The monastery had been a bust. Lestat was self-confident enough to admit when he’d made a mistake. And listening to that anonymous tip he’d gotten in Indonesia was one of those mistakes. It was a mistake that had cost him about two weeks of fruitless searching and a lot of frustration.
But he remained optimistic. On his way through Russia, he’d run into a vampire of indeterminable age, who had hinted at something in Romania. One of their kind that performed experiments on himself and other vampires, sometimes painful ones, to better define the limits of their existence. It was the first Lestat had heard of such, so he was slightly skeptical. It seemed that a vampire attempting such things would be more well-known. But he was willing to give it a go, if only for the sake of his curiosity. If such an individual existed, he’d surely like to meet him.
He’d taken a train to Romania instead of opting for taking a plane, or even flying there on his own. He wanted to see the landscape. It was nothing like it had been even a century ago, but it was still beautiful. He wished that Louis was there to share it with him. A pang of homesickness struck him, and he wished, not for the first time, that he could share Louis’s thoughts, and that he didn’t have to be alone out here, so far from home. And by home, of course, he meant his Louis.
He was here now, and it was singularly unspectacular. Like every other place on earth, as far as Lestat was concerned. But he could sense the other’s presence, and that was good.
He also read fear in the people’s minds. And that was good, too.
***
Armand found Louis, all right. And he didn’t care to repeat the mistake of going out the next night. Instead, he just sat patiently with his head on Louis’s head and read over his shoulder. He tangled his long fingers absent-mindedly in Louis’s long, sable hair. This was pleasant, but it wasn’t what he’d had in mind. It wasn’t quite what he wanted it to be. A little bit of shared tenderness and friendly bonding was not all he wanted in Louis.
But so far, it was the most he’d been able to get out of him. Louis seemed singularly uninterested in taking their relationship to the next level, or in becoming more intimate. And every time they were on the verge of something, like last night, something would happen to cock it up. The song’s terrible timing was just the latest in a string of misfortunes that seemed determined to stop Armand from having Louis. It was as if the fates themselves were intervening.
Subtly, Armand lowered his head to where a flash of pale flesh beckoned from beneath a loose shirt top. He nipped delicately at the bared skin, illiciting a sharp gasp from Louis. “Armand...What are you doing?”
Louis looked down at him with something between revulsion and intrigue. Inwardly, Armand frowned. But on the outside, he smiled seductively and continued to entice Louis with gentle nips and licks. He never thought he’d have to work so hard to get someone to go to bed with him. But Louis was startlingly original in more than one way, including this one. Armand tried not to mind the challenge.
He began to stroke Louis’s chest, sensuously enjoying the ripple of muscle beneath shirt and skin. Louis enjoyed it too, judging by the look on his face.
Louis did indeed enjoy it. He allowed Armand to continue. But a sudden wave of regret washed over him as he thought the late nights when he and Lestat would lie together, just gently touching, right before the sun came and sent them into deep, relentless sleep.
Angrily, he pushed the thoughts back. This was good, too. And it was Armand, not Lestat. He threaded fingers lovingly through auburn locks. Armand closed his eyes and let the gentle sensation of touch wash over him. That’s it, Louis, my love. He urged Louis on mentally, but was very careful. They’d not gotten much farther than this without Louis being scared off.
Louis drowned out the guilt in his head with the soft touches of pleasure. Armand’s voice created a kind of white sound in his mind that drove back all the other thoughts. All he could think of now was the way Armand’s body carried heat from his last human victim still. The way the slight ridges on his fingertips felt like feathers as they dragged across his lips and chest, igniting delicious new hungers inside him.
Almost without knowing it, he was kissing Armand. The other vampire’s full, delicate lips were deceptively soft, and Armand kissed back with unmatched fervor. Their tongues caressed each other, Louis’s questing and curious, Armand’s seductive and inviting. Louis could not resist the invitation as he pulled Armand closer, into his lap. Their hips ground together inexorably, desperately, as Louis sought to make up for what he’d lost and Armand searched for something he’d never had.
The pressure between them felt good, like the excitement of the night right before dawn. Armand was a tender, considerate lover, and the way he stroked Louis’s chest and face both enflamed and calmed him. The only other male Louis had ever been with was Lestat. This was such an utterly new experience; he found himself breathless with both lust and fear, and desperate for the comforting presence of his maker.
Armand soothed him with gentle kisses, peppering his face and throat, and his hand strayed lower and lower, until it found his straining groin. Louis gasped and blushed, even as he arched his back for more.
Armand smiled playfully and withdrew his hand. He leaned forward and whispered sensually into Louis’s ear. “You have to ask for it, darling.” His lips and breath tickled Louis’s ear in a tantalizing way.
“More...” Louis asked obediently. It was quiet and breathless, and a strange flower of embarrassment bloomed in his chest. He didn’t know why it was there, but he ignored it in favor of his more understandable desires.
“Yessss,” Armand hissed, and he unzipped Louis’s pants with one hand, keeping his reflective eyes locked on Louis’s. The only sound was their harsh breathing for a moment, and then Armand’s hand closed around Louis, and Louis whimpered. He let his head fall back; he would not watch this. It was too obscene, too...
Something wet and warm touched the tip of him. His eyes, which had been drifting closed, flew open. He whimpered sharply, and resisted the urge to look up. His hands found their way to Armand’s thick hair. He was in heaven; he was in hell. He was so conflicted, and yet the pressure in his lower belly would not let up, and he couldn’t force himself to stop or even slow. His hips found a rhythm on their own, and as he thrust up into Armand’s soft mouth, he damned himself again and again, and when he came, he was crying.
He lay back on the couch and closed his eyes. After a long time, he felt Armand leave the apartment. He winced when he heard the door slam. It wasn’t likely that Armand would be back tonight.
Louis lay alone with the blood drying on his face, hating himself and wishing he was dead for the first time in almost a century.
***
Lestat rather liked it here, after all. Romania had seemed a dank and superstitious place at first, but it grew on him. He couldn’t deny that he loved how easily these mortals scared. He’d actually had a cross shoved into his face, for the first time in a long time. It had been good for a laugh, and besides, there was no way he was leaving when he was so close to the answer.
He’d met with the vampire who claimed to do these experiments. As far as he was concerned, the guy was legit. There had been an eager fire in his obsidian eyes as he spoke with fascination of the things he’d learned. Lestat watched with amusement, but after all, he didn’t need to hear the explanations. He’d known that this was his man from the first two sentences out of his mouth. The rest of it was just superfluous.
“You know what I’m here for. Can you help me, or not?” Lestat asked of the animated little creature sitting across from him.
The vampire blinked his black, sharp eyes quickly. “I think so. Of course, it will take some research time and I don’t even really know where to begin...”
Lestat waved his hand dismissively. “No problem, then. You know where to find me if you need me.” He stood and casually walked to the fourth story window, opened it, and jumped out. He didn’t care what the other vampire’s reaction was; the room had suddenly felt claustrophobic and constrictive.
He walked the cool forest by night, staying on the fringes only, where he could still see the lights of civilization. Gabrielle might have taken to wandering the great wilds of the world; he never would. He needed to be near people; the collective human was a great comfort to him, inhuman as he was. He thought that he might lose himself completely if ever he was left alone too long.
He sighed and wondered if what he was doing now counted as alone time. It certainly felt like it. He could see the people and the places that he passed through, but making a connection with them was an entirely different matter. He dipped into their thoughts every now and then, sampling each like a fine wine, before dismissing them as easily as the last. In his heart of hearts, he knew what--who he longed for, but to admit it was to number his days of freedom. Once he let Louis into his thoughts, he would miss him more and more, and the doubt that had already begun to creep up on him would make its move. He missed his Louis, though, his companion through all, the sturdiest connection he would ever have to what was left of the humanity in him.
He caught a young man out and wandering along the edge of the forest, just like him. Under the starlight, the youth’s face looked almost innocent, but Lestat knew better. Lestat always knew better. He smiled slyly at the young man when he caught his eye, and then disappeared smoothly among the trees. He was suddenly in a playful mood.
It took only moments for the boy to make the decision to follow him. Or try to, anyways. Lestat moved quietly and quickly through the looming shadows of the trees, glancing back occasionally and laughing quietly to himself, his eyes shining in the moonlight.
The boy came on, cursing and muttering to himself as he stumbled in the dark. Lestat drew him on with an invisible, imaginary thread that tugged at just the right places to keep him interested. The edge of Lestat’s appetite sharpened with the delay of the kill. His teeth ached for warm flesh.
They did not talk, Lestat and the boy. They both knew that this was to be regarded as a dream, and nothing more. Even when Lestat spun suddenly out from behind a tree, startling the youth stupid, the boy did not scream. In his eyes was fear, excitement, curiosity, and a strange kind of resignation to his fate that Lestat had seen on many faces before his.
He’d intended to draw out the feeding, make the boy cry and scream, because to hear it would mean that he was still human, despite all the things he’d done. But the thoughts of Louis came back to haunt him, and he suddenly lost the appetite for the raw pain and fear that his games brought. He ended it quickly, drawing the boy willingly into his arms, and tearing the soft veins in his neck with a casual ease. Gouts of blood poured into his mouth and he slurped it greedily. He closed his eyes and thought of his Louis. His blood was not quite so hot as this anymore, nor so steamy.
But still, this boy was nothing compared to Louis. And like all other mortals, his life did come to an end, and Lestat let him drop to the ground, his eyes open and vacant and a peculiar smile on his face.
It did not take long for Lestat to bury the body, and then he returned to the small inn he was staying in. It was nothing like the luxury he was used to, but that was okay. It was good to have change every once in a while, for better or for worse.