#iwtv reader insert

“Ma bien-aimée, could you carry me to my coffin?”

You could barely register the words Lestat spoke as his lips pressed against the top of your head. Sitting up from your current position, you tilted your head up to meet the others' gaze. His eyes seduced you entirely without even trying, your half lidded eyes holding nothing but love and adoration for the man below you. “Ain't ya’ got legs? I've been much rougher than this before Les.” Your voice rumbled in a slightly deeper pitch seeing as you'd just woken up.

Your nude bodies seemed to shift and brush over each other as you moved. The couches weren't the best places to have such intimate moments, but you knew Lestat didn't have a bed, even for show. You knew of a guest room not too far off from his own, and that maybe he could have one there, but you never got the chance to mention it to him.

Lestat made a choked sound as you pulled away from his body, a ripple of warmth shooting up his spine. You'd gently chewed against your bottom lip as you pulled out and away from Lestat, feeling him cling onto what he could before the connection was broken. “Bien-aimé, tu es grand même quand tu dors,” he muttered to himself.

“Want me to run ya’ a bath Les?”

“It is too close to sunrise, I will take one later.”

“You sure? Wouldn't want to get your coffin all dirty.” You managed to find undergarments which had nearly been ripped to shreds with how eager Lestat had been. He'd vented out his frustrations, how Louis seemed to be avoiding him for some time now after — what he described as — having a blissful night of exotic wonders in each other's embrace. Not that you minded Lestat laying with others, just as he didn't judge you for being as queer as you were.

Ever since Lestat pulled you in, Louis had grown uneasy around you, almost as if he disliked you. You'd spoken to him before, but he dismissed you or ignored you most times — caring not for how you looked, how you acted, nor where you were from. It was truly as if he didn't want anything to do with you.

“I can always buy a new one, but if it is your mess, I don't mind it reeking of you for a while.”

You couldn't tell if that was an insult or a compliment, but you didn't take it to heart. “Well Les, was wonder’n if you wanted to see a show tomorrow, or maybe perform tonight. Haven't heard you play on stage in a while now!” Your arms maneuvered themselves under Lestats' legs and back before he proceeded to hook his arms around your neck.

“I would love to, really, but I have pressing matters to get to tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You almost seemed sad at that moment as you carried Lestat up the stairs, and apparently it was shown on your face as well.

“Stop that, you look like a kicked puppy when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“That…that face. You pout, you give me those eyes, almost begging for something. I will spare time to perform, I promise, but...I have plans at the moment.”

That was the last conversation you could remember having with the vampire before he seemed to disappear like smoke. He stopped visiting, stopped showing around, and suddenly you were alone. It almost seemed wrong, to go out into town by yourself, running your business without seeing him flaunt around you or sit on his lap. It was odd. But you knew what he was, what he truly was. A creature of the night. A God compared to the mortal you were.

And all you could do is wish longingly for his return.

For his touch.

For his voice.

For his love.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You looked down at yourself, feeling a little overdressed for the occasion – even though it was a wedding – suits and ties never truly felt like you. Lestat was the fashionista, so to speak. One who loved to dress you up like a doll, having dragged you from tailor to tailor after one glance at your wardrobe. Though he never really complained with the way your suspenders seemed to shape your ass perfectly – perfectly enough that he felt the need to cop a feel whenever you dawned them.

In your hand you fiddled the RSVP that had been recently slipped through your mailslot, thumb running over the engraving on the card and your heart throbbing within your ears. Yes, Louis had a very caring sister that adored you, but you felt odd appearing at the wedding after Louis made every attempt to cut you out of his life. “Grace invited you,” you muttered to yourself, hearing the yard flood with noise, now realizing just how many people occupied said space. “If they didn’t want you here, they wouldn't have invited you…” You tried to coach yourself as nervousness wracked the entirety of your body, but it only seemed to worsen with every passing minute.

Your normal social butterfly self seemed to turn into more of a wallflower. Most of the people there knew the family and the couple – whether they be relatives or childhood friends – but you felt like a stranger within it all. Just the oddball bumpkin who’d started running the club down the lane. Nothing special. The sun was still out, and at that moment you had doubts that Lestat would be around. It almost felt like you needed him to hold your hand, at least to settle your buzzing nerves. Unfortunately, last you heard was that Lestat left a rather unsavory impression on the family, or so they say.

Sitting in the farthest seat you could, you sat and waited, watching the couple say their vows and declare their love for eachother. You could almost hear the nagging of your Ma and Memaw now, asking when you were going to bring some pretty girl around one day rather than a sack of potatoes over your shoulder. Wondering when they’ll get grandchildren from you. Your eyes left the couple as they jumped the broom, clapping your hands in a celebratory fashion with a sad smile appearing on your lips. Would marriage even be a chance in your future? Children even?

As you reminisced on your somber past, the evening seemed to turn into night and with the night came blaring music, laughter, and talk. Everyone seemed so happy, yet you'd kept your eye out for the blonde man who'd yet to crash said wedding. You could only assume that the two men didn’t end up on a good note, at least on Louis' side, seeing as Lestat spoke of him often to you. He always spoke of what was troubling him, his woes and worries as you two would share the couch and sometimes even your own bed.

“There you are! Been lookin’ all over for you!” Your shoulders jumped in surprise, the wine you were sipping on hitting the back of your throat as you tried your best to clear it. Grace made her way over with her now newly wedded husband in tow, holding the hem of her dress so as to not drag it on the ground. “Oh don’t try to hide yourself now country boy, where have you been?” She gave a playful pinch against your arm, none too painful, but she seemed much stronger than she looked.

Rubbing against the area on you arm after placing down the glass, you offered a shy smile in return. “Well, I assumed I wasn’t…welcome here. Family is a joy to be around, but I wasn’t sure all of you enjoyed being around me, is all.” You made a small pained noise as the smaller woman called you out by your name and you were pinched once again – in the same spot no less. You glanced down and then to the female, head tilted to the side in a questionable fashion, as if wondering why she was beating you up so badly.

“Boy, don’t let Mamaw hear that! She loved having your company, much better than that French White Louis is doin…business with, something about him just don’t sit right with me. But you? You’re sweeter than a pot of honey, and Paul seems to have taken a liking to you!”

“More than what most could say.” Levi gestured to himself, knowing that Paul cared not for him or the fact that Levi seemed to have married with his sister.

“Paul’ll warm up…one day, though I think he is just be’n protective is all. His darling sister being carried away with someone he barely knows, I could understand his worries,” you chided. You knew all too well how that felt, the protectiveness and all. A fleeting memory if anything. “Not to mention he certainly doesn’t like the fact that you are not wholly faithful to the name of the Lord and Christ. You know how he is Levi, just be happy he didn’t do anything rash during the vows…” As you spoke to the married couple you could feel eyes practically piercing through the side of your head. Your gaze slowly drifted, flickering past guests and family friends that seemed to mingle between each other.

You blinked almost feverishly as you came to see Louis staring directly at you, bewildered and almost unsure if you were really there. He didn’t come to confront you – no – but instead saw your gaze match his before going back to the slice of cake he was indulging himself in while with his brother. Though that didn’t stop him from glancing over every now and then. “And please, Ma du lac doesn’t need to know what I thought. I was just worried is all. Louis doesn’t seem to like me all too much at the moment. I can’t find what needle got stuck in his ass, but the moment I do, I’ll yank that grumpy mug completely. That way he won’t be runnin around frown’n all the damn time.”

Grace practically cackled as such a thought, wiping away a stray tear before gently touching against the spot she pinched, though now you were on high alert in case she decided to bruise you anymore than she’s already done. “Well, know that you’re welcome here and that I’m very happy you came. Enjoy yourself country boy. Looks like you may have needed a day out anyways. You look like a lost puppy over here at the table! For someone who runs a club, I didn’t take you as the shy type of man. I can introduce you to some people if you’d like.”

“No need!” You quickly held your hands up and laughed it off. “I’m just not used to gatherings like this I guess. I’ve only been here for a few months, so being invited to your wedding – it wasn’t what I was expect’n. Anyhow, I can mingle by myself, I assure you. You two enjoy your night, Grace,” giving a short nod as a farewell to the female, you did the same to her partner. “– Levi.”

It wasn’t long before you found yourself far from most of the commotion, picking at the plate of chocolate cake that you happened to pick up.

“Didn’t expect you to be here…”

What was it with the Du lacs’ and their ability to scare you, while compromised with food or a drink no less? You cleared your throat before turning to Louis who didn’t look none too pleased to see your face. “Well, I said this before, I’ll say it again. I didn’t expect to be here neither. Your…Your sister invited me last minute. I was hesitant to even come, I didn’t want to…upset you more than I already have bein’ around here and all.”

Louis had always been a wildcard to you. He was a smart man, you knew that, but he was always shot down and put under the boot of the white man because of the color of his skin. You found it insulting that the world today would treat those with different colors and tints to their skin like stray dogs – tossing them scraps when they feel sorry, a sliver of a bone when they do something that pleases them, a collar…when they want someone loyal to work for them. But if they grew tired of them, found even the slightest bit of fight or defiance? They’d dispose of them or throw them in a hole they wouldn’t be able to dig themselves out of.

You knew discrimination when you saw it, heard it even. And you knew first hand how it felt, even with your own family looking down on you, not because of the way you looked, but because of what you presented yourself as. Louis had a name for himself, but respect was rarely a two way street when someone of a higher status spoke to him. But you saw yourself as equals, human beings. There was no ill will you bore towards him, but you couldn’t understand the ill will he held towards you.

Seeing as Louis hadn’t responded, you found yourself a bit awkward and out of place. “Seems I’ve…overstayed my welcome. Tell Paul I said hello, I'll get out of your hair.”

“Wait–” Suddenly you felt a hand grip against your arm, tugging you gently before a sigh came from the other. “Look, I…I don’t hate you man. Grace chewed me out good when I told her I didn’t care to see your face around. I guess I just – I don’t know, I haven’t been myself lately is all. I’ve been a little unfair to you. Hell, even Paul says you're a walking angel…or something like that? What I’m saying is, I judged you too harshly before gettin’ to know you.” In that moment, Louis spoke with sincerity in his voice, though all you could hope is that it came from the heart as well.

“If that’s your way of apologizing, I ain’t complaining.” There was a cheeky smile that appeared on your face before you gave the other a knowing look. “If you wanted to really say you’re sorry, I’d love to see an encore of – what did you call it? The ‘ABCDEFGs’, was it?”

“Oh god, now don’t you go start’n nothin man!” Louis playfully punched your shoulder and flashed his brilliant white teeth as a smile appeared against his face. A much better look than him always running around with a frown, is what you thought.

“Well, I ain’t never seen nobody tap their feet like that, ain’t had a clue that the Louis du lac knew how to put on a show!” You joked on.

“Yeah, and it’s a first – and the last time you see’n any of that. You lucky it’s Graces wedding, I’d have been halfway down the quarter the moment those shoes came out if it wasn’t.” Louis let out a bit of laughter as you two seemed to go back and forth. He assumed that maybe he just had a little too much wine or maybe one too many slices of cake, that the sugar and the alcohol was getting to him. How did he not notice how much of a joy it was to be around you?

You didn’t bring anything dreary or depressing to the table, nor did you try to flex wealth or name to him, even upon meeting him. Maybe he’d invite you around more, for dinners, maybe an outing if he had time between handling his own work. It was a moment between you two before both your laughters died down and the voices of others clambering about reached your ears. The space between the two of you was impregnated by a comfortable silence shared, though it seemed as if something was being held back.

“So how has–”

“So how have you–”

You both stopped and chuckled before you nodded your head towards Louis. “Go ahead, and don’t fight me on it. If you do, I’ll forget what I was tryin to tell ya in the first place. It happens a lot, believe me. I got it in my head, so–” You then gestured for him to continue as you had started a quick ramble, trying to keep your question at bay and at the forefront of your mind before it disappeared.

“Right…?” He spoke, squinting at you for a moment before shaking his head. “Was just wondering, how you and Lestat was doin’ is all. Curious.” It seemed as if he was just as uncomfortable as he was eager for an answer when saying his name. You couldn’t blame him. Lestat was on Louis like a tick on a dog before you appeared, and after? It seemed like you were his new attraction, though after whatever disagreement or argument they last had, Louis seemed to have given him the cold shoulder.

“Honestly?...I’m not much sure myself. Figure he done got tired of lil old me is all. Haven’t seen him in some time now, a few weeks or so. Nothing to get all down about really. Flaunted about how I made him laugh and..a little more, but nothin special Louis. Last I heard, Les was looking for you. Kept wondering why it seemed like you were hidin’ from him.” You spoke truthfully as Louis’ brows furrowed together in thought before he swatted his hand.

“I stopped doing business with him. I figured I’m good on my own as is. It just wasn’t a right fit is all. Better that he’s not around no more. I can actually focus for once.” Picking up the wine glass he once abandoned while speaking to you, he took a sip before continuing, pointing a finger at you with the same hand that held said drink.. “So, what was it that you wanted to ask me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but clearly the thought had already gone like the wind. Louis took that silence into consideration before sighing.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you forgot?”

“Slipped my mind a bit, yeah,” you say sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head as you watched Louis smile behind his cup, shaking his head at your antics. “If I can’t remember, it couldn’t have been that important!” Though truth be told, you had another question now rolling about in your mind. Did he know about what Lestat truly was under the guise of being this charming foreigner who stumbled across such a place?

“Anyways, besides still handling the club right now, I’ve been enjoying the daylight hours much more. Sometimes…club gets boring. Same band playing twice that week? Pass. Place won’t burn down or go under if I leave for a night or two to sleep. Been visiting, though everyone said you’d been busy or asleep for the most part. Guess stopin to smell the roses every once in a while ain’t too bad.”

Louis returned a small smile to you. “You seem like you’re doing alright for yourself,” he praised, patting you on the shoulder. “If you ever need any help, I’m around. And from what I know so far, Grace ain’t gon’ leave you alone no way. If she had it her way, you’d be another brother I’d have to take care of.”

“Take care of? Me? I think that would be my job if anything. And look, Levi is already lookin at me like I’mma steal his wife away. It ain’t my fault she likes my company so much! Well that and she’s been craving those sugar cookies I brought some months ago. Promised I’d share the recipe at one point or another.” Suddenly you made a pained face as Louis slapped your arm in the exact spot that Grace pinched you, twice.

“Those were yours?!”

Rubbing against your poor sore arm, you nodded.“Yeah? Look, I can’t cook actual meals without damn near burning down half the block. I’m more useless than a pair of tits on a horse in the kitchen! Baking, that’s when you can be messy on purpose and try all sorts of stuff in the kitchen.”

Louis sighed with a grin on his lips before looking at you, this time having claimed the knowing look. “Well, now you’ll have me pounding at your door whenever I have a sweet tooth. Could have sworn they were some sort of imported sweets or somethin like that. Grace nearly took my hand for the last one.”

“I don’t doubt that, but she’ll take more than just your hand iffen she hears you getting the recipe before her.”

“Oh you know she wouldn’t do anything that crazy…”

The two of you paused and then glanced at each other for a split second before bursting out into laughter. Louis was half kneeled over while holding an arm against his stomach all while you tried to keep your balance with one hand on the table directly behind you. It took about a minute or two for the both of you to calm down, Louis wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Didn’t mean to have you all tickled t..tonight,” you stated as you proceeded to calm yourself down.

“I think they put something in the wine, I’m telling you.” Louis held up his nearly finished glass before turning and hearing you yawn. It was getting late, but for him, this was most likely going to be an all night event.

“I should be headin back to my place. Been up all day as nervous as a bull in a nursery. Not a wink of sleep either. Was worried I’d be out of place or that I was overdressed, or that the invite slipped through the wrong mailslot.” You never normally had anxiety play such a big part in your life, but it had you running rampant all morning.

Unable to think properly, your room was still a mess after throwing clothes out of the closet and stressing about what looks best with your favorite pair of boots. Lestat would have known how to dress you accordingly – now that was something that you truly missed. He refused to let you go out looking like a hot mess, though he didn’t mind dragging that hot mess around a corner and doing whatever came to mind when he felt like it.

“I take the blame for that. Shouldn’t have made you feel like I hated you so much. You’re pretty alright…’country boy’.” There was once again a grin on Louis face at the teasing name, noticing the eye roll as you soon said your goodbyes. As Grace called for her brother and you snuck another swig of wine on your way out, your exit was cut short by someone stepping right in front of you. And to your surprise, it was Paul.

Paul.

A sweet boy, his mother calling him fragile while others outside the family called in delusional. You weren’t one to ever judge, and you weren’t starting either. You were one of the few people who listened to Paul truly, not from being a patron of the church, not being paid in anyway. You knew his mind was different from others, but he was still flesh and blood, still human.

He never hurt anyone, and to call him crazy was more of an insult to him, and would do no good. You never thought he was crazy, not once. Just blessed in a different way, though you couldn’t help but to have your concerns. When he spoke to himself, knowing he’s been in and out of the institution, and how everyone seemed to worry – it would keep anyone on edge. But everytime he spoke to you, he never gave you any trouble. He was loved, and you could only hope that he kept a good head on his shoulders.

“Paul! It’s nice to see you again! I was just askin–” Suddenly he grabbed both your arms, a worried look appearing on your face as you looked back at his own concerned form.

“Are you still talking to him? That..”

“Les? No..I ain’t spoke to him in sometime. Is everything…okay Paul?”

“Keep away from him.” He spoke in urgency. “Louis is being dragged by that man – no – that devil. He ain’t got his claws in you yet, he’s tryin. Don’t let him take your wings, your light, please.” Paul warned, though his grip was as if you were going to disappear if he even thought to let you go. “Are you faring well? The birds asked about you, about your mind.”

“I’ve been alright, I assure you Paul. I want to put your uneasiness to rest, I’m takin’ good care of myself and can only hope that you are too.” You placed your hands against his own arms, giving him a reassuring squeeze before seeing him nod slightly, letting his grip slide and hands fall to his sides. “Been thinkin about what I’mma do with myself. Only job I have is running the club currently, I’ve started taking breaks though. Feels good, clearing my mind a much as my body. Sometimes you need a break from the loud music and attention, it gets to be too much for some people – for me. Being in the company of a good book at the end of the day can sometimes cleanse the soul.”

It wasn’t until then that a thought came to mind and you dug in your pocket, pulling out a silver chain necklace with a dove and a cross charm dangling from it. “Meant to give you this a while ago. Was from my own. I thought that maybe you’d find better use in it than me.”

Paul blinked for a moment, looking at the necklace in slight awe and confusion as it puddled into his hand, the chiliness of the metal bringing slight goosebumps. He looked at the piece of jewelry before rapidly shaking his head, balling his hand around it before trying to stuff it back in your hands, “I can’t – I couldn’t, you need them. Close to your heart.”

“Paul, please...I don’t mind. They would probably want it this way anyhow, not like any of my family’s gon ask about it anyhow.” As Paul opened his hand to drop the necklace in your palms, he could no longer feel it as your hands wrapped around his one. When you pulled away, none of you had it in your hands. Instead, it was somewhat wrapped around his wrist, a little trick you learned some time ago.

“I have to go, Paul, but I’ll see you soon, alright? Tell Ma du Lac I said hello, and make sure that brother of yours behaves!” You called out as you started making your way out of the yard, having eaten and drank your fill, and knowing Paul had yet to realize the necklace was on his wrist. When he did, he’d do his best to give it back to you, but you’d be too far gone for that to happen.

As you finally made your escape, you listened to the band play and as the music got further and further as you walked your way home. It was some distance away, but you couldn’t trust yourself to drive – not like many people trusted you behind the wheel anyways. You assumed that you would simply resume the life you lived before Lestat – thinking that he may have left the city, found some other enjoyment elsewhere, but he didn’t seem like the type to do so. That didn’t sound like your Lestat.

Your thoughts paused for a moment and a frown appeared on your lips. He wasn’t truly yours. You didn’t know what relationship the two of you shared, though his sweet words always seemed to seduce you back into his arms.

But you could say the same, how whenever you swooned over him, he seemed to melt right into your arms, begging you to tell him what he may have missed from being busy the days prior, or to simply know what thoughts were running through your head. And you knew his tricks – that he was more than fully capable of reading your mind, yet he would ask you. He would sprawl across your body like a common house cat while you’d yammer on, combing your fingers through his blonde locks while he cooed in his french tongue.

Shaking your head and trying to rid of the bittersweet memory that left an odd taste in your mouth, instead savoring the night you spent speaking with Louis and his family, not knowing what sort of darkness would soon befall them once the sun rose.

The rest of your night was spent in the comforts of your room, spending a few hours cleaning, biding time, too exhausted to manage a club and too caught in your own thoughts to go chasing after Lestat like a dog. You knew where he stayed, but he was free spirited. Did what he want when he wanted. Did as he pleased. Who were you, a small country boy who stumbled upon a vampire – who would you be to try and stop him? You could have prowled in the nighttime to try and look for him, but at the end of the day, he was the vampire, and you?

Human.

Your days and nights turned normal, more than you really wanted. There was no thrill, no real spark other than the new people that appeared every now and then at the club, new faces, new performances. And as the name of your club spread throughout the south, your name grew in popularity. There was a time where you’d presented yourself on stage after weeks of new encounters, introducing yourself before the main performance came on. Apparently your pre-show talk had the audience in tears, laughing, clapping, and asking for more.

You had a way about yourself to somehow make the room that much brighter. Comedy was now your limelight, though it didn’t take a genius to know that things came to you naturally. It wasn’t normal for cubs at the time, but it was your business after all.

Outside the club, a few weeks after the wedding, you learned of Pauls’ passing. You stopped by to state your condolences to the family, and even happened to ask where Louis went. When you finally got in touch with Grace – seeing as his Mama had nothing good to say about him – she said he’d done ran off. Whether it be the guilt of not being able to protect his brother from themself or because of all the sudden burdens he felt collapse onto him all at once. You knew Louis was probably devastated, but his sudden disappearance? It had Lestat written all over it, though you had once again heard nothing from one or the other, so what was the point in chasing after a ghost?

The next few months, Lestat seemed to fade into the back of your mind, nearly forgotten. Your days grew busier and the months grew bitter. Life went on as if the vampire never existed. Grace and yourself wrote weekly when you didn’t have time to visit and vice versa. She’d attended one of your shows when she had the time, with Levi in tow and the two even agreed that you were quite the comedian, though they weren’t much club goers.

Of course it wasn’t an every night thing and you had most definitely started to enjoy the mornings where you could occupy yourself and destress from the night before. Having to be around people, entertain, greet, drink, talk with others everyday got tiring real fast. If you didn’t catch a break or have a little ‘you’ time, people would start seeing a not-so friendly side of you that only showed up if you were woken up rudely. Overstimulated, if you will.

There were nights where you grew lonely, where the words on a page couldn’t serve much as companions. Not that Shakespere was the best partner in crime, but it did some to escape the dry and plain days that left you bored itching for something new. You weren’t one to walk the strip, not with the people that normally ran past those parts. You had no problem with the girls, but at the moment, none seemed to fit your taste, and none too many men were as open as you were.

You got the occasional gossip from one Jane to the other John – how people questioned the way you dressed, the way you spoke, how you acted between man and woman and who’s attention you’d seek out the most. You didn’t let such a thing get to your head, whether it was discrimination for which way your pendulum swung or otherwise.

But it didn’t seem to stop trouble from coming your way.

Occasional threats in the mail, rocks thrown at your windows in the dead of night, your car tires being slashed and car scratched to hell, yet no one ever knew how it happened or who did it. None of your neighbors knew, turning a blind eye and moving on. Typical. Getting replacements weren’t much of a problem, not when the club paid most of the bills, but it was a constant reminder of how people saw you, and how they would treat you like any other they found to be different.

The worst of it happened when you were stuck walking home one night, all by your lonesome and of course you just happened to stumble upon a group of soldiers, sailors – whoever they were – who’d either heard about you or seen one of your shows. A quiet walk turned into a limp home, bruises adorning your body and a soreness coming from your ribs. You knew better, knew how to defend yourself and de-escalate things when the heat rose.

Unfortunately you’d been dealt the shit hand. Having been up against two, you may have had better chances, but five men that were drunk off their asses? There was no chance for you, and at that rate, it was better to cover your head and tuck while they dealt whatever repressed rage onto your body. Nearly gave you a shiner — instead delivering you a rather nasty gash through your left brow. Thankfully your body took more blows, but the soreness would just be another thing to sleep off.

After all, it was just another Friday night for you – and another one-liner for your comedy act.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Another champagne for you Mr…”

“Nah, not right now, but thank you Miss Rosey, though I think the boys in booth four might need another round. And if they are giving you any trouble–”

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll know if they’ll cause trouble for me!” The server gave you a mischievous smile and a wink before she made her way over to the designated booth while you were left to your lonesome in your own private booth. You’d been listening to the band play for about half an hour before you started to tune it out, the noise fading into the background as you inked paper on folded knee. You’d started writing after some time, whether it was your thoughts or not, you weren’t quite sure. The words flowed like music, maybe more, but it was hard to decipher yourself. They were just words after all, blurbs, word vomit that you needed to get out before the thoughts left you. As you were feverishly writing, line after line, you heard your name in an almost questionable fashion. The first time it seemed to be a blur in between the music, maybe just a buzzing in the back of your head.

The second time seemed to focus you back to reality, the music coming back as loud and as blaring as it was before. Your head turned up, brows furrowing as a man stood in front of the circular table that separated the half circle booth and themselves. “Sorry, I…I was a little too focused on myself, need something?” The paper on which you wrote on was slipped and closed into a small booklet that you now settled on the table. The man that called out your name was not someone you’d seen before or even met – and you were damn good with names and faces, a little quirk that always kept people on their toes.

“I was just wondering if you were the owner of said establishment, heard a bunch of people yapping about it so I came over to chat was all!” He held a hand out to you before finally introducing himself. “Name’s Viktor Sawyer, new around here.”

“I can tell,” you replied, gripping his hand before shaking it. “You don’t sound like you’re from here no way. Where’d you hightail it from kiddo?”

“Kiddo?” He laughed, “You look just as young as me, maybe younger. But me? I’m from upstate. Took a heap load of train rides, boat down the Mississippi, ended up here after an all day ride in the back of a box car after my last ticket was stolen.” The man seemed to joke at the end of his sentence, but it was all too real for how easy it was for some people to get pickpocketed. “Mind if I?...” Viktor then gestured to the booth in which you rolled your head and patted against the booth.

“Oh, I don’t mind, but the ghost might find it pretty rude if you give them an unwanted lapdance.” As you shrugged and looked at the young man, they stared back at you with confusion before a small chuckle left their lips, understanding that you were simply poking fun at the moment.

“I’m sure the ‘ghost’ wouldn’t mind it at all. Probably the most action than they’ve had in some years, yeah?” He joked right back, sending a quirky smile of your own onto your face. It'd been sometime since someone tended to match your energy, not that you were complaining.

“Champagne?” You offered up, tilting your glass towards the side. “And you can't just say you’re from upstate and expect me not to be curious. Down here, we ain't much for keeping secrets, and I ain't got no ill will towards strangers, so don't be shy.” Gesturing for one of the server girls, you two would be sharing words for the majority of the night.

Now, your club was as thriving as all get up, but there was always a drawback as it was back in the days. Only certain people could get in, people with money, people with a name. No old Sam on the street could just waltz their way in, it was almost prestigious in a way. Not like you cared much for the highlights, seeing as you came to New Orleans a simple man with ideas of starting new. Of making your name for yourself. It almost happened overnight – it did happen overnight.

It wasn’t to be expected, but it was a pleasant surprise. The thought of the blonde vampire, creature of darkness, the man who seduced you with not only words, but his entirety…he’d done so much for you. And all you did was make him laugh. A joyful, boyish, carefree laugh as if he hadn’t laughed in centuries. True laughter, pure, not from a cruel dead or joke – not to spite someone – it was simply the joy he amounted by being with you.

Beyond the past thoughts of Lestat, you indulge yourself in Viktor Sawyer, a businessman from New York. After getting a few drinks in him, he spoke about his travels and the unsavory events that came with it. He was a workaholic as much as he was an alcoholic. He was looking for work, a partnership more like but he didn’t specify what. He had been twice divorced, let slip out that he seemed to dance to a different tune – not that you minded – but three hours passed and he was drunk on booze and wine.

He was a good six foot tall man, granted, he was a handsome fellow. Piercing green eyes, slick, short blonde hair, the suit he wore looked too tight on him. At one point the two of you were laughing at nonsense yet you were still somewhat sober, having only sipped through a glass or two while Viktor had ordered something a little stronger – had enough money to pay past the bill and even laid out a grand tip for the waitress.

Which led you to where you were now, roaming the streets of the quarter with a drunk businessman on your shoulder. It wasn't a great look for you as allegations and rumors were soon to spread, but at such a late time in the night others would probably be as drunk as Viktor was. His words were slurred but it seemed he was trying to flirt with you, hand running down the side of your neck and down your chest, doing his best to fiddle with the buttons on your white dress shirt.

And with him unable to tell you where he was staying, your only other option was to either leave him to some mugger or – to be a gentleman and let him sleep off the drinks for the night under a roof.

You just wished that it didn’t have to be yours.

By the time you’d gotten through the front door, Viktor draped over your own body like he was trying to be worn, you sighed heavily. “Alright Vik, gonna get you some water, let ya rest till the morn.” You were somewhat tired, seeing as your nights and days blurred and your body always needed a good 12 hours before it could get used to your odd schedule. You watched as the businessman seemed to flop himself on the couch with a bit of your guidance as well, reaching up to try and tug you down with him, “Vik–”

“Ain’t gotta be like that sweetheart, just returning the favor!” Viktor had already stripped off whatever overcoat was on his body, his breath reeking of alcohol as it wafted against your face. It caused you to inwardly cringe at the smell, but you knew the man was drunk off his ass. You weren’t much in the mood either, not like you’d seen much action in some time. But the man was intoxicated as hell and you weren’t interested. He leaned in close, trying to hold your face before you snatched yourself away.

“Viktor, come on buddy. I can’t do this, believe me. You’re a…nice guy and all but uh…”

“Oh baby please, you were lookin’ at me like I was a damn meal back at the club. Don’t tell me ya’ kept me laughing just for kicks?” He slurred, leaning in once more and almost placing his entire body weight onto you. Is that what he thought? That you wanted to get him into bed, even though it simply seemed like you two were just having a good time as newly acquainted friends. “Come on babes, you know how to have a fun time, right?”

Your eyes rolled as you helped Viktor onto his feet once more, watching as he stumbled to try and finger your shirt off. Even as you led him into your room and pushed him onto the bed, he sat back with a cocky grin upon his face. “Nuff with the nicknames ‘Slick’. Imma get you some water, now lay ya’ ass down. I brought you here because you could barely tell me where you were stay’n. Now, cool down before I do what my ma would do and beat the sense out and back into ya’.”

It was only then that when you turned around to walk away, your arm was grabbed and suddenly you were pulled into his lap. Yes, you could handle yourself against the man, not afraid of him at the least. You’d dealt with much scarier than a horny, boozed up businessman.

Scoffing, you felt his sloppy movements of his arm wrapping around your waist and a hand at the front of your throat. No wonder he was twice divorced with such a limp wrist on him. You didn’t care about how he seemed to whisper in your ear or try to kiss against your neck. It only made you retract, snatching yourself away again before hearing Viktor almost whine out. “Baby–”

“I ain’t ya’ baby, Viktor,” you stated plainly, back towards the man before continuing. “And don’t make me regret doing the right thing.”

“Taking me home?”

“Taking you in rather than leave’n you out of the street!” It was then that you felt Viktor cop a feel, in which case something in you turned. You whipped around, quick movements before your hands pinned Viktors against the bed, staring him down as you hovered over his body, straddling his waist as you kept him from moving or trying to make another move on you. Staring him down, you did your best to show some sort of intimidation, but the sudden actions seemed to spur the drunkard on, biting his bottom lip in amusement.

“Got no problem with you being on top either, I can play that game with you!”

You groaned out in annoyance, feeling the mans’ growing arousal as he tried to roll his hips up into yours. “Tired of your shit Viktor, get it together.” Pushing him back onto the bed with no sympathy for his drunken stupor you made your way out of the room, leaving the man to call your name as he sprawled upon the bed. You could hear him calling as you slipped into the kitchen and instead of fixing him anything to help him sober up, you splashed your own face. When did you get so strict, so antsy? You hadn’t had a night to yourself in some time. And for someone to be in your bed, to want to indulge in filthy pleasure, who were you to deny him? He was good looking, but drunk off his ass. And from the sounds of it, he wanted to be the one to lay you out for the night. You definitely weren’t interested.

Couldn’t seem to figure out if something was wrong with you at the time. Not to say you weren’t flattered by the other advances, before and after he was sloshed, but you felt nothing in retaliation. You simply had a good laugh, a few drinks, you hadn’t meant to charm him or give off that you wanted to sleep with him. Or did you? Lonely nights in an empty bed, an empty home no less. You weren’t the least bit interested in the whorehouse, not as if you didn’t care for the ladies themselves – calling you sweetheart and whatnot – but it wasn’t your current taste.

Splashing water onto your face, you calmed your racing thoughts down. Maybe one night wouldn’t hurt. Maybe something like this would help your mood from the normal drag. You were afraid you’d end up all mugfaced and mopey like Louis if you didn’t have time to truly enjoy yourself without it being a job or forcing yourself to do so. As water dripped down your face, your thoughts were split between “what would change in one night,” and “I don’t even like him like that! I’ll just sleep it off on the couch”.

Your mind seemed to go quiet just as Viktors calls for you went silent. Only then did you thank the higher powers that he finally passed out or gave up on his attempts to get you back there. Stripping off your own overcoat and walking back into the main room of your home, you dropped said cloth on the floor only to stand there frozen, stiff as a board once your head moved to look up rather than at your feet.

“Lestat?”

Your lungs seemed to lose air as you stared at him, confused as much as you were shocked. You questioned yourself, not knowing if you made him up in your fit of loneliness or if he was actually there, in the dim lighting of the room. He stood there, at the bottom of the steps that lead to your room but also against the wall that was directly across from the doorway of the kitchen.

That flawless face, chiseled jaw, god given face, wavy blonde hair you ran your fingers through more times than you could remember, his broad yet sculpturesque physic, those blue pools you’d get lost in no matter the time of day – it was him. In all his glory. It was only then that you finally came to your senses and realized that there was red dripping from his hands, not only coating his fingers, but it was dragged over his mouth – smeared – and slung across his shirt like a work of art. There was an almost unreadable look in his grey-blue hues, ones that could and did challenge the most beautiful of days, shaming the sky in comparison.

He didn’t move, almost like a statue, but with – what you could only assume was blood – slowly dripping down his fingers and onto the floor, it reminded you that you were not frozen in time. That he was there in all his glory, missing his normal presten overcoat that would go beautifully with whatever suit or undershirt he chose to wear, his blonde wavy hair let down, a bit unkempt compared to how neat and groomed he normally kept himself, but his body was still as water, as unmoving as a statue.

Almost.

You could barely tell if he was breathing, the stillness of his body startling you as you trekked carefully but moved in closer to him. It was only then when you inched towards the vampire did you notice the small trembles, the minute quivering of his hands that slowly clenched into bloody fist, nails digging into his palms. His chest rose and expanded as he took a breath in through his nose, jaw tightening as he stared you down. A sliver of fear seemed to jump up your spine at the subtle movement, but it didn’t stop you from slowly closing in. You were a mere stride away from standing directly in front of him, but before you could call out his name again, like a ticking time bomb – he exploded.

“You fool!” He roared out, causing you to nearly stumble back onto your ass. There was a look of anger written all over his face that was once completely unreadable. “You! You are pathetic! Ungrateful! Rien qu'une plaisanterie vivante, affamée d'amour et d'attention!” A loud crash could be heard as he used his strength to knock over a display, the power behind his hand flinging the rather sturdy and wooden case into the wall across the room as it caught air. Wood chips splintered every which way, glass shattering and sprinkling onto the floor. Your eyes flicked from the damage to the man who stood before you, chest now heaving as he started spewing curses in his french tongue and pointing at you.

You could barely understand him, though a few curses here and there from what he taught you, but you were more confused than scared at the moment. Fear was in the back of your mind, not as present as the sudden concern. “Les! What are you on about?”

“Espèce d'idiot! Espèce d'idiot de campagne, de petit ver de terre! Do not play dumb with me!” Lestat proceeded to call you out by your name as he spewed what you could only depict as insults.

Suddenly he started laughing.

His seemingly harmless chuckles escalated into full blood cackles, the man laughing harder and harder till it seemed almost hysterical. His pupils were dilated, fangs bared with blood dripping slowly down his chin, and his hand shaking as he continued to spew fire in your direction. “You think that you can replace me? De copier quelque chose qui ne peut pas être remplacé! Do you know who I am chéri?” Lestat questioned, almost softly before his tone roared out once again. “Do you know what I am!?”

“Lestat, what happened? You come in here all covered in blood after being away for this long, yelling at me?”

The vampire could not hear you, not over his constant ranting and yelling and french tongue that seemed to go on, venom seeming to be laced in every consonant and syllable. “After everything that I have given you! Comme mon cœur bat pour toi! Et pourtant tu essaies de faire en sorte qu'un salaud blond essaie d'être moi?! HA! Your funniest attempt at a joke yet! To stoop so low!”

“Les…” You were now more concerned than ever, watching as he stared pacing as if to restrain himself at the moment, his nails having swiped at the wall, ripping up the wallpaper and digging into the bricks that were settled underneath, carving into the harsh material while his hand remained unscathed.

“You are just like any other! Pitoyable! L'excuse la plus triste pour un homme! Rien qu'un chien qui a soif et aboie pour en savoir plus! Tellement impatient que vous ayez essayé de trouver quelque chose dont il n'y en a qu'un!” Lestat cackled as he seemed to move back and forth, looking towards you with a predatory gaze before looking at the floor, shaking his head and almost growling. Restraining himself.

“Les!” You tried again to call out for him, but he did not waver.

“Humans, you are all the same…! You are all ungrateful, insatiable pests! Meat for the slaughter and lambs for wolves! Je devrais vous vider et regarder la vie pitoyable que je vous ai fournie clignoter brièvement dans votre cerveau idiot..what was I thinking! You! You?!” He pointed at you once again, the manic grin never leaving his face. “J'ai eu pitié d'un chien qui n'a aucune loyauté!”

“Lestat! Calm–”

“Good for nothing! A dull piece of entertainment! A clown above all clowns! Une pitoyable excuse de fils! No wonder your kin left you high and dry!”

“Lestat!–”

“Une pitoyable excuse pour un humain! Who would ever want you anyways! Laper goulûment ce qui reste d'une bonne chose! An ungrateful mutt!” His voice came out raw, almost hurt as he overwhelmed your own voice, giving you no space to speak.

“Les–”

“N'étais-je pas assez bien pour toi?! Je ne te suffisais pas! Too boring for the great comedian you came to be?! Est-ce pour cela que vous avez choisi de vous coucher avec une excuse pathétique pour un remplacement!?”

“Le–”

“Je ne suis pas assez bien pour toi!? Assez bon pour garder seul votre amour seul?! Is that too much to ask for!?”

“LESTAT!”

Your voice seemed to boom with sudden authority, your hands finding his wrist before pushing his body back into the wall, practically sandwiching him between that and your own body. The room that was once filled with the rampant yelling and swears of French from Lestat and your desperate attempts to call out for him were now silenced. It was now only the pants between the both of you as his was from his outburst, you, from the sudden burst of adrenaline that seemed to flow through your veins. The two of you stared each other down, getting lost in one another's gaze.

Lestat had never heard you so demanding, never having raised your voice in such a way, not even in a playful manner towards him. You’d never been rough with him, and even in bed he would have to coax you to handle him with something other than tenderness in the mix. Your grip on his wrist was enough to bruise any other human, but the strength you’d projected was enough to stun the vampire out of pure shock.

The once tense and chaotic air calmed as the two of you stood in silence, you waiting for him to calm down and get he was waiting on you to yell at him, attempt to hit him, hurt him for the destruction and his outburst. His temper was unruly, unpredictable like the weather sometimes, but he'd never flared up in front of you in such a way.

But instead of harsh words or screams back in his face after all he said and done – most you could barely understand – you'd slowly shifted your hands. Moving from holding his wrist, up his arms and shoulders and to his face, cupping it gently, while the same concerned look lingered in your loving gaze. “Les…speak to me. Here I was, worried sick about you for weeks on end, and now you come here? Covered in blood and yellin who knows what?”

You did not scold him or respond with hatred. You spoke in a soft tone he almost didn’t recognize, as if trying to coax a scared and wounded animal.

He didn't respond, instead staring at you with mild confusion. Why were you treating him so kindly, even as he looked and acted as if he was two seconds away from ripping your throat out and tearing apart your innards.

Lestats' form looked disheveled, his blood coated dress shirt now somewhat torn, the collar ripped and stretched down, exposing the skin on his right shoulder and arm as the cloth dangled pitifully. A mess he was and yet you held him so gently, spoke to him so kindly, so sickeningly sweet in his eyes.

Your foreheads touched as you leaned in, noses brushing as you claimed his attention yet again, seeing the dazed expression, almost as if he couldn't believe what was happening. You knew the blood on him was from upstairs, that your guest was most likely dead from the bloody footsteps that lead down the main room.

Suddenly his lips lifted in a snarl. “You smell of him, that drunkard—”

“I helped him for the night. Was bein’ kind and all. We had a drink, but I didn't feel anything for him Les.” It was your turn to interrupt him, thumb brushing against his cheekbone as blood stuck to your own palms. You could tell that he was angry, possessive even, but you'd never seen it to this existent. Only then, after holding him for so long did you realize his face was ice cold, blood on his mouth but his body void of warmth.

“Did you not feed on him Les? You're colder than a bare ass in winter.”

Even that seemed to keep him shocked, how you noticed the little things, that the warmth of fresh blood did not flow through him. Only you would pick up such minute details at that moment, only you paid him that much attention. “I cared not for his putrid blood.” He muttered, your gaze holding his own as he wished to look away. He wasn't embarrassed, but it seemed as if he was almost flustered, confused even as his brows pinched.

“You haven't changed much. Still the magnificent…unpredictable Lestat.” You knew now why his anger flared up, the sudden appearance and unprecedented feelings. He didn't like the idea of someone else in your bed, someone who seemed to resemble him – even though you didn't see the two looking any more similar than a black and a white horse. “Lovely, I wasn't gonna lay with him if that's what ya’ think. He wasn't my type anyways,” you attempted to laugh, though it came out as more of a sad half winded chuckle.

“I apparently only have space in my heart for the man who always laughs at my jokes…no matter how bad they are.” Your own gaze lingered towards his stained lips before glancing back up. “For the French man who came to me at the bar, listening to me yap up a storm. Who lied with me in the field and gave me hope for a future…one I thought I would never be worthy of, just as I feel unworthy of the love that man gives me and shows…" As corny as you normally were, this was something you wanted the vampire to understand. That as a human, fragile being that could be killed by his hands, you still loved him. Even now. Even as you tried to forget about him, to think of him as nothing but a dream for as long as he was gone, your heart yearned for him dearly.

As those last words tumbled from your mouth, your lips crashed into each other. It would be humorous to say that sparks flew, but there was a sudden fire that seemed to flare inside of you. It was bound to the both of you, the further in you two got, the hotter and brighter that flame got until it was a raging inferno. The kiss went from being one of longing to a much sloppier, needy entanglement. The metallic taste didn’t bother you, barely phasing you. Your hands went from cradling his face to holding him, threading through his hair and one lowering to his waist to keep his body close. In retaliation, Lestat held your own face, the sticky blood smearing onto the side of his face. You didn’t dare pull away as you felt the nips at your bottom lip, his tongue wrestling with your as your lungs were slowly deprived of oxygen. You mumbled his name against his lips, subtly pulling away to find air, but Lestat refused to let you. He almost let out a possessive growl that rumbled in his chest, almost unnoticeably as he didn’t need air and wanted to soak you up in every way, shape, and form.

By the time you’d been let go, he barely let you move away, foreheads touching yet again as your lungs did their best to regain what was lost. You were panting and lightheaded, a thin string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his, swept away with his tongue. There were no words shared at that moment, lost in each other's loving gazes as your hearts were racing, thundering like wild horses and unruly storms. There was a twister of emotions swirling within the both of you, and yet you simply couldn’t put them into words.

Your lips pressed against his briefly, only to start peppering kisses onto his skin. Against the side of his lips and down his jaw, against his bloody throat, down to his collar and shoulder. You left a trail, admiring him, pampering him, spoiling him with your love and adoration like you normally did. Something you never strayed from. Your kisses kept, from his shoulder down his exposed arm, all the way down to his blooded knuckles in which you pressed your lips to as if he was royalty. “Les,” you muttered against his hand, watching as he seemed to shudder.

The look in your eyes had shifted to something more, a desire, a hunger. He could feel your sudden desire, blazing like the fire that roared within you.

You both wanted each other, needed each other.

Bad.

“Lestat–” The vampire in question hushed you with his finger, tilting you chin before pressing a kiss against your lips yet again. When he pulled away, he practically purred out.

“One moment mon chéri..” His voice was barely above a whisper as you chased after his lips, whining as he slipped away from your hold and moved up the stairs. When he was suddenly out of sight, you were left standing alone and wishing for him to come back in your arms, but you would be patient, just one last time. But now that you were here, you were like an excited puppy who’d just been told to sit.

“Course he done got me all riled up, then just…” You gestured towards the stairs as you spoke to yourself, sighing and wiping the blood away from your mouth with the back of your hand. You could only imagine the mess in the room if Lestat had dealt with Viktor. The amount of blood and the fact that he didn’t drink from him was rare, to say he had a distaste for someone's blood when you knew he fed upon others and sapped their life away as easy as a snap of your fingers. And yet he was careful every time he drank from you. Tender, making sure you didn’t pass out or lose consciousness, listening to your heart rate and showing much restraint to not be as greedy as he wanted with you.

Even he knew that if you egged him on, it would be that much harder to contain himself. Fortunately you didn’t have to wait long before your name was called, which caused you to scurry up the stairs so fast that you almost face planted by the time you got to the top, grabbing onto the railing before turning into your room.

It wasn’t as bad as you first thought, the bed looked perfectly fine beside the covers being pulled here and there, but you could see the blood seeping through the carpet on the opposite side of the bed. It was only then that you heard a small whistle, looking over towards the side where the bathroom was. Lestat stood in the doorway, shirtless, the blood on his face and down his neck having been rinsed and wiped off, beside the obvious smudges still left on his skin. Though there was one thing that stood out rather boldly against his skin.

Perfectly painted onto his lips was a rather glossy – oily even – rich scarlet color that popped in comparison to his pale skin.

Not blood.

No.

Lipstick.

He chuckled as he watched your head tilt to the side rather curiously, thankful that he couldn’t feel the heat that traveled to your face. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you mon chéri,” Lestat started as he slowly made his way over to you, almost as if he was prowling. Before you knew it, he’d pushed you back onto the bed, straddling your lap with your face now in his hands. You melted at the feeling, almost as touch starved as he was for you. Your hands now placed on his own waist you pulled him closer, both of your bodies buzzing with a newfound arousal.

Lestat leaned closer to your face once more, head tilting as he captured your lips once more. A hum escaped you as you could taste him yet again, letting out an audible groan as your groins rolled into one another. You wanted him badly. You were smitten with the man, his voice, his touch, the need to have him in your arms and in your bed, it was a greed you wanted to give into.

Another whine left you as his lips left your own, moving to kiss the corner of your mouth and then your cheek. Your jaw was next, his lips pressing against every inch or your jawline and even underneath. He’d kissed down your throat as you tilted your head up, exposing more of yourself to him as he continued his path. Lestat had to stop himself from wanting to prick your throat. He could hear the blood just below your skin, feeling the heat it gave off as it ran, how good it would taste after straying away for so long.

You couldn’t control the moan that left your lips as he showered your throat in almost endless kisses, down your collar and against the crooks of your neck. By the time he’d finished and met with your dazed face again, he seemed very proud of his work.

As your half lidded eyes glanced down at Lestats face, you could see him practically glowing, as radiant as ever, even with the smudged lipstick on his lips.

Though it was your appearance that seemed to get him even more eager to take what was his.

In a flash, you two were on each other, magnetized as your hands groped and felt against one another. Clothes were ripped off, shredded, torn, thrown in this direction and another, but neither of you cared for the mess. You only cared for each other, like you were the only two left in the world. Rolling around on the bed, you ended up locking your arms under Lestat, keeping him in place as you leaned down and assaulted his throat, marking him up the best you could.

You knew he liked it rough, but it was hard to do so when you practically worshiped him. It wasn’t an act, did. But you missed him like the stars and the moon and you wanted him to know that deep down. That you loved him, whether he reciprocated or not. You wanted to be selfish, keep him in your arms forever. And as selfish as it was for you, you only hoped that he wanted the same, even as you were weaker than the vampire himself.

The guttural noises left Lestat as you bit down near the crook of his neck, hands slipping down to his bare thighs as it hooked onto your hips. His head was thrown back into the pillow that rested under his head, blonde hair sprawled out behind his head as he called your name once more, feeling as needy as ever. “Don’t tease me mon chéri, I’ve been too long without you…”

Grunting out, you felt his fingers against the back of your head as you proceeded to leave marks against his throat, hickies and dark bruises, but not deep enough to break or to draw blood like you wished. When you pulled away to look at your work, his hand caressed the side of your face and he watched as you leaned into the feeling pressing your lips against the side of his palm before looking down at him with a sense of yearning. A longing that’s been stirring inside you since the first week you missed him.

“Normally you are the chatterbox instead mon garçon de la campagne. Why the sudden silence?” Even after the intrusion, outburst and overall assault that happened not too long ago, he enjoyed your voice. How you praised him and cared for him so. It was unorthodox that you weren’t speaking, even now. Not to say that he didn’t like your brutish noises as you indulged yourself, but it was one of the qualities that made him attracted to you.

It wasn’t until that statement did you look Lestat dead in the eyes and spoke. “Doll face, I love you to the ends of the world and back, but right now I just want to hear you scream my name.” That seemed to stun the blonde once again. “And I got better uses for ma’ mouth right now. Not enough time to talk.” Your voice shifted towards a lower town as you dipped down to assault Lestat's chest, one of your favorite places to spoil.

As the vampire's voice rang within the room, his back arching off the bed as you did your best to mark up his chest in bite marks of all sorts. You found great joy in seeing his body react in such a way as your mouth enveloped one of his nipples, tracing your tongue around the sensitive nub before using the edge of your teeth to tug, his body pressing up against yours and nearly lifting off the bed itself.

But Lestat wanted more. He’d been away for too long and was tired of the foreplay. “I…I am not a virgin,” he panted out. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Let me treat ya’ like it anyways baby doll…”

And as his eyes rolled to the back of head, your mouth loved on and against every part of his body, your fingers finding spots that made his body curl and mewl in weakness as he wanted more. The slow and tender you fed him lit his entire body up in the best way imaginable, his voice loud enough for anyone in the quarter to hear.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Your back ached as you sat up from the bed, the stinging sensation of Lestat’s nails running down skin lingered even hours after wearing him down the best you could. The beauty in question rested right beside you, curled up in the sheet and his head nuzzled up against your side.

You knew that he wasn’t asleep, but simply closed his eyes to briefly rest. He’d have to return home soon, to rest inside his coffin and to dispose of the body that was unfortunately still slumped against the side of the bed. In the heat of things, you barely cared that there was a dead person mere feet away from you as Lestat was the only thing in your mind through the night. As you made your way off the bed and into the bathroom, your lower waist was just as roughed up from the rather crushing gripped Lestat had with his legs clinging onto you with such force.

You could barely remember how many times you made him cum that night, but it was enough that your own hips were starting to bruise. His voice calling out your own was like a symphony of its own, causing a cheeky smile to appear on your lips. By the time you’d gotten into the bathroom and stepped in front of the mirror, you were shocked. On not only your lips but splayed all over your cheek, neck, and even covering the majority of your collarbone was lipstick stains from Lestat.

It hadn’t registered back then how much he’d done, but now it was clear as day, he marked you. You could remember him muttering how he would erase any trace of that drunk businessman, especially if there were any traces of him on you. Your neck itself was sensitive as all getup, especially after Lestat fed off you that night. No wonder you felt light headed and weak on your feet. “God, I hope this can wash off,” you muttered to yourself, though you weren’t opposed to the idea of Lestat doing this more often.

“I doubt it will…” Lestat stepped in behind you in all his nude glory before hugging against your waist and placing his chin against your shoulder. “And if it does…I’ll do much worse than this.” A grin appeared on his face as his looked at you through the mirror, watching as you replicated the same grin. For the moment, the two of you stayed there, swaying in one another arms before the vampire spoke up. “I..I am cursed with my maker's temper…I meant no harm. I saw that man in your bed when I came to surprise you and–”

“No need for an apology Les…I missed you too.” Turning your head, you kissed against his hair before sighing. “You were gone for so long..thought you’d up and left. Wasn’t gonna bother you no way if you didn’t wanna see me.”

Lestat stared at you in silence for the longest before shifting his gaze elsewhere. “I have a good reason for why I was gone. I did not merely abandon you…but there is someone I have to speak with you about.”

“Who?” There was only one other person that you could think of at the top of your head, especially with the series of events that had happened in the past.

“Louis…”

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a/n : who let me cook?? Anyways, thank you for reading so far! Replies and repost are appreciated! Thank you for reading!

please do not repost my work on other sites! thank you! - @that-one-malereader-enthusiast

more from @that-one-malereader-enthusiast » MASTERLIST

You knew what caused this. Your unfortunate record of failed relationships left a gaping wound in your heart, one that you desperately wanted to be healed. Wishing that someone would, for once, choose you over anyone else. 

Originally, nearly a century ago, you had thought that person would be Fabian. Even with all the horrible things he had done, and made you do, there was happiness at one point between the two of you. 

In that first decade with him you lived wonderfully, showered in a kind of love you never thought possible, desired yet suffocated by his want. It wasn’t until he started bringing home new fledglings that the violence began, a new side of him peaking through the cracks of the mask he wore so well. 

You lost the man you loved to greed and obsession, forcing you away from him by his volatile attitude. He had started to raise his hand in your direction, often forcing blood from your veins with his gnashing fangs, making you feel utterly lonely and terrified in his presence. There was no more comfort anymore, no loving kisses, or whispered affections. 

At first, when you agreed to Santiago’s offer, you never suspected that those long forgotten feelings would come crawling from beneath the mossy rocks of your mind. 

You had agreed without thinking about what it would cost you, hearing the word happiness drip like honey from his lips, with a promise that he could provide what you had wanted for so long. You thought you would be able to view your relationship with the man through a neutral lens, but your aching heart craved warmth in the blizzard that was your ribcage. 

But now, after a year, each kiss Santiago placed on your lips made your stomach twist with a sickness that was too hard to describe. You were made into a mistress, where dread would twist through your soul and tie itself around your neck to choke you. Even more so when the whisper of a confession was on the tip of your tongue, threatening to tumble forth with each outing you had, too caught up in the delicacy of which he held you.

You had found comfort in his presence, revealing things about yourself that you had never dared utter to another person. Allowing your thoughts to flow freely when you were around him, naively assuming your secrets would be kept safely locked away within him. You knew better than to trust him, and although he had yet to disappoint you with betrayal, you still worried that the day would come. That yet another play would be written as a way to mock your life. 

The only thing that subdued your worry were the stories he shared in return, an honest look into the life he once had. 

That was what truly attracted you to him, when the layers of arrogance and self importance peeled back into a truer version of himself. 

But it eventually got to the point where you had to step away. Withdrawing yourself from Santiago in order to preserve what little sanity you had left. 

He didn’t seem to notice in the beginning, much too preoccupied by his two other lovers.

Most nights after performances, you would leave the stage without a word. You wouldn’t spare him a glance as you walked back to the greenroom and dressed down into your usual attire, readying yourself to clean the mess that was made that night. 

Whenever Santiago did try to seek you out, you would already be away from the theater with your mind shut away from the rest, allowing yourself the peace and quiet that came from your lonesome walks. 

More often than not, when you were at the theater, you would have your nose buried in a book, ignoring his voice when it drifted into your mind. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Santiago comments after one of his performances, his eyes focused on the flowers sitting on your vanity, pinching a petal between his fingertips. 

You were sitting in your coffin, a book in your lap. You only had two chapters left, the paper soft against your fingers as you turned the page, not looking up at him for a moment as you finished reading another paragraph. 

“I’ve lost interest in spending time with you.” You reply simply, closing the book over your index finger so you don't lose your place, “You’ve fulfilled your promise, so I do not see a reason to continue this arrangement with you.” 

The man slowly stepped closer to your coffin, crouching down so he can be eye-level with you. A small smirk curves the corner of his mouth, his head tilting slightly to the right as he looks at you. 

“Well, if this is how you feel then allow me to take you on one last hunt. Just the two of us.” He proposed the idea with ease, not seeming hurt by your words in the slightest. 

You hesitate, knowing how easily you would slip back into the same heartbreaking routine. The restraint you had was quickly slipping as his eyes softened, examining you closer and attempting to reach into your thoughts to see what troubled you so much. 

“Please allow me to provide you with one last kindness, my dear.” 

In the same way he always did, a hand extended towards you, expecting you to easily slip your fingers between his. And unfortunately for you, you accepted it one last time. Allowing him to easily tug you to your feet, watching as you step over the lip of your coffin and adjust the fabrics of your skirt. 

He grabbed your cloak from the back of the chair in front of your vanity, draping it over your shoulders with a gentleness that made you want to slap him. An irritation settled heavily over your heart as you glanced around the green room to see it vacant of his other lover. An unsurprising realization. 

“I know of this small get-together being hosted tonight, sure to be enough booze to make the homeowners dumb enough to welcome in any guest.” Santiago muses as he smooths down the wrinkles in your cloak. 

You didn’t respond to him, simply brushing past him and walking up the stairs that led out of the green room. The man lingered in his spot for a second, watching you walk away and turn to him. 

“Well?” You raise your brows expectantly, waiting for him to follow you towards the lobby. 

A small part of you recognized how cold you were being towards him, not allowing him a second to breathe out those honey words and reel you back into his intoxicating touch. The only thing keeping you from feeling guilty was the thought of him slipping away with Eglee upon your return, forgetting you entirely. 

The man beside you attempted to strike up some sort of conversation as you walk together, whether it was comments about the mortals around you, or mentioning a new shop that had recently opened up in town, you gave him the same short disinterested responses. 

His eyes narrowed slightly when you eventually looked at him, confusion taking over his features. 

The rest of the walk was quiet, tense, and you silently hoped that this night would go by quickly. 

The seventh and final body dropped at your feet, making you stumble backwards with a light giggle. Your eyes locked onto the man’s permanent terror etched onto his face. 

Your fingertips graze over the mantle of the fireplace where the ashen embers popped out onto the hearth as you throw a bloody handkerchief into the flames. 

Santiago wasn’t wrong about how much they would be drinking, the guests indulging themselves on various different wines and tonics. It made you feel airy, your limbs tingling pleasantly, with your body practically floating across the floor as you walked. 

You plopped down onto the loveseat and picked up a handmade card that was sitting atop the small side table. A smile stretching across your lips as you laugh again, holding the picture out to Santiago. He takes it and lets out a teasing ‘Ohh’, raising his brows at you. 

“Seems the man of the night was going to be married off tomorrow.” Santiago comments, his boot lightly tapping against the head of the man in question, “Hope his bride won't be too upset that he’s abandoned her.” A laugh tumbles freely from his mouth, letting the card flutter to the ground. 

He drops down on the couch next to you, his back to hit the cushions and lay his head on your lap, and you allow him to do so. In this moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay, you felt free of worry and responsibility. You hadn’t even remembered why you were so irritated to begin with, you couldn’t find it in yourself to even try and care. 

A shuddering breath comes from Santiago as you run your fingers through his hair, disturbing the strands from their perfected state. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, making you look down into his eyes. His hand was gentle against your cheek, subconsciously you leaned into his touch as his thumb pressed into your skin with a delicacy that made you lightheaded. 

His eyes were so soft, swimming with emotions that you couldn’t place. Whatever the two of you drank was surely taking a toll on the man below you, coaxing out a side of him that you rarely saw, something raw and real that was usually masked by his ego. 

Santiago sat up halfway, maneuvering so his back was against your thigh where he was able to wind his arm around your middle, bringing his face closer to yours. He moved in slowly, his nose bumping against yours teasingly, the soft velvet of his lips barely a whisper against yours. The anticipation of what he was going to do hung in the air, with you eagerly awaiting his next move. 

“You are simply magnificent.” With that he moves forward, the softness of his lips makes you dizzy, your body practically humming with excitement as your fingers weave through his hair.  

The kiss was slow, deliberate in his movement as he presses you further into the couch. The taste of blood lingered on his tongue, making your mind fuzzy as you brought yourself closer. 

“You haunt my every waking moment,” Santiago whispers against your lips, briefly stirring you from the haze that was consuming you, “Even in my dreams, you are there. Beckoning to me.” He sounded utterly pathetic in his confession, peppering your neck with kisses before marking a searing trail back to your lips, “I can not rid you from my mind. You have become the only thing that I can think of.” 

His words were rousing you from whatever love-drunk spell you were under, your world tilting as you processed what he was saying. These weren’t the same flowery words he would usually whisper to you in heated moments, it wasn’t seduction. Not when his voice sounded so raw with emotion, with his hands clutching onto your vest like you would disappear from beneath him. 

“Wh-” Your words are cut off when he nips at your jugular, the sharpness of his fangs  brushing against your skin but not piercing the surface, “Santiago-” 

“I have grown too fond of you, my love.” It was then that you noticed how his words melded together in a drunken slur, and you remembered that he had drank far more than you did. His fingers became a sickening pressure against your waist as he squeezed, “It’s beginning to drive me mad.” 

Suddenly you push him back, your palm flat against his chest as you separate him from your neck. There was a reddened wetness to his eyes, something that completely shocked you, making you narrow your eyes at him. 

This was wrong, you thought, utterly and absolutely wrong. 

“What do you think you’re saying to me right now Santiago?” You say cautiously, suddenly feeling much more sober than you had felt a minute ago. 

Even with your seriousness Santiago didn’t falter, his expression deepening into something you had only ever seen on stage. When you were playing his human lover, when he repeated the same rehearsed lines to you every single night. Yet this time there was no audience, nobody to bask in his talents, and this look was no acting choice. It was all too real, and that thought made your throat tighten. 

“I think I love you.” He had said it so quietly you probably wouldn’t have heard him if you were mortal, but it rang loud and clear in your mind. 

The words hit you forcefully, making you flinch away from him. A wave of nausea washed over you, your body going rigid beneath him before you pushed him away. It felt as if the air had been sucked from the room as Santiago’s eyes widened in realization, his loose-lipped confession hanging heavily above the both of you. 

All you could think about was how utterly unsurprising it all was. That, of course, he confesses this on the night you tell him you want to go your separate ways. He was so absolutely selfish it almost made you sick. 

“I can’t believe you.” Your words were harsh, quickly you stood from the loveseat and grabbed your cloak from the armrest. Leaving the home as quickly as you could, ignoring him as he called for you. 

Your ears rang as you finally got back to the theater, the doors being slammed open in your anger. The loudness of it echoed through the building, making Sam look up from the script he was writing as you walked past the stage and towards the stairs of the greenroom. 

He was absolutely unbelievable, disgusting even in his shamelessness. Taking the chance to say such things when your guard was down, surely he knew your feelings for him, how you craved the feeling of love so deeply it made you ache. 

Selfishness personified was what Santiago was. 

A voice broke through your anger, his voice. The man was behind you, his hand reaching out to touch your tense shoulder. You were faster than him, though, your hand around his neck the second his fingers grazed the fabric of the blood soaked vest you wore. You had him pinned against the wooden support beam in a blink, your eyes carrying a blazing fire of fury and agony. 

“Is it your goal to drive me to insanity, Santiago?!” You growl, not allowing him to budge from your strength, “A year you have worn me down! Making me feel loved before completely discarding me when you get bored, you’ve made me a pawn on your chessboard, and you are shameless about it!” Your nails dig into the skin of his neck, threatening to slash through if he so much as thought of speaking to you at this moment. 

His eyes were wide, almost fearful as you bear your fangs, “Do not underestimate my pain for weakness, Santiago.” Your voice lowered in a threat, “If you ever think of saying those words to me again in the way you have, I will make sure you suffer for it. I have let you use me for long enough, and now you have the audacity to confess to me tonight of all nights.” The man was practically trembling against your ironclad grip. 

He shivered against your touch as you drew yourself closer, something in his eyes darkening suddenly. You realized then that he was enjoying this. Disgust washed over you at that, your nails finally breaching the skin, blood dripping from the pin-prick punctures.

“You are unbelievable.” You spat, violently pushing his body into the wood once again before finally letting him go, “Pathetic.” 

By the time you released him, a small audience consisting of your coven members was behind you, Armand being one of them. 

“Trouble in paradise?” He asks in a teasing tone, his hands clasped behind his back. 

Your mind was spinning, your hands trembling at your side as the anger tore through your body violently. Every fiber of your being alight with absolute fury, there was no logical thought as you turned back around yet again towards Santiago, your hand balled in a fist and connecting with Santiago’s nose. 

There was a crack under your fingers, blood pouring from the man’s nostrils. Yet he didn’t raise his hand towards you, didn’t lash out, he just allowed you to do it. Staring at you with that same darkened look as he held his nose, the blood seeping between his fingers and dripping onto the floorboards. 

In seconds you were by your vanity, ripping open a small suitcase that usually held your costumes. You tossed out the clothes inside, allowing them to pile up beside your coffin as you grabbed various items. 

“Armand.” You spoke the name tightly, the word strained in your throat, “Allow me one thing, as a founder of this theater and one of your most loyal members.” Your back was still to him as you rushed to pack, “I will be taking a temporary leave, because if I do not separate myself at this very moment I will do something I will regret. I can promise you that.” 

Armand stood there for a second, tilting his head to the side as he watched you with disinterest, “I’ll allow it.” Is all he says before walking back to his office. 

“Thank you, Maitre.” You bow your head as you walk past him, your suitcase brushing against your thigh as you push past Santiago, making sure he stumbles back as you bump your shoulder against his. 

The theater shrunk into the background of your mind as you left. Allowing the anger to take you over, coaxing forward the monster inside. Never in your life have you been so utterly consumed by the feeling, not even with Fabian, where fear overpowered every other emotion. 

A smooth talking snake was Santiago. Drawing you in, taking advantage of your needy heart and trying to trap you in his hold with those three words. 

Selfish. Arrogant. Disgusting. Horrible. Egotistical. Charming. Handsome. Careless. Caring. Insightful. Smart. Dumb. Self righteous. Annoying. 

You walked out into the street in time to feign fear as a horse stepped in front of you. Your hand comes to your chest as you look at the person that held the reins of the carriage. Putting on the damsel in distress act as you stare at the man with terrified eyes. 

The man on the carriage spilled out quick apologies in French. His eyes worried as he asks if you’re okay, and you simply nod, attempting to make yourself seem smaller. 

“I’m so sorry sir!” You quickly say in English, hoping that he would sympathize just enough to offer you a ride. And he did. 

Luckily for you he was heading a few miles north. He dropped you off in front of a hotel where you attempted to find sleep beneath a bed, trying to shield yourself from the sun that broke through the sheer curtains during the daytime. 

After the third day, a part of you began to regret leaving the theater so suddenly, not thinking about your coffin in your fit of rage. But now, with the feeling having boiled down to a simmer, you began to wonder if it was time to go back. 

Then you would hear his voice, Santiago trying to beckon you back to your home that had now seemed like more of a prison. Even Armand had attempted in his stead, but he knew better than anyone that you were a stubborn person, telling you it sometimes reminded him of Lestat. 

“He’s starting to make mistakes during his performances.” Armand’s voice filled your mind after the fourth night of your departure, “Seems your chaotic display of anger has done quite a number on him.” 

“Good.” You respond, rolling your eyes as you turn the page of your book, curled up in a chair in your room, “Sad that I’m not there to revel in his humiliation like he’s done with me time and time again.” 

“You should return soon.” He tells you, “I do not want the other coven members to think they’re simply allowed to leave like you have.” 

“I’ll come back in time. Maybe next week if that’s suitable enough for you.” You knew he was right, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to go back just yet. 

He didn’t reply, simply leaving your words to hang in the air. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to change your mind. 

Yet you didn’t return that following week, or the week after that. Too stuck in place, exhausted and lost and so utterly lonely. 

One night you decide to go for a walk, wanting to satiate the hunger that settled heavily in your stomach. 

You haven’t eaten in a few days and you were beginning to feel weak, but the motivation to fix your problem was barely there. So you had to force yourself out, knowing that if you didn’t you would regret it. 

The half moon shone its bright light over the town you had settled in, stars twinkling in their dance amongst the clouds. Your eyes lingered on the necks of tourists and locals alike, hearing their pulses hammer its incessant rhythm, your mouth practically watering as you passed by each and every one of them. 

“Miss?” A voice said from behind you. 

When you turned there was a small girl, her eyes like a window, bright green mingling with blues. You noticed her pointed nails as she reached out to you. The sight of her made your stomach flip in a disgusting way. 

An immortal child, a crime against the very laws you set yourself to uphold and protect. The girl could’ve been no older than six, but the look in her eyes told you that she was older, maybe not by much but enough to make it obvious she was suffering in this small form she was trapped in. 

“May I please ask for your help?” Her voice was so small and fragile, her brown hair curled into tight ringlets that practically shimmered under the moon's light, “I can’t find my father.” 

“Wh-“ You were at a loss as you looked down at her, the baby blue cloak she wore and the pristinely ruffled dress made her look like a doll. 

“Mary!” 

An icy ocean wave crashed into you at the voice. Feeling as if you were being sucked down to the depths as your shoulders tensed, and your heart hammered loudly in your ears. A man glided past you with ease, his cloak fluttering in the wind, silken fabric gracing your hand, making you flinch as if you had been burned by the brightest flames. 

He crouched down, his hands large on her biceps as he looked at her. Lacy cuffs peaked from his sleeves, the fabric brushing against her chin as he brought a thumb to swipe across her cheek, where the smallest red tear had dropped. An innocent act you had witnessed time and time again when it came to immortal children, something you often fell for. 

The man himself had his hair tied back by a black a ribbon, the strands curling towards his neck, his silhouette hidden by the dark red cloak he wore. His pointed index finger playfully tapped the tip of the child’s nose, making her smile. 

“Naughty, running off from your mother like that.” He said with a lightness to his tone, not truly scolding her. 

You felt absolutely sick, nausea ripping through you. You were convinced that drinking dead blood wouldn’t make you feel the way you do at this moment. 

“Fabian.” You whisper the name before you can stop yourself. 

The man turned, looking up at you from where he was crouched. A kind smile, that same smile, gracing his lips as if a whole century hadn’t passed since you last saw him. His jewel-like eyes still held that same feigned calmness, that same serene look that once lured you in. 

“My…” He breathes out, finally standing in his towering height, “Seems it is quite a small world after all, isn’t it, little bird?” 

After all this time you thought he was dead, probably having thrown himself into the sun like his former coven. Yet here he stands, in fancy new clothes and an immortal child by his side calling him,

“Father, who is this woman?” The small girl's hand was dwarfed by his larger one. Her pointed nails barely peeked past his palm. 

“Oh thank the heavens.” Another voice said from behind you.

“Mama!” Mary called out, running past you and into the woman’s embrace. 

It was all too much to take in, but you couldn’t move. Your body stuck in place as Fabian placed a hand on your trembling shoulder, his pointed nails digging into the fabric of your cloak. He looked deep into your eyes, as if he was trying to read what he couldn’t hear. 

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, little dove.” He jokes, guiding you to turn around, “Rose, can you believe who Mary found?” 

The woman standing in front of you held a shocking resemblance to you. Her hair, her face, her clothes even looked the same as yours. Yet her expression was softer than yours, kind as she smiled the same smile Fabian did. 

“Oh my.” She whispers, walking closer so she can take you in fully, “It seems our dear Fabian does have a type, doesn’t he?” She giggles, her hand reaching out to pick at your cloak teasingly. 

“You know, I was quite surprised to see that you were staying at such a drab hotel.” Fabian whispered next to your ear, his hand tightening. 

It was then that you realized the world around you was frozen in place, much like you were. Leaving you trapped in the moment, “Seems my money has truly been going to waste, hasn’t it? Such a pity.” There’s a mocking tone to his words.

Terror gripped around your heart as you realized something much more grave about this situation you’ve been caught in. 

They knew you were here. And they found you on purpose. 

“Poor thing, she’s absolutely trembling.” Rose muses, bringing a curled index finger to your cheek, giggling when you flinch away from her touch, “Let us move this out of the street, shall we, my love?” She asks, her eyes briefly leaving you to look at Fabian. 

“That would be smart, yes.” Fabian nods, “We have a small cottage just outside of town, a dreary little place but it’s only temporary.” 

“Oh absolutely dreadful, that place.” Rose practically groaned, “Smells of mildew. But I think it’ll be to your liking.” 

Your lips parted in a gasp as a sack was thrown over your head, one that Fabian had hidden beneath his cloak. Shrouding you in darkness and allowing you to squirm in his tight hold as he picks you up. You could budge, the weakness in your body finally taking with the exhaustion of not eating or properly sleeping. 

The smell of mold filled your nose as you were thrown onto the floor carelessly. Your body hitting the ground with a violent thud, the sack was torn away, allowing you to blink and adjust to the candlelight that illuminated the room you were in. It was mostly empty aside from a desk and couch, the fireplace dusty and the floor covered in dirt. 

You tried to crawl back, but your mind began to churn inside your head, pain ripping through your head as a loud ringing echoed in your ears. Rose was looking at you with an intensity as she disoriented you, a small smile stretching across her lips as she coos, the wickedness inside her finally slipping out in the confines of their depressing cottage. 

Fabian crouched next to you, tilting his head and pursing his lips. His cold fingers trailing along your exposed calf where your dress had ridden up, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth as he chuckles softly to himself. 

The way he loomed over you made you feel like you had slipped through the fabric of time, feeling a sense of deja vu in the most horrendous ways. Slipping back to the many times where you would be cowering on the floor, crying as you cradled the body of another failed fledgling. 

“You know,” Fabian begins, his nails softly gliding along the skin of your ankle, “You are a terribly hard vampire to find, little bird.” 

The hardwood floor was cold as you were forced to lay back on it, your body no longer in your control. Fabian’s mind was strong, stronger than any vampire you had ever met, and he kept you nailed to the floor with little effort, narrowing his eyes slightly as he listened to your breath hitch fearfully. 

“It was smart to come to France, though. You know how much I loathe this country.” 

He then stands again, his freshly polished shoe coming down onto your leg and making it snap with a sickening sound. A scream rips from your throat as searing pain ripped through your calf, staring down at the awkward angle it now sat at. Tears springing forward instantly as you look back up to him with a horrified expression. 

When you were with him a century ago he was violent, hitting you, screaming at you endlessly, twisting your words and throwing them back at you just to start a fight. He had never gone this far, though. Never did he cackle at the sight of you writhing in pain, not like he did now, as his companion latched onto your mind and made it impossible to think as the bells started to ring once again. 

You curled into yourself, attempting to shield yourself from the way your world was shifting around you, your eyes unable to focus as your nose started to bleed. It felt as if your brain was boiling inside your skull, only given temporary relief as a familiar voice attempted to sink through it all. 

“H-” Your voice croaked out through the screams, feeling Fabian’s nails rip into your bicep and his fangs pierce the marred skin, “Stop!” You scream out, making the man above you shoot back, his eyes narrowing at you before he lets out a cackle. 

“Stop?” The word is trapped in his laugh, “You have been a burden on my mind for the last century, you putrid little mutt.” His fingers wind around your neck, the heel of his hand pressing into your windpipe as he chokes you, “A fucking disgrace you have become, my love, dreadfully dull and pathetic. Sulking in that hotel, starving yourself, wasting the gift I bestowed upon you.” He slams your head down onto the floorboards, “I should have killed you that night, like you begged me to.” He sneers down at you, bringing his face closer, 

“So I am here to make up for my mistakes.” 

You weren’t sure how long you were writhing on that floor. It could’ve been hours, or days. It was hard to tell when Rose was disorienting you, and Fabian was slowly draining you, drawing out the torturous pain as he tore into your flesh and fed from you. 

He commented on the bitter taste of your blood, and how it was sweetened by your fear. The warmth of it soaked into your back, a red pool clinging to your clothes and skin as you bled. Your neck had taken the brunt of his feasting, before he moved on to your wrists, cutting open your flesh with a sharpened knife. 

When Fabian got bored of drinking, he would sit back, playing with the wet fabric of your dress while he recounted the memories of his failed fledglings. Forcing you to relive each moment in your weakened state. His voice echoed the names, their faces invading your mind one by one, as if manifesting out of thin air to loom over his shoulder. 

The screams that once haunted you ripped through your mind like a thunderous shout, their eyes staring into yours as they died, the children that had been robbed of a good life because of Fabian’s selfishness and greed. Almost all of them died by your merciful hand, or beaten and broken by Fabian’s cruelty. They almost always called out to you, their eyes scared, clutching onto your like you were their mother, waiting for you to save them. 

The things you worked so hard to push away slipped back through the cracks of your mind with a vengeance. Tearing you apart from the inside out. You could only hope that your agony would soon be ended. 

Occasionally you could hear a familiar voice echoing amongst the screams, a gentleness that shone a light through the dark pit you were trapped in, calling out to you and attempting to beckon you home once again. 

“Sa-” Your mouth was terribly dry, feeling as if your tongue was made of sand as you tried to swallow, “Santiago.” The name was whispered like a prayer, your mind quickly slipping away from you as Rose narrowed her eyes, that incessant ringing churning your mind.  

The man standing next to your crumbled form hums, “Calling out another man’s name during a moment of passion is certainly cruel, wouldn’t you say?” His nails prod into a gaping wound he had cut into your sternum. 

Fabian grimaces as you cry, disgust twisting his features as if he wasn’t the cause, “I’m growing tired of your whining.” He sighs finally, “Let’s end this shall we?” His eyes darkened predatorily. 

His hand was petting your matted hair, pointed nails poking against your jaw as he forced you to look up at him with blurry vision, black spots floating around him as you tried to stay awake. 

“Death in the arms of the one who created you. Rather poetic, don’t you think?” 

He brought you into his arms in an almost loving embrace, his face buried in your neck as his fangs pierced the skin of your shoulder. Your veins felt like sandpaper as he drained you, making you dizzy, your eyelids drifting shut. In that moment you accepted your fate, after everything you had been through in your life, you felt like this truly was the only way it was going to end. 

The sound of wood splintering sank through your haze, making Fabian separate himself from your shoulder in confusion. 

Through the clouds that softened the corners of your vision you could see black masses of fluttering capes float inside the cottage. Someone ripped Fabian away from you forcefully. It caused you to fall from his hold, your broken legs unable to hold you up. 

The floorboards almost caught you, but arms wound around your waist quickly, gently lowering you to the cracked surface of the floor. 

There was a sickening sound of flesh ripping, bones cracking viciously as Fabian screamed out. A growling voice penetrated the tension that hung heavily around you, pure unbridled rage. 

You couldn’t move, couldn’t even find the strength to open your eyes as you heard the muffled sounds of a scuffle. The sound of yelling voices echo above you. 

Whatever words were said did not register in your mind. Every syllable blending together, muffled in your delirious state.

“Santiago!” You heard a voice yell, clear as day and booming through your haze, rousing you from the sleepless state you were slipping into, “That’s enough.” 

It was then that you finally succumbed to the darkness that was luring you in, your mind drifting away from the pain that pulsed through your body. Lulling you into a comforting quiet, where in your dream you were held in a gentle embrace of a man whose face you couldn’t see, only seeing a silhouette instead. 

When you eventually wake again, you’re wrapped in the embrace of silk sheets, your body stiff with a pain that radiates through every fiber of your being, making you gasp and whimper out a quiet cry as sharp pain shoots through you. 

“You’re alright,” A voice whispers next to you, making you realize you weren’t alone, “Try not to move too much, love.” 

You could only open one of your eyes, your head pulsing violently as you looked to your right. Santiago sat on a chair next to the cot you were laying on, his hand next to yours but not touching. 

The skin on your hand was blackened with char, a result of Fabian forcing your arm past the hearth of the fireplace in his cottage. Your legs were covered by the silk sheets, but you knew that the bones were still broken, feeling a sickening shift inside your skin as you attempted to move them, only resulting in another gasp being ripped from your chapped lips. 

“I worried about you.” Santiago finally said, the tip of his index finger merely grazing the burnt skin of your hand. There was a sadness in his eyes as he looked at your sorry state, “Armand told me that you weren’t answering as you usually do,” A redness began to build in his eyes, “Then I heard you calling out to me. The pain in your voice, it ripped a hole through me. Seems you’ve cast quite the spell on me.” He chuckles bitterly at the words, seeming surprised with himself for feeling the way he does.

There were no apologies flowing from his lips, which you were thankful for, you didn’t need his pity and he knew nothing could truly fix what happened to you. It was obvious that he felt guilty for what happened, that if he hadn’t been so careless, you would have never left in the first place. But you couldn’t place that blame on him. 

The man beside you stood slowly, afraid that quick movement would disturb the little peace you had. He let out a quiet sigh, slowly rolling up the sleeve of his shirt and biting into the soft skin of his wrist. 

“You must eat.” He whispers, allowing his blood to drip onto your lip. Hunger ripped through you like a ravenous wolf, making you surge forward and latch yourself to the cut, “That’s it.” The words come out in a whispered gasp. 

The next week went the same way. 

Your body was slowly mending itself back together, your bones healing painfully. Your suffering was luckily dulled by Armand, knowing that the coven members were growing restless by your cries, his words coaxing you into a dreamless sleep. 

In the quiet of the green room you would just allow Santiago to talk, telling you about all the things you missed during your time away, the petty drama between Eglee and Celeste, or the popularity of one of Sam’s new pieces. 

His voice gently coaxes you from the darkness without expecting a reply. He would joke, his smiles almost infectious when he laughed at something Sam said from across the room, the snark in the vampire’s voice making things almost feel normal again. 

Weeks melded into months, and your body was finally fully healed, but your mind was still dreadfully fractured by Fabian’s abuse. 

The events would sneak back up on you in your coffin like a drooling monster that wanted to eat you whole. The only thing that brought you peace in these moments was Santiago, your body practically melting against him as he joined you against the silk interior that lined mahogany, his whispered words lulling you back to sleep. 

The coven attempted to accommodate, but you were starting to lash out, your body flinching violently if anyone steps too close too fast, fear latching onto anger bubbling to the surface  if touches lingered too long. Your reactionary anger was to be expected, but it filled you with shame, apologies spilling from your lips as you attempted to pacify yourself. 

Painting helped, and focusing your mind on projects for the theater. 

You buried yourself in your work. Armand had given you a break from the spotlight, so now you had plenty of free time. You started to sew costumes again as well, practicing your embroidery, making the performances look more elegant and fancy. 

The relationship that was slowly mending between you and Santiago had quickly become an anchor to you. His presence bringing you back down to earth and the gentleness of his touch now being something you would seek out again. He made an effort to make as much time for you as he could. 

In all of it, you could never bring yourself to read the diary that Armand found in Fabian and Rose’s cottage. The searing truth of why he kidnapped you scrawled onto the white pages. Santiago had offered to read it for you one night, when you had voiced your temptations, but the second you saw the leather bound book you felt sick. 

You couldn’t even go down into the wet room after shows anymore, the dull screams trapped inside rocks and steel echoing through the putrid room. Fabian’s name was carved into the metal of his permanent coffin, Rose on another. 

It was difficult to deal with in a way, knowing that he would be down in that basement for eternity. Not that you pitied him, you just wished you had a choice in how he was disposed of. But with you incapacitated for weeks on end, Armand took the matters into his own hands, sealing away the companions forever. 

Santiago never told you what became of their immortal child, his eyes showing all you needed to know when you first asked. 

Ten years passed by quickly, with you seemingly stuck in place of your emotions, attempting and failing to push Santiago away for a second time. 

You had feared that he would eventually betray you, grow tired of you. That he would eventually abandon you for Eglee again. That you would be pushed into the backdrop with unimportance. But that moment never came, Santiago was with you more than anyone else in the coven, oftentimes being the one to seek you out instead of the other way around. 

A new century shines a hopeful light onto you, coaxing in growth and success for your theater. The nightmares finally begin to fade into the background after almost fifteen years, you even start to embrace your moments of happiness with an open mind, growing even closer to Santiago because of it. 

The New Year provided a big feast for your coven. 

When Santiago and you were walking around town one night, a mortal woman handed you a flyer for a small performance at a local residence to celebrate the holiday. Unfortunately for her, it would be her last. And all you could think while watching said performance was, 

“This is a pretty terrible show to die after.” You whispered to Santiago and Sam, who laughed along with you, standing behind the mingling guests in the living room. 

You cringe as you listen to the singer struggle to keep a steady pitch, and the pianist clumsily pressing the ivory keys. 

The night was painted with vibrant red, laughter floating along your group as they tore through the party with remorseless hunger. 

The entire night you were by Santiago’s side, feeding together, talking about your plans for the new year. 

At one point you were able to sneak away from the rest of your coven, and the prying eyes of Eglee, Santiago’s hand gently tugging yours as he brought you to the kitchen of the residence. His thumb wiped at the blood that was smeared on your chin, a small smile on his lips before bringing you closer. 

“I wanted to ask you, do you have any plans for me this year?” He asks, almost teasing as he plays with the fabric of your shirt, “We’ve talked about the theater plenty for one night.” 

“What makes you think I would, Santiago?” You match his tone, fighting the smile that threatens to break your calm composure.  

He just smiles, his face slowly drawing closer, placing a kiss on your cheek before whispering, “Perhaps I could give you some ideas.” Another kiss is placed upon your skin, this time at your jaw, “I’ve been thinking about something, rather intensely, might I add.” 

Your breath comes out in a soft sigh as he kisses again, his hand finding its usual spot just above your hip. He drew you in closer, continuing his heated trail. All that would come from you was a gasp as you tried to focus, feeling his fangs rake across your shoulder where he pushed your shirt away from your skin. 

“What have you been thinking about?” You finally forced out, your hands flattening against his chest and gently pushing him back so you can see his face. 

There was such a soft look in his eyes, after all the years you spent with him you recognized it immediately. A look of love and adoration, real and raw. 

“Be my companion…” He breathes your name like a prayer, a hand gently holding your jaw, “It is fine if you say no, I’ll still remain by your side as if this conversation never happened.” 

Your chest tightened, he was giving you a choice? That was something you were rarely given when it came to Fabian, or even the theater during the early years, but a whole century has passed since then. And after everything, you trusted Santiago now, more than you would trust most people. 

“Are you certain?” You ask cautiously, expecting him to finally back away and laugh at your naivety, but he doesn't. 

“I have never felt the way I do for you, love.” He says quietly, as if it’s a secret that he was scared to admit, “You have become very important to me, I would not have done the things I have for you if that were not the case.” 

It was almost shocking to know that you used to hate the man in front of you, remembering the constant arguing that would happen. He enjoyed your anger, rousing you from your depressive state with his snide comments and callous jokes. But now he stood in front of you with stars in his eyes as he waited for your reply. 

A laugh comes first, at first Santiago looks offended, until you bow your head slightly to rest your head against his collarbone. 

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I promise.” You say, leaning back and placing your hands on his shoulders, “I just remember how you used to criticize my sewing and painting so much, to the point where I would ruin them in my own anger,” A smile curled your lips upwards, “We hated each other so much. If only I knew where I would be now.” 

“Oh, but I never hated you, love.” Santiago says softly, “I was always enamored by you. Your strength, your honesty, no matter how harsh it would sound, the way you looked after the coven. Everything about you terrified and excited me.” His thumb made slow strokes along your cheek as he spoke, “You stirred something inside of me that I thought had died right alongside me when I was turned. For a while I tried to shut it away, hiding from my feelings in the comfort of familiarity, but I always found myself drawn back to you.” 

He comes closer again, placing a kiss on the opposite cheek this time, “I did not lie when I confessed to you all those years ago.” He whispers next to your ear.

Lestat had become absolutely enthralled with you.

Beforehand, he'd peered his way into your mind and saw you as nothing more than a simpleton who genuinely happened to stumble into a bar. Like a lost puppy, you seemed almost shy, scrambling for help in your mind as the bustling room seemed like a cry out of your comfort zone.

Oh how absolutely wrong he was.

By the time he'd occupied a seat next to you, the blonde man barely had enough time to introduce himself before you perked up and did so first. You were a bit of a motor-mouth, but a smooth one at that. Lestat seemed only partially annoyed as he practically got your life's story before saying a measly five words.

You were the perfect target for a good night, to sate both his needs of hunger. A gluttonous lust he'd have sprung on Louis if the man wasn't so tied up in his own family affairs at the moment. It couldn't have been laid out any better. You were alone, having moved from further down south to try and set up business, but you were lost and passing by.

You had no family or friends worried about you, you weren't of a high enough status to be searched for if gone for more than a day, and better yet, all your belongings were currently on you as you'd been trying to find a place to stay for the night.

Lestat did have to silence you for the moment as you rambled about your current situation. His nimble fingers seemed to caress your jaw, thumb place against your lips. "For such a handsome face, you speak more than you can breathe. Though I can't blame you, having to go through such a harrowing journey with no one willing to help you?"

You seemed to smirk behind his finger, a laugh leaving your slightly chapped lips. "Well, what can I say pretty boy? You simply took my breath away the moment you sat next to lil' ol' me."

Lestat was a bit surprised to say the least as you seemed openly okay with complimenting him in such a way. Many men, caucasian or colored, seemed to keep to themselves or explore behind closed doors. You? Your mind was open and unafraid, bold to say the least—though there wasn't a single degrading thought to behold at that moment, even as the conversation continued.

"Perhaps I could provide you a place for the night? I highly doubt you'd be willing to march to your destination after such a strenuous journey here, pauvre chiot..." Lestat removed his hand, one now tapping against the bar while the other lingered against your open thigh.

"That's mighty sweet of you! So, how could this poor country boy ever repay you for such a kind gesture mista..." You droned on, hoping he'd fill the space in order to finally introduce himself.

"Lestat, Lestat de Lioncourt," he practically purred out.

"Pretty name for an even prettier face. Ya' don't sound like you're from here yourself mister Lestat. Got a story of your own to tell?" You'd now seem almost infatuated with this man who'd barely begin to speak to you, much less offer a place to stay. In the back of your mind, you knew that it was a ploy to sleep with you, maybe even take some of your belongings, but the man seemed much too proper and seemed to hold himself to a higher standing than to be a petty thief.

"Oh, but would you rather I bother you with something more than a story, mon cher?"

"Maybe, but only if you explain what you just said. Sounded somthin' like you were callin' me a cherry. Not to disappoint you, but ain't the first time I've been called a fruit, I'll tell ya that." That seemed to get a genuine chuckle from Lestat, making the smile on your lips widen.

The blonde individual shook his head as his laughter died down. "It seems you are not familiar with the tongue I speak in. Just as it seems you are just as unfamiliar with the French quarter as well."

"I wouldn't mind becoming familiar, whether it be with your tongue or otherwise," you quipped. "I can do much more than yappin' yer ear off, but I do enjoy your voice much more than hearing my own. Wanna get out of this joint? Doesn't seem much like your style Lestat."

If it was an excuse to finally get you alone, he'd take it. As if you were already mesmerized by the devil in disguise, the two of you left the establishment and into the darkness of the night.

Even though you spoke to an extent that would annoy any congressman who'd have told debate against you, Lestat seemed to grow fond of the conversation, as well as the praises you seemed to give. You followed him willingly, though it wasn't much of a surprise to Lestat. There were people that simply swooned over him via their first meeting, but you were different.

Yes, you were charismatic, a bit awkward, and yes, a chatterbox, but your sudden infatuation with Lestat was odd to him. He couldn't see any current thoughts that were of the sexual variety, just genuine curiosity.

So he amused you with a short tale of his own travels, walking side by side in no direction in particular. He was simply biding time before eventually giving your life an end. Though he couldn't have imagined that an hour later, he would be settled in an empty field laying in the grass with you, laughing his heart.

"Chéri, how would he have even gotten his head stuck in such a place?"

"Beats me! Believe me, I called him shithead plenty of times, I just didn't think he'd take it in such a literal sense. Look, and that cow? I felt even worse for her." You ended as you recounted a story from your hometown. "You also keep calling me chair? Are you being funny? Look, you can sit on me, all you had to do was ask honestly—"

"Mon Dieu, you will be the end of me," Lestat wheezed out before sitting up. "I have not laughed like this in a very long time." Rubbing his jaw, he could barely feel an ebbing of aching in his cheeks from how hard he'd smiled before, his stomach tending from how tickled he'd become. "And no, I am not poking fun at you mon cher. Your humor isn't the least bit boring unlike some unruly men I've come into contact with. I assumed you simply had lines to try and...take off with me."

Your face flushed at the idea. "Well, you were also laying it on thick yourself Lestat. Didn't know if you wanted to help me or...somethin' else. I mean, I'm flattered, surprised too. What's a pretty thing like yourself doin without someone on your hip. I mean—you're proper as hell, a real gentleman if anything. A flirt too, charming, handsome, cute, radiant even. You're a diamond compared to the dull coin I am."

Lestat seemed even more surprised at the compliments he was getting, yet you seemed to neglect your own self worth. "Even coins are valuable, dull, dirty, or not. Why do you put yourself down so?"

There was a cloud of despair in your mind for a moment before a sad smile appeared upon your face. "Today could be my last for all I know. I haven't made a name for myself here, and if I were to disappear tonight well...what mark would I have made? You know me as this country bumpkin ya met at the bar? You'll forget about me tomorrow as if I never existed."

You weren't wrong, Lestat had planned to simply get rid of you then and there, but now you'd peaked his interest. "If...you were given the opportunity, to achieve what you'd like, would you take it?"

"No questions asked."

"Even if you had to make a deal with the devil himself?"

"I'd ask him to throw in beaut like yourself, I'd be all in."

Lestat felt a grin appear on his lips at your mere words. "You don't have much hesitation do you?"

"I've got nothing to lose. Go big or go home, right?"

"Indeed Mon cher."

Suddenly Lestat pounced, smashing his lips against yours in an almost bruising strength. You took it as a sign, knowing that tonight would mostly likely end in the two of you sleeping together. His tongue slipped into your mouth, now fighting for control as your own hands came to hold his waist. The kiss was heated, abit sloppy, and by the time Lestat pulled away, you were breathless and flushed down the neck. The moonlight gave way to his silhouette as he stayed hovered above your face.

"Are ya sure you want this Lestat? I've been told I'm a lot to handle."

"You've been so bold and quite forward all night, don't tell me you're getting shy now," a grin appeared on Lestats' face, his fangs peeking from behind his slightly swollen lips.

"Don't say I didn't warn you.."

♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°

Lestat seemed to stare at the headboard of the bed, almost lost in thought as just as he felt breathless. He only snapped back to reality as he felt a warm breath and kiss against his bare shoulder.

"You still with me Lestat?" Your voice was much softer, tender as you nuzzled against the nape of the others neck, the sheets covering both of your lower halves as your body hovered above his.

Blinking, the blonde seemingly loosened his grip on both the pillow and the sheet beneath him. He'd slept with others who also seemed full of themselves, but now the tables had turned. He was practically filled to the brim with your sheer girth alone, pressing against his more sensitive places. His tongue ran over his lips, lapping up the leftover drops of blood that filled his throat mere moments ago.

"I told you we could have gone slow...you're not hurtn' are you?"

Lestat was taken aback by your demeanor. Not many people seemed to care for his well-being, especially during sexual escapades such as these. "Mon cher, do you often become this worried about those you sleep with?"

"Couldn't say. You're...the first," your face completely bloomed at the sudden confession.

Lestat however was completely dumbfounded. You did not act like a virgin in bed. He would have never assumed it was your first time, not with the way you completely ravished his body by the time the two of you made it through the front door. Your touch like silk, finding every weak spot and milking it for all its worth.

A groan left the blonde's lips as you'd shifted, though he knew you'd be slightly dazed and possibly inebriated as you were unaware that he'd fed from you tonight. "Dieux, you must be humoring me again, no?" Even peering into your mind once again, he had seen the truth, and knew that you spoke of no jokes.

You made a small noise, but shook your head as you buried your face within Lestats' neck, kissing his warm skin and even up to his jaw. "I hope I'm not disappointin' ya..."

"Merde..."

Lestat didn't expect you to be a literal bucking bronco, but he couldn't deny how you made him feel. Physically, it was as if you were bringing heaven up on his flesh, every touch, flick, lick, almost other worldly. Emotionally...he didn't understand. By daylight you'd be dead, he was sure of it, that he'd have his fun and dispose of you before morning.

Though at the moment it didn't seem as if you were out of energy. A bit sluggish yes, but a certain part of you was ready for more. "Lestat..'" Muttering against his skin, your hips rutted upwards, making a heavenly noise leave the man below you. "You can be on top this time if you want..."

♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°

Three months ago, Lestat questioned his morality, though it wasn't the first time he did so. He always entertained Louis and even then, the humans around him weren't much worth the time or space when it came down to their needs or wants— whether it was self loathing, craving of sex, the need for food, or the wanting of home to go back to. They were all the same. It was the same with everyone he'd stumbled upon.

"Another round of drinks for the booth Chéri!"

Lestat found himself sitting on your leg, practically draped over you like a coat, his head tilted against yours. The spoils of laughter and joy you'd brought him within such little time was uncalled for, but granted, he never imagined someone like you would stumble into his life alongside Louis.

He saw no need to change you, though his eyes were set on someone else for such an event. You knew of his secret, and kept it to yourself. The nights where he'd come to see you, having dealt with racist snobs or uninteresting people, you were there to cleanse his boredom.

Though the two of you slept with each other quite often, you would never let him leave without pampering him after. And Lestat enjoyed every minute of it. Your sweet words, the true sincerity that you felt for him, that you loved him. Though it was hard to tell with Lestat if he felt that same way, or if he just adored you like any other human he might keep for entertainment.

Within the last few months the two of you had become business partners, having made a nightclub out of an old townhouse set to be demolished. Many strings had been pulled to get things up and running, but even then it happened to be a successful mission for both men. There was music, dancers, singers, all sorts of entertainers that came in to perform, and many people paid top dollar to come in.

Even Lestat had days where he'd perform on stage. To say he loved to peacock was an understatement.

This nightly job was as thrilling and fun as your nights in the town. Unfortunately, you were a horrible driver. Lestat had never been so unnerved about someone driving, and you? "A better lover than a driver I suppose?"

"I believe so ma chérie, I believe so..." It's safe to say that Lestat would be driving you around while you'd stay being his passenger princess.

Louis watched on from the other side of the half circle booth he sat in, his eyes narrowing at you as you practically wore Lestat, and the man let you. He couldn't understand what was so special about you. In his eyes, you were the same as him, maybe a little less.

Even as you'd been introduced to Louis, the two of you had never met eye to eye. Maybe it was because Lestat seemed to visit him just slightly less often than he did before you showed up. Maybe it was because he barely went out with Louis anymore because he was too busy riding you. With a glass in hand, Louis stared you down as you whispered something with Lestats' ear. He couldn't help but to wonder, seriously, what do you see in that guy?

Lestat stifled a laugh as he pressed the back of his own hand against his mouth. His piercing gaze seemed to shift over to Louis as his thoughts spoke much louder than others. The blonde couldn't help but to grin, pulling you in closer.

"He makes me laugh!"

"Hm?"

"Nothing ma très chère."

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more fics from interview with the vampire » IWTV Masterlist

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"Ah! Mmh—merde! You are...so—so brutal when you're upset!~" Back now arched off the wall, Lestats' body quivered and shook with each grounding thrust of your hips slamming up into him, your girth striking against his prostate with such precision that his eyes began to roll back. His drool soaked lips let slip out various French curses while your nails dug into his small and slimmed waist.

You didn't reply, not wanting to feed into his game of words while your fingers pressed bruising pressure onto his skin, nails making crescent shapes and tearing through the flesh of his waist. You wanted him to feel pain, wanted him to feel your rage in whatever way you could, even if it meant slamming him into a wall and choking him halfway to unconsciousness — even though you knew full well how he got off to such treatment.

"My chiot doux, you—bring me such joy when you come to me like this, do you — ah!~ Do you know that?~" He was egging you in, watching the threatening glow of your eyes and the sneer on your lips. He could hear your heart pounding within your chest like a war drum, your body burning as hot as a furnace as you grounded your hips into the vampire. It was only then that you'd gotten tired of his incessant yapping.

"Shut up Lestat! You know the shit...you pulled! Fucking me over time...and time...again!" You knew full well that there would be blackened bruises to adorn your groin tomorrow, but that was the least of your concerns. Hearing the wet squelches of each thrust and the powerful slaps of skin hitting skin left the others thighs and ass taunt.

"And yet!" He cried out, bloody tears starting to flow down the sides of his face as your thrust only got harsher, his insides clenching around your cock as it throbbed and rammed into all the spots he couldn't reach with his own fingers. "You come to me! Angry!~ So much anger that you don't know what to do with it—ah! Ah, ah!~"

Pulling your hips back to where you were just barely on the brink of pulling completely out, you slammed straight into him with every word that came out of your mouth. Your hand went up to his throat, body practically vibrating as you could feel the heat roll off of your skin in waves. "Fuck—you—Lestat!"

A choked noise left his body as his own saliva slid down his chin and throat, but even while in such a compromised and humiliating position, he couldn't help but to be spiteful one last time. "It seem—you're already doing the fucking, oui?~"

All you could see was red, the pain that flared throughout your body was completely overshadowed by the overwhelming hatred you felt for the vampire. You'd barely noticed that he'd come twice over, decorating both your stomachs as you pressed closer against his body.

Your bones broke with horrific snaps and fused together in new placements as your muscles throbbed and flexed. Your human flesh seemed to peel off as fur seemed to burst through, causing you to let out a deep growl before using your other hand to rip off the wet and bloodied pieces of skin. Whatever clothes you had left on your body were no more, having shredded and fallen to the floor without much care.

The burning, lava-like feeling of your transformation was nothing in comparison to the hot rage you had for the blonde in front of you.

You could hear him blabber on about the real you finally making an appearance, his plush insides practically milking your now much larger girth as your flared tip brushed far past his prostate.

Your body now looked over his in comparison, his small body dwarfed in comparison to your own. Your clawed hands engulfed his waist entirely, all while your bloodied snout buried itself against the crook of his neck. Taking in his scent, the one you hated so much, the one you kept coming back to like a drug — now flared in your senses.

"Mon chiot chéri," he started, only to cry out as your teeth sunk into his suppel flesh. Your maw practically covered the entirety of his shoulder as throat, biting down hard enough that he bled heavily in that moment, but his response was a gutteral moan that made him feel as though he was in the most heavenly experience of his immortal life. His hands reached up to grip upon your still slick and blood soaked fur before panting out. "—love me the only way...you know how~"

Lestats' eyes rolled back into his skull as you used him for your own personal pleasure, holding him as you would a simple toy. He was being held up only by your red leaking cock that bumped into his tummy with every thrust of your hips. He could just barely hear the wagging of your tail as it swept the air so harshly.

You watched in morbid fascination as his stomach seemed to bulge, covered in his own spend as you leaned down and let your tongue drag up his body. The taste of him made your hips rut that much faster, your ears twitching and flicking with every filthy noise that came from him. A low growl hovered within your chest as you lapped up his throat and chin, only to find your tongue exploring his mouth.

He was salivating, uncaring of how fucked he looked under you or how rough you were with his body. You wouldn't stop until you were satisfied, he knew all too well how nights like this ended.

It was only then that he gasped on your tongue that tried to dip into his throat, feeling your bulbous knot proceed to slap against his ass. He knew that his ass would be stretched to its limits, but you didn't care about how he felt.

"Wait—wait!~ Mon chiot—chéri, it will not fit!~" His slurred and half audible whines and pleas went deaf to your ears and only made your cock throb at the idea of filling up your Lestat.

His back continued to arch in the air as his head hung back, his slick hole now being stretched carelessly around your swollen knot that pressed further and further until he'd sucked you in completely. You two were now bound to the base of your cock, and you were yet to be done with him, even as he felt your warmth spilling out into him.

At this point in time,you were practically humping him, holding him up and watching his stomach bulge just that much more. His body shaking and his voice breaking as he tried to claw at your furry hands. Bloody tears continued to run down his face as he babbled on, though you licked them away with your tongue leaving a trail of your saliva and marking him with your scent.

Even as you seemed to hate him, your wolf loved to see him pierced on your cock like this, begging for a break as his body was being handled in such a way. He had no control, and you'd make sure the situation stayed as such until you felt better.

You could feel your cum dripping out from him, leading to an almost territorial growl while leaning over his body, now giving him the pleasantry of having his body on the bed rather than hovering in the air with your hands holding his middle.

He was your bitch to breed tonight. Watching him seem so broken down and helpless made your tail wag even more as you flipped his body, all while keeping him on your knot. The obscene noise he made only made you want him more, to keep him like this even with the risk of morning hours away. Your voice came in a broken growl that somehow made its way into his static filled brain. "My LeStat~"

"Mon cher, I can't— I can't...take anymore...I am full, I can't possibly take much else~" Lines blurred between whether was teasing or simply begging, but you couldn't care less.

You cared more about how much you could pump into him before he looked pregnant with your pups. Wouldn't that be a sight to behold.

You had long since become used to sleepless nights, which had become more frequent ever since you read Daniel’s book. 

The way you were described not only filled you with an immeasurable amount of anger, but the guilt crawled back out of the cracks of your mind like a starving dog, ready to eat you alive once again. A healed wound viciously cut back open and left to bleed out on the sacrificial pages, your blood shaped to Armand’s slanderous words. 

Guilt was such a fickle emotion to humans, coming and going, or simply ignored. But to vampires it was all consuming, the Dark Gift amplifying the endless dreadful feeling. It paralyzed you in your self hatred, shackled to your torment, a painful echo chamber. 

So now you sat in front of the journalist, in the same place as yesterday, exhausted and hungry without the motivation to do anything about it. 

“Alright, session two starts now,” Daniel taps the spacebar on his keyboard, flips a few pages of his yellow notepad and looks up at you, “We left off at the Moulin Rouge.” 

You give a slow nod, pursing your lips, “Yes, we did, when Santiago came to find me.” 

“Was this the start of your companionship with him?” Daniel asks after a beat of silence, your eyes averting towards the carpet beneath the mahogany coffee table. 

A small smile curved the corner of your lips, “Oh no, far from that.” You answer, “The offer was made for his own benefit, not as a confession of love or real devotion.” Daniel tilts his head upwards in a nod, “And even though I had accepted it at the Moulin Rouge, I didn’t make it easy for him.” 

After that night Santiago’s gaze often found yours in the reflection of his vanity mirror. His eyes rimmed with black and his face smeared with white greasepaint as he got ready for yet another show. Eglee would usually be behind him, her fingers carding through his blonde hair, yet his eyes never left you. 

He watched as you painted one of the new set pieces, lost in thought. 

A new creation of Sam’s was going to be taking the spotlight temporarily. You were tasked to clean up after the final act, repairing the costumes as you used to do, and making sure that everyone had their updated scripts before rehearsals. 

It relieved you from the humiliation for a night or two, allowing you to relax in the quiet of the theater basement as you mopped up the blood that was quickly drying to the floorboards. A result of Santiago’s role as Death, lulling the unfortunate sacrifice of the night into a sense of peace as he gently guided them into acceptance. 

“No pain… No pain…” The words almost made you roll your eyes as he whispered them to his victim, bringing the audience to the edge of their seats as they took in the uncomfortable scene. 

The young girl that had fallen victim to your coven that night was feather-light as you carried her into the wet room. You threw her into the empty body box with little care, watching as she landed on her back, empty eyes staring up towards the ceiling. 

You lingered there for a moment, wondering what kind of life she must have had before tonight, what her dreams were, if she was a mother, or a sister, or maybe both. 

“Contemplating jumping in alongside her?” A voice said from the entrance of the dimly lit room. Santiago was leaning against the wall casually, his hair now disheveled and his face mostly clean of the makeup he had so meticulously put on hours ago. 

“Not today.” You reply quietly, “Just thinking about something.” 

The man hummed, walking further into the room and looking into the box with a bored expression, “Her blood tasted of cheap booze and desperation. Almost reminded me of you, only yours is sharp like an overly acidic lemon burning my wounded tongue.” 

“Are you here to mock me?” You ask bitterly, glaring at the man that stood across from you, “Because if so, I’d rather you leave me.” 

“Oh no, I’m here to make a proposal, if you’re willing.” Santiago smiles slowly, leaning slightly over the open box. 

You look at him suspiciously, waiting for him to continue. 

“I heard whispers of a party being hosted tonight on the outskirts of the city.” His nails slowly trace the metal edge of the rat box. 

“And why is that my concern?” The question comes out harsher than you intend, making Santiago’s smile only widen. 

“The coven members want to go, seeing as we haven’t had a real feast in quite some time. I thought I would extend the invitation to you, since you rarely leave the theater.” He tilts his head as he speaks, eyes not leaving you. 

“I’m fine.” You answer coldly, “I hope you enjoy yourselves.” 

“You haven’t eaten in two days.” Santiago says, his tone suddenly shifting to something much more serious, “I’m sure you’re set on starving yourself, but we have a show tomorrow evening, a rather important one at that.” 

His intentions were clear, he wasn’t going to allow you to back out. 

You stare at him for a moment, “I don’t need to eat as regularly as the others do, you know this.” You dismiss his words as you loudly shut the box in front of you, sealing away the body inside. 

Santiago was beside you in a blink, his hand stopping yours on the safety lever. His fingers curled around yours, forcing you to look at him. 

“Do not make me beg.” Santiago said, voice low, “I’d rather not spend our performance pulling you off mortals in the audience.” 

“Do you think I lack self control?” You snatch your hand away, instead using your mind to pull the lever upwards. Hearing as the rats scamper into the neighboring box, their high pitched squeaks echoing through the otherwise quiet room. “I do not need you to coddle me like a helpless child, Santiago.” 

He stepped away finally, simply rolling his eyes at your defiance and walking to the stairs of the wet room. 

“I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby. I had Celeste pick a dress out for you.” He turned back to you, “Allow yourself to live for one night at the very least, then you can continue to wallow in your misery if you’d like.” 

He left you no room to argue, and even in your stubbornness you knew that he was right. The hunger ate away at you just as the guilt did, something primal inside of you attempting to claw its way out. 

So, much to your dismay, you walked up the stairs not long after he did, your footsteps echoing quietly as you entered the empty greenroom to get dressed. 

The lobby was empty aside from Santiago, who now wore a dark blue suit, a white cravat tied around his neck, peaking past the collar of his embroidered waistcoat. Golden flowers stretched along the hem of his coat, intricate needlework that you had rarely seen on the common-folk in France. 

He was standing at the theater doors with his hands behind his back, watching as people walked along the cobbled streets, blissfully unaware of what would transpire tonight. 

“I hope the dress Celeste picked is to your liking.” The man says without turning to see you, instead opting to adjust the lacey ruffles at his sleeves. 

“It’ll do.” You reply simply, glancing down at your attire. 

It was entirely different from what you would have picked out for yourself. 

A bustle cage was secured at your waist, extenuating your figure in a bell-shape, allowing the silken ruffles and lace to pour down behind you like a waterfall of deep purples with black accents, decorated with intricate embroidery and jewels sewn into the fabric. The collar of the dress was made of itchy lace ruffles that tickled your jaw. 

“My, it seems there is a silhouette beneath those dreary cloaks you usually wear.” He teases as he finally fixes his eyes on you, taking in your appearance, drawing attention to the way your dress hugged around your midsection. 

You felt out of your skin, barely having recognized yourself in the mirror as you put on each layer. This kind of dress was never meant for someone like you, it was far too beautiful to be worn by such a pitiful being. 

“You are what makes the dress beautiful, my dear.” Santiago said suddenly, breaching your thoughts and clinging onto your insecurities, “Don’t doubt that for a second.” His gentle words made your breath hitch, the way he walked over to you with such a warm smile with his hand extended as an offer. 

It took two carriages to escort the coven, the ride itself mostly silent as you watched the city slowly pass by through the window. Your body shifts uncomfortably as you attempt to swallow the dryness in your throat. 

The mansion itself was ginormous, a glorious display of wealth and luxury. Tall bowed windows with a balcony just above the front door, allowing guests to take in the beautiful statues and hedges that lined the property. 

Screams melded together in a beautiful symphony as your coven tore through the party guests like a pack of starved wolves. Beautiful polished floors were stained red, the chandelier hanging from the painted ceiling reflecting in the pools that stretched along the hardwood. 

Blood stained the front of your dress as you sank your teeth into another unfortunate party-goer, her shrill scream only making you bite harder. She clawed against your forearm as you brought her closer, her hands weakly pushing against your chest before she finally gave up, going limp in your hold. 

It felt like you were floating in waves of honey. Never in your life have you felt such a sense of euphoria, floating along the floors and sinking your teeth into anyone who was unfortunate enough to beg you for help.

As you stalked through the party you could feel his eyes on you, watching as you walked up the stairs of the expansive mansion. 

You were reduced into something feral, reveling in the terror that swam in your new victim’s tearful eyes. A wicked smile stretched across your features as you toyed with him, listening to his black buckle shoes clap loudly against the pristine oak floors as he attempted to outrun you. 

The fear rolled off him in waves, a scent as pure as fresh roses filling your senses, only making you hungrier. 

The man glanced over his shoulder, watching you stalk towards him with a predatory stride, before his body hit something solid. A blood soaked barrier made him stumble backwards and bump into you, a sobbing scream caught in his throat as he was caged in. 

Blood stained the beauty that was Santiago’s suit, red mingling with the dark blue and dazzling gold. A pastel pink handkerchief was pinched between his fingers, wiping away the evidence from his lips, his expression was calm but his eyes were hungry. 

He took a step closer to the man in front of you, making him shrink back against you, now wedged between the two of you. 

“Having fun?” Santiago asks you, ignoring the man’s pleading words to be spared. Santiago merely places a hand on the mortal man’s shoulder, feeling him tremble beneath his touch, “Aw,” He mocks, looking in the man’s eyes, “Poor little thing.” 

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead your fingers tangled in the hair of your prey, his powdered wig long forgotten on the steps he had struggled to climb. Your teeth sank into his neck without a second thought, with Santiago following suit. 

Pointed nails traced along your jugular, fingertips coming to rest on the back of your neck as Santaigo pulled you tighter against the man that stood between the two of you.

You drank fervently, the sweetened blood dripping down your chin and onto the black lace around your neck. A sigh fell from your lips when you finally lifted your head, stained tongue raking over your fangs.

Piercing blue eyes drew you from the haze that overtook your mind, a small laugh coming from you as the man’s body dropped to the ground in a heap. 

Santiago stepped over the baby blue lump, his bloodied hand coming up to cup your jaw. 

“You are quite the hunter, Ma chère.” He compliments, a smirk gracing his lips, now stained a prominent crimson.

Santiago didn’t stop walking, backing you into one of the many pillars that decorated the elaborate mansion. Your fingertips were tingling as you traced them along Santiago’s cheek, your other hand reaching for the one still holding your jaw. 

“Seems the humans at this party have been indulging themselves quite a bit.” You whisper against his wrist, your lips tracing along the arteries underneath his pale skin, where his pulse hammered against your reddened lips, “Vin Mariani.” 

Santiago watched you with parted lips and shallow breaths, dark pupils swallowing the bright blue of his irises. 

This side of you was new to the man. Santiago was captivated by the confidence that bordered on seduction, surely provided by the tonic infused blood you’ve been drinking. He swallowed thickly when you looked at him from behind your lashes, your fangs finally piercing into the thin skin of his wrist. 

A quiet gasp comes from Santiago as you drink from him. The taste of his blood is intoxicating, electric and almost sweet from his excitement. It washes through you like sunshine peaking through rainclouds, warm and addicting. 

Your lips lingered on the quickly healing puncture wounds, your porcelain green eyes finally looking into his a second after. Santiago’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath he took, the look on his face unreadable as he rushed forth with a feverish kiss. 

His lips mingled with yours in a quick paced dance that you almost struggled to keep up with in your haze. The hair at the base of your neck tangled around his fingers as he drew your body closer to his, pressing you harder into the pillar behind you. 

Never in your life have you felt this desired, like a prize he fought hard to earn. With his hand falling from your neck to your waist, he finally separated himself with one final tug at your bottom lip. His nose brushed yours teasingly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his searing gaze. 

Things shifted between Santiago and you after that night. What had previously been hatred and irritation melded into something else entirely, whether it was a mutual respect or a deeper understanding, you weren’t sure. 

All you knew was that you wanted to feel it again. The euphoria of being in his presence after such a feast left you elated, feeling as if the world would bow to the sound of your silk slippers on the polished floors of the mansion. 

The performance the night after went without issue, you even left the stage with a small smile on your lips. It felt as if a new life had been breathed into you, a new sense of worth that briefly swept away the painful memories that often tormented you as you stood in the spotlight. 

The lingering happiness followed you for weeks thereafter, with Santiago occasionally whisking you away after performances so you could hunt together. He encouraged you to eat more than anything, allowing you to release the anger that had festered inside your heart for so long. 

“What did you want to do with your life before you were turned?” You asked one night, walking on the cobbled sidewalk with him beside you. 

The city atmosphere was calm, the sound of hooves clacking in the distance with a groaning carriage trailing behind it. Others occasionally pass by, stuck in their own conversations with their friends or loved ones. 

A quiet chuckle comes from the man next to you, “I wanted to be an actor.” He responds after a moment, “That might come as a surprise, I’m sure.” The man jokes, his hand briefly finding the small of your back as a small group of mortal men pass the two of you. 

“You signed your life away to the Devil so you could prance on a stage for eternity?” You tease, a smirk rising at the corner of your lips, eyes taking in the beauty of one of the many statues around Paris. 

“If you wish to look at it in such a way, then yes. But that’s not truly why or how I became the handsome man you see before you now.” The cape hugging his shoulders fluttered against the wind, the candlelight of the streetlamps catching in his eyes as he looked at you, “What did you want to be?” 

“When I was mortal I had little time to sit and think about what I wanted to be.” You replied dully, fingers twisting the fabric of your cloak, mulling over your answer, “I was young when I got married, barely even fourteen at the time. Because of this I had responsibilities to uphold, things expected of me that I could never do.” 

The sadness that would have once consumed you at the thought was replaced by calm acceptance, knowing now that you would have died a miserable death of infection or starvation in that selfish village. 

“Late at night, though, I would dream this childish dream.” A small laugh tumbles from your lips, “I would wonder what it was like to live as lavishly as the nobles in my country did. Where I would have clean linens, and I would wear fine silks shipped from overseas, and sleep on a bed big enough to fit three. A home big enough to host fancy parties.” Santiago puffed a laugh from his nose, a smile stretching along his cheeks as you spoke.

“A pampered life with wealth beyond your wildest dreams.” He finished, watching you nod in agreement, “It doesn’t seem entirely childish to me. A life like that would have suited you.” 

Weeks melded into months as you spent time by Santiago’s side after shows, attempting to hide your shared glances in the theater and the way your soul craved him. You were quickly becoming enamored by the man, and you knew that the coven was beginning to notice the shift. 

Whether it was luck or just uninterest, Armand didn’t interfere. Finally allowing you to know the comfort of happiness after almost a century of suffering. 

But even still, the relationship between Santiago and you was not one of love. It was a lustful closeness, a transactionary kind of relationship that sweetened your blood just enough to satisfy him during your performances together. 

Santiago was still still dancing around Eglee, and even occasionally Celeste, making a certain unexpected bitterness bloom in your chest most nights when you would return from your walks. Jealousy solidified in your throat, almost making you forget the long conversations you had with the man just hours prior. 

Even if he helped provide you with the happiness you craved, and allowed you to feed to your heart’s content, you still felt used. Like you meant nothing to him, forgotten and only acknowledged when he was bored of the others. 

While that was something you expected, it was the pain that reemerged over time that snuck up on you. A different kind of pain, almost heartbroken as you watch Eglee sit upon the man’s lap, toying with his blonde hair and whispering into his ear. 

“At least attempt to mask your heartbreak.” Armand told you one night, his eyes following yours as Santiago and Eglee walked away from the theater, her hand holding his forearm. 

A scoff left your mouth at his implication, “I do not love him, Maître.” You attempt to lie, feeling your chest tighten as the two disappear behind a building. 

“Yet your heart weeps each time Santiago chooses someone else’s company over yours. Only love makes you feel the way you do right now.”