to ravish me …"

"Ravish you?" Louis whispered with a smile, squeezing Lestat's tight buttocks . "Like this, you mean?" and closed his mouth around the delicious soft flesh at the top of Lestat's manhood. It seemed to have been twitching and aching for that loving caress and now, at his lover's attention, it responded immediately by growing harder, thrusting forward demandingly into Louis mouth.

"Yes," Lestat moaned as a wave of pleasure washed over his body, threatening to sweep him off his feet as Louis' hands continued their ministrations while the fangs pierced the tender flesh of Lestat's inner thigh.

Louis' mind began to spin as he tasted the first drops, and at the same time he felt an intense heat starting to consume him slowly but gradually from within.

But he drew away from Lestat only after a short while, after merely a few precious drops of blood, moving up to his maker's face, covering the length of Lestat's body with his own, giving him a long passionate kiss which enabled Lestat to savour traces of his own blood lingering still on Louis' tongue.

"Oh Louis," Lestat smirked, eagerly returning the kiss. " Louis, I can't believe that you're still wearing these damp impossibly tight trousers. Don't you feel somehow 'restrained'?"

"Hmmm, now that you mention it, " Louis grinned, stepped back and began to open his trousers with inciting slowness. "You're right, I've been restrained much too long, but I can assure you that's over now."

"Yes, I feel I need some more assurance, " Lestat grinned back, devouring each of Louis' fluid moves with his eyes as his fledgling unhurriedly peeled himself out of his old jeans.

"Wanna take a swim?" Louis asked when he had finally gotten rid of all uncomfortable pieces of clothing.

"A swim?" Lestat questioned ironically. "Ah, that's not exactly what I had in mind …"

"Well, I can guess your lascivious thoughts," Louis chuckled, striking a finger at Lestat. "But you're not the only one who comes from an age of decadence, my friend," and with that he gave Lestat a slight tip so that his maker fell backwards in a large water lily basin, the water splashing in all directions.

"What the hell!" Lestat grumbled when he emerged again, shaking his wet hair, some sort of seaweed over his face. He was standing upright in the shallow basin, circles of small waves playing around his slender hips, beads of water on his body glistening like silvery pearls in the pale moon light. But before Lestat could go on ranting, Louis joined him in the warm water, embracing him, greedily kissing the drops of water from his lover's cool wet lips.

"My beautiful son of a river god, " he teased his maker. "Adorned with sea grass and wild water lilies. But do you know what happened once to such a striking Adonis when he took a bath in a deserted fountain all alone at night with only the stars to watch over him in his breathtaking beauty?"

With one arm he embraced Lestat from behind while his other hand cupped Lestat's buttocks, squeezing them tightly, while scraping his fangs once more against Lestat's neck. Lestat gasped. "What -- what happened to that boy?".

"You wouldn't guess," Louis answered, breathless, pulling Lestat close, his long hard member pressed against Lestat's back. "A hideous satyr had discovered the boy and that wild creature from the woods was not satisfied by adoring his naked beauty only from afar. No, he lusted after having the young man at his mercy, to hold down him with his strong hands while placing lecherous kisses on his shivering flesh." Leaving a trail of wet kisses on Lestat's neck Louis laughed silently. "It was a pleasure for that ferocious beast to shame the young 'innocent' by touching his most private parts in an obscene -- but obviously -- very pleasing way."

Lestat writhed against his fledgling's body, growing more and more exited under Louis' delicate caresses. While speaking, Louis was fondling Lestat's erection with one hand, whereas his other hand went to Lestat's backside to explore the narrow opening there, cautiously at first, but then more and more insistent, taking a pleasure in widening him, making his lover groan.

"Ah, yes, shameful it was for the young man, "Louis continued his narration between little sighs. "For even if the boy despised that horrible creature, those forced upon acts had incited a desire in him he had never felt before. The desire to be violated, to be taken -- just like this." And with that Louis entered his lover from behind.

The sensation of being so tightly surrounded almost overwhelmed Louis, driving him nearly mad with desire, making him thrust into Lestat again and again, to claim him in a way that made his lover cry out.

"Louis, please," Lestat pleaded hoarsely, offering his throat where the vein seemed to be throbbing violently; and this time Louis, no longer wishing to hold back, sank his teeth in the soft flesh and drank, drank like someone who has almost died of thirst after days and days spent in the desert.

The boundaries between them began to dissolve, the world around him was pulverized into nothingness, and he no longer heard the distant sound of the waves rolling against the shore deep down under them or that of the cicadas singing nearby. All these things were gone -- there was only this divine elixir which was like liquid fire.

And images came tumbling down on Louis:

Lestat's face, his eyes widened in horror as he gazed at a terribly black-burnt figure lying in a coffin, his mouth opened in a silent cry of total despair.

A young mortal man, cream-coloured skin, a mop of unruly dark hair embracing Louis, grasping the lapels of his jacket, pleading desperately with him: "But you must give it to me…. take me off this cross …you can't turn me away like this …" And he saw his own face, unnaturally white, abnormally beautiful, the green eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Ah, I can and I have."

Lestat looking out over a sun-burnt field at night seeing a figure approaching from afar with long graceful strides. Without hesitating Lestat switched off the alarm system, opened the large glass doors and stepped out into the blackness.

And suddenly all the images dissolved into a haze of colours and he only heard the beating of a heart, pounding in accordance to the rhythm of his own, and with each heartbeat, with each wave of pleasure that washed through his body, this pounding became louder and louder and suddenly one last image appeared: the face of a young man in a crowd of people in a ballroom, all dressed in velvet and lace, those beautiful 18th century extravaganzas, dancing, joking, in high spirits. And the young man turned around, his face flushed, his emerald eyes sparkling with delight, and he laughed a carefree and cheerful laugh …

And then there was nothing else but the blood and the divine rhythm of their bodies in the water, moving in unison, almost delirious in their frenzy until they finally climaxed together.

Louis cried out.

Minutes later, hours later, who could say as time and place no longer existed, he felt Lestat draw back and suddenly they were separated into two beings again and he felt Lestat's limp body pressed against his, shivering slightly still.

"Oh my God, " Louis whispered, slowly coming back to his senses. "I've almost drained you."

Lestat smiled weakly. "I love you, my Beautiful One."

"And I love you, "Louis sighed, leaving a lingering kiss on Lestat's lips. Quickly he lifted Lestat's flaccid body out of the water, placed him lovingly on the grass, and lay next to him, dreamily tracing the contours of Lestat's body.

"Louis …", Lestat breathed hardly audible, looking at him for the longest time, his eyes still dark with arousal. "Come! … Do it again!"

Louis smiled and slowly, gently he moved on top of his lover, stretching Lestat's arms over his head, their fingers entwined, their bodies touching from head to toe.

"You really want me to go on?" he asked, brushing a wet strand from Lestat's forehead. "Seems you're the one who's insatiable."

"Yeah, that's me. But I've been waiting for this for so long - that you'd finally accept my blood. There were times when I thought you would never ever drink from me. Well, you had your reasons, reasons I've come to accept although I could never fully comprehend them."

"Yes, I know now that my well-founded reasoning led to so many misunderstandings and bitterness between us, making you believe I'd reject you in the end. Ah, but how could I reject you?" Louis answered, moving his body ever so slightly up and down Lestat's, instantly renewing the desire in both of them.

"I wanted you the moment I first saw you, " Lestat breathed, closing his eyes for a moment. "That was even before your brother died and you became a desperate broken reflection of your former self, frantically trying to forget your misery at the gambling tables or in the fleeting embrace of whores, more than ready to throw your life away in the arms of an unknown stranger. Of course, I wanted you, wanted to drink up your life - but I also wanted you to drink up mine. I've been dreaming about this for two centuries."

"And now I make your dreams come true," Louis whispered hoarsely and sank his fangs into Lestat's neck. Lestat groaned and then he bit his lover back, taking deep draughts which speedily restored his strength, the intensity of tasting Louis almost overpowering him. But suddenly Lestat no longer seemed to be able to content himself to being passively ravaged, swiftly he rolled Louis on his back, pinning him down on the ground with his weight, his mouth sealed on Louis' neck, while Louis drank from him with equal ferocity.

Louis moaned as he felt his legs being spread apart and his hips being lifted, he buried his nails in Lestat's back, drawing blood, and cried out as Lestat penetrated him with long forceful thrusts.


***

The moon had almost reached the end of its nightly itinerary and in the east the sky began to pale imperceptibly while the stars little by little lost their brilliance.

It was the hour before sunrise when the night is quiet, so quiet that the only thing Louis heard was the heartbeat of his lover as they lay snuggled against each other, his head resting on Lestat's chest.

"How I love those warm spring nights, but they're so short, " Lestat said dreamily, pulling Louis close. "I wish we could lie like this forever".

"Forever is a long time," Louis answered quietly, nestling up to him. "But there is always tomorrow".



The End