The Vampire Lestat

“Do you feel alone just like I do, do you hate the sound of your heartbeat too?” Eddie was so sure that he was alone as he sat on the hood of his van singing along to the music coming through his headphones.

The vampire was looking for someone to feed on.  At this point in his life, he was already a famous rock musician.  Being in a small town would probably raise some eyebrows, but he had felt a pull to come here.

And now, he heard the singing of a male voice.  Following it, he came to stand before the other.

Eddie damn near jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice that didn’t come from his headphones and quickly pulled them off, “christ don’t just scare people like that,” Eddie’s heartbeat was slightly uneven, it had never recovered fully from stopping in the Upside Down, he pressed his fist over his heart to make sure it was still beating. “Some song one of my friends found,” he finally answered, he had been listening to a mixtape made for him by the members of Hellfire Club while he had been in hospital.

The vampire smiled and moved to sit beside the young mortal.  He was curious about them.  It was like their mind was blocked from him when most minds were not.

“Your voice is beautiful.  But tell me, have you ever listened to anything by The Vampire Lestat?”

Lestat rose a perfect blonde eyebrow as he stepped out of the bathroom and into his room. How had he not noticed that someone had not only snuck into his home, but also into his bedroom? He was an attractive young man, for sure. One that Lestat wouldn't mind sinking his fangs or cock into.

His towel hung low on his hips as he made his way towards the other the way a predator might.

"And who might you be?"

it would be great if the voices would shut the fuck up for a second, Anthony thought, feeling his pulse jolt like a racehorse breaking at full gallop.

Was it getting hot? Was his throat closing up on him? Was the blond too sexy and beautiful by half? All a big fucking Yes, but he had to think. Why was he here? Did this man- wealthy patritian in appearance- own some fiery death trap of a factory, or something? Patient zero in some fashionable new venereal disease? On second thought, strike that, he thought, as The other man grew visibly hard right in front of him.

He found himself drawn in, imagining the no-strings tryst they could have. No names, no expectations. He almost stepped closer before he heard it.

“Blood” came one strikingly clear word among the throng in his head. “Blood. Blood. Blood.” Far too late, the pieces began to slot to shape. The otherworldly, allure, that erotic gaze (that body)…. And all the woe that struggled to be heard above the glamour. Of fucking course it had to be THAT.

“Beg pardon,” the witch stammered and turned to leave the way he came. This matter was far above his paygrade, as the saying went.

The armor had slipped.  Oh how greatly Lestat wanted him now.  To defile him.  To make him as he was to shut those cursed voices out.  To feed on him and be fed on in return.  He would have him.

He appeared before the door, standing there, his towel having been lost in his speed.  He didn’t care.  Cock hard and proud, he looked at the other.

Anthony.

“Oh?  Leaving so soon?”

He was on the other in an instant, his hand gently wrapping around his throat.

“Ignore the voices.  I can make them stop for you.”

He kissed the other side of Anthony’s throat.

Lestat rose a perfect blonde eyebrow as he stepped out of the bathroom and into his room. How had he not noticed that someone had not only snuck into his home, but also into his bedroom? He was an attractive young man, for sure. One that Lestat wouldn't mind sinking his fangs or cock into.

His towel hung low on his hips as he made his way towards the other the way a predator might.

"And who might you be?"

Now, Anthony was many things, but blind wasn’t one of them. He had taken a chance-heeding a heady toxic call that only a massive psychic wound could incur. It bled and screamed and cajoled and whispred, dragging the male witch in its wake. Curious, he had to know the source of this fetid noise.

He did NOT expect the font, the wellspring of all that to look like this. Gleaming, mostly nude, golden. A master sculptor could make an image of the most beautiful man, see the blond before them and know that their imaginations were lacking.

Anthony promptly remembered himself, and realized he had been staring.

“I…” he began. He clearly ought to have tbought of a cover well before this. “I had to come see for myself,” he began, twisting the truth just slightly. “Gossip is rampant here…. People talk.” Of course those people were a cacophany of the dead, but same difference.

@behindviolenteyes

“What did you have to see for yourself?  What do people talk about?”

He had tried to slip into this man’s mind.  But it was well guarded and he didn’t want to put in the mental effort to break through the shields.  Besides, breaking shields would be something easily recognized.  Lestat was, at this moment, still playing human.

He moved closer.

He could feel the attracting coming off of the other man in waves.