It was bitterly, bitterly cold in Siberia. Lestat supposed he should have taken that into account when he’d dressed for the trip. It was snowing, but then, it was always snowing in this part of the world. Lestat blinked his eyes to free his lashes from the snowflakes. They swirled in flurries all around him, catching on his face and clothes and in his hair. He could literally feel the blood slowing in his veins.
He shook it off and started to climb. Flying would be a stupid choice in this weather; it was going to be hard enough to find this place on the ground, let alone in the air. Lestat wondered why anyone in their right mind would choose this place for a monastery. But then, he mused, monks always were slightly insane. Imagine a vow of celibacy.
That, of course, brought his thoughts to Louis. He was sorry that he’d left in such a hurry, without even bothering to explain, but Louis would have stopped him if he hadn‘t. Louis would have talked him down and Lestat would have surrendered to reason, and things would continue going downhill. It was bad enough that Armand had moved in, but Lestat could practically feel Louis gravitating toward the elder vampire. Yes, he’d had to get out of there as fast as he could, without looking back, before things spiraled out of control and he lost Louis for good.
He wondered how Louis was now. He hoped Armand would stop him from brooding too much, and make sure that he ate. He also hoped that he wouldn’t turn to any extreme measures. The last thing he wanted was another incident like the one with Nicki. Louis did not need the added stress of losing his hands, which was what had happened the last time he left a fledgling in Armand’s care.
He trudged through the snow, snowflakes stinging his eyes and cold numbing his hands and face. It was rather unpleasant. Lestat hoped that there would be some kind of blood to be had at the monastery; otherwise, he would very likely freeze to death.
He shielded his eyes with a hand. In the distance, he could make out the vague outline of a building. He walked faster, and with renewed energy.
***
When Louis awoke, Armand was waiting for him in front of their fireplace, staring at the flames. It was late, Louis knew, and felt a twinge of sorrow for keeping Armand waiting. He was sure the elder vampire hadn’t fed, and he felt bad for sleeping so late. But he just couldn’t seem to muster the energy to get up some nights.
He sagged as he thought of Lestat. Lestat never waited up for him. Lestat had always been out and back by the time Louis arose. It made Louis sad to think of the way things had changed. Armand was not Lestat, not by a long shot.
Armand’s lips curled into a welcoming smile as he saw Louis. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to get up at all tonight, Louis. But I’m glad you did. Come, the night is, as they say, young.”
Armand stood, and claimed a chaste kiss from the younger vampire. Louis let him, and though he wanted to be a good lover for Armand, he just couldn’t help but remember how Lestat had aroused such passion in him, with less than a touch. He stepped back.
As Louis still wasn’t very good at hiding his thoughts, Armand knew what he was thinking. At first, Louis’s thoughts saddened him, but as he mused on them, the sadness grew to anger. No, he was not Lestat. He was Armand. He was better. And he would show Louis that, one way or another.
Firmly, he took Louis’s hand. “Where would you like to hunt tonight, love? The docks? The clubs? Would you like to taste some of those new drugs the mortals are all raving about?”
He wrapped his other arm around Louis’s waist, and danced with him gently. He dipped Louis and then kissed him fiercely, using his superior strength to keep Louis entrapped in his embrace.
Louis’s sadness was driven away under the surprise and heat of the assault. For the first time in months, he could feel passion building low in his stomach, as Armand took the lead. He found himself pushed roughly against the wall, with Armand ravaging his throat and mouth. Louis felt his skin growing heated and pleasantly raw under the battery of sensations.
Deliberately, Armand refused to draw blood. Louis moaned and pushed back with his hips as he pulled Armand forward with his arms. He could feel the blood rushing to faintly color his cheek, and his lips zinged with sensation as Armand nibbled them delicately.
“More,” he gasped. But just like that, Armand stepped back, breaking contact and walking away, toward the front door.
“Come, Louis, you must eat something. And I’m feeling rather peckish myself.” Armand opened the door, and listened intently to Louis’s harsh breathing behind him. He controlled himself through mere force of will, his instinct screaming to go back and ravish Louis, and finish what he’d started. But, he’d learned that, like other things, sex was always better when delayed. He would finish what he’d started, alright. But not yet.
Frustrated beyond belief, Louis came back to himself slowly. No one had made him feel like that before. Except, of course, Lestat. He sighed in frustration. When he thought of his maker, he realized that Lestat had made him feel that, and more.
As he hesitated, caught up in his thoughts, he felt Armand push sensuously against his mind. Tendrils of thought invaded on his own, all of them containing naughty hints and ideas about what Armand would like to do to him. These thoughts spurred Louis on, and he followed Armand out the door and into the night.
***
Though he knew the city well, Louis found himself becoming lost in the twists and turns that Armand led them through. He was perfectly content to follow, though, his blood pumping hot and fast in response to Armand’s sexual overtures and the imminent hunt.
They stopped in front of a non-descript door in a back alleyway. Louis could hear the throbbing of a deep bass coming up through the ground, and the scent of a hundred mortals wafted through the closed door.
Armand turned and gave him a sensuous wink, before flinging the door open, and striding down into the morass of music and humanity. Louis felt his heart flutter excitedly and he stepped into the doorway himself, closing his eyes and gaining a sublime feeling of superiority and peace. Armand reached back and grabbed his hands, leading him on, down the stairs to where strobe lights flashed and human bodies gyrated and sweated.
At first, Louis was slightly intimidated by the euphoric throbbing crowd. He’d not been to one of these clubs in a long time. But Armand smiled and drew him on. Louis let his eyes flutter shut, and the throbbing techno beat picked up to match his heart rate. Armand led him toward the middle of the dance floor, and before Louis knew it, he was wrapped in his lover’s arms, and he could feel his body begin to relax as he was caught up in the movement.
Armand nestled his head in the crook of Louis’s neck, and Louis shivered. The danger inherent in having Armand’s teeth so close to his jugular only excited him, and made his heart beat faster. Without his consent, his body began to undulate against Armand, half-dancing and half-fucking. Louis let Armand’s touch roll over him like water and he tilted his head back slightly, his mouth open slightly as he tried to breathe.
Soft, rasping vocals came over the speakers. Louis inhaled them like air, his lips moving to mime the words. His hands slid over Armand’s back, finally finding their resting place on his hips. Slowly, their dance movements began to synchronize, until they were rocking back and forth together.
Another body slid in behind Louis, and he felt the hands of a random human man snake around to rest intimately on his hips. Armand’s eyes lit up for a moment with righteous indignation, but then his fury cooled just as rapidly as it had started. He ground his hips against Louis’s for extra emphasis, and then took the handsome young man’s face in his hands.
Louis let his head fall to the side, content to be sandwiched between two writhing bodies; one hot, one cool. He felt Armand lean over him and give the mortal a teasing kiss. A second later, the scent of spilled blood filled the air, and a droplet of ruby red plasma fell on his exposed shoulder. Armand caught his eye and leaned down to lap it up with his tongue.
The man was still with them, rolling his hips in time with them both. Louis could feel his sex throbbing, and Armand saw that Louis’s eyes had gone dark with desire and drunken lust.
Louis leaned forward and nuzzled his face against Armand’s. The man behind him brought his hands around to cup Louis’s ass firmly, and a shivering jolt ran through Louis. The man grinned impishly at Armand, the blood from his cut lip staining his teeth. Then, delicately and deliberately, he placed a gentle kiss at the juncture of Louis’s shoulder and neck.
Louis gripped Armand tightly in surprise and pleasure. Then, he left off his vague ravishment to turn and kiss the anonymous youth passionately on the mouth. He could still taste the blood left behind by Armand’s precise cut.
The man brought his arms around to Louis’s chest, fondling his nipples through the thin shirt. Louis responded by kissing him harder.
Armand felt a severe twinge of possessiveness and grabbed Louis’s waist and crushed him closer. Louis’s eyes flew open and he turned back to look at Armand in startled amazement. He could feel the other vampire’s powerful arousal, and it amazed him that someone could feel that for him. Armand curved sensuous lips in a wicked grin.
His hands slid down from Louis’s waist and gripped tightly. “Mine,” he hissed possessively into Louis’s ear. Then, like a cat, he delicately licked his ear. “Not his,” he whispered again. “Mine.” They both knew that it wasn’t the excited youth that he was talking about. A million miles away, Lestat felt an odd twinge, like something was being taken from him.
Louis hung his head, the euphoria leaving him. “Yes,” he whispered hoarsely. Brokenly.
Then, he turned and bit the man’s neck. He didn’t even have a chance to cry out, but as Louis drank from him, he cupped the youth’s sizeable erection and squeezed. The boy whimpered, and Louis jerked his neck fiercely.
Warm ambrosia filled his mouth, dripping down his throat like a macabre elixir. The blood was thick with arousal and drugs. Louis could feel the sin washing down his throat as he viewed the darkness of the boy’s life. The boy’s dying thoughts leaked into Louis, and he sadly removed the blood-stained knife from the man’s back pocket. Blood always tasted better when its owner had taken life.
He pushed the man back, and instead of slumping to the floor, the numerous people kept him pressed upright with their bodies. There was no space for him to fall. Louis stared at his glassy dead eyes, horrified by the grotesque spectacle of the corpse propped upright, like a living being. The man seemed to dance with the others, and in the strobe light, Louis imagined he saw him wink.
Armand pulled him back. With his hands on both sides of Louis’s face, he kissed the younger vampire violently. Louis gave up the blood he’d been holding in his mouth, and Armand’s tongue clashed with his roughly in his mouth, the blood rolling over and around them. Louis felt the flush of arousal creeping back into his blood. Armand was undoubtedly skilled at this.
Louis still felt all hot and bothered when the song came on. A familiar, sexy, rough voice came crackling over the speakers. Familiar chords drifted across the floor. Louis felt his mood plummeting as he recognized ‘The Vampire Lestat‘.
Armand’s face fell as he, too, recognized the song. He cursed Lestat for somehow still being able to ruin the moment, even when he wasn’t on the same continent. He looked at Louis for a moment, saw the devastated look in his eyes, and knew the evening was ruined.
Louis turned and fled up the stairs, pushing violently through the throngs of dancers, creating quite a stir. Armand cried out to him and vainly tried to pull him back, but it was too late. A few seconds, and Louis was free from the dance floor and fleeing out into the night.
Armand gave up and dropped his head. Damn you, Brat Prince.
***
I betrayed him. Louis couldn’t stop the thought from running through his head. Over and over and over again... Lestat’s face flashed in his mind, and Louis pictured him singing those lyrics so soulfully...Singing to him. Louis tried to stop it, but the picture came to life and he saw the whole scene like it was a movie.
Lestat, staring into his eyes and crooning softly. Lestat, creeping towards him on the bed, his voice fading to a whisper. Lestat, kissing him and touching him in a desperate, loving way that Louis had never experienced before. Them, clinging to each other desperately throughout the night, trying to weather the passion that battered them both.
Louis shut his eyes against the pain. Lestat was his forever, his maker, his sire, his lover. He was nothing if not for Lestat. And yet... Lestat left. Lestat rejected him. Lestat was gone, who knew where, for who knew how long.
Armand had stayed. Armand had cared enough to be upfront with Louis. Armand was the one who would hold Louis now. Armand was the one who wanted him now. Not Lestat.
Louis bowed his head and waited for dawn to come. Armand would find him soon, and he would apologize and everything would go back to the way it was before.
Not quite happiness, but something like it.