#lestat fic

Just as I finish stuffing my tips anywhere they'll stay in my tight, glittery outfit, a pair of slender fingers with a large banknote between them reaches for me.

I momentarily still.

The generous tipper grins, lopsided and hungry. He tilts his head to the side, his blonde hair brushing against the shoulders of his expensive suit.

Normally, my heart would pound at the look of him, but tonight, it was only the loud bass thumping in my ribcage. I take his money, immediately smelling the fresh ink on its sleek surface. I walk to the pole and decide to humor him, as I won't be entertaining him with anything else tonight.

My eyes lock with his soul biting blues as I grip the metal beam in front of me, doing my signature move on it. It's easy, though advanced. I've probably done it a thousand times. Somehow, it feels different, though not because I missed a mark or moved the wrong way, but because I was off— I'd been off the entire day.

The audience doesn't notice, none of the did. They didn't care. Why would they when she could see my ass real good from this angle?

My nostrils flare as I descend to my knees, finally finishing my routine. I immediately pick up the remaining bills on the stage and thank my patrons with a half-hearted smile.

"You look stressed, mon cheri."

I look up through my lashes, finding the same fingers holding another large banknote for me.

"I can fix that," he leans his elbows on the edge of the stage.

I take the bill from him, "I won't be doing a private show tonight."

His brow quirks along with his lips, "oh?"

I stand and look down at him.

Though his expression is subtle, he looks intrigued, challenged. He clearly thought it was pet play like most other nights we've shared. Part of me wants to tell him otherwise, to tell him I meant it, that he should take me seriously, that he ought to LISTEN to me— but I don't... because I know what will happen if I do. The thread sewing my sanity together will snap and I'll be torn from the seams.

I exit the stage and head to the back. The dressing room is filled with chatter and sweaty, half-drunk performers with body shimmer and dollar-bills sticky on their skin. I head for my locker and change without a care for decency. My cool skin is immediately warmed by my worn tracksuit which was once hot pink and now baby pink.

I stuff my performance outfit into my bag and grab a small plastic of kibble, stuffing it into my pocket along with my lighter and cigs. I head to the rear door with a red neon exit sign that emerged to the dingy alleyway that was never not damp or dark.

The flimsy metal roofing of the building beside us warbles and creaks with the strong gust of wind. I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself as I walk towards the flickering bulbs on the side of the strip club the owner constantly promises to fix.

I place the stick between my lips, pull my lighter out, and sigh. My breath condenses slightly. I cup the spark as I try to light a flame. One. Two. Three. "Fuck," I hiss as my hands uncontrollably tremor. It's not because of the cold.

My eyes begin to water as I aimlessly observe my surroundings whilst hopping place in an attempt to psych myself up and expel my extra energy. I pull the cigarette out of my lips and few deep breaths before trying again.

I cup the lighter and flick: one, two—

I start and gasp when I feel something brush against my leg. My cigarette nearly drops from my mouth, but I thankfully catch it.

An orange cat rubs against my calf, looking up at me as she meows. I put the lighter back in my pocket, exchanging it for kibble. I crouch down and pet Mimi. She purrs and leans into my touch. I feed her. She gratefully begins crunching up her brown pellets and I straighten back up, reattempting to light my damned cig.

One. Two. Three. Four.

I gulp and shake my hands before trying again.

Five. Six. Six and a half. Seven. Eight.

I shake my lighter and curse at it.

Nine. Ten. Elev-

One.

I turn to my right, finding an orange flame in front of a white man. His golden lighter slowly inches towards my needing cigarette.

I pinch my stick between my pointer and ring finger. I watch its tip begin to burn. I inhale deeply and throw my head back, sighing out the smoke.

"You left me waiting."

I turn to him, taking a swig before responding with a smoky exhale, "has it been five minutes already?"

"I am not one to be kept waiting."

I watch him bring his hands into his coat pockets. I watch his face harden in that subdued manner that always made goosebumps crawl up my arm. I take another hit before looking away, "I told you I wouldn't come."

"I can see that," he quips.

I sigh, willing my shoulders to relax. They don't seem to want to remain relaxed. I flinch at the particularly loud bang of metal as wind slams the wobbly roofing into its spot. I clutch my chest and catch my breath.

The cat meows. I look down at her. I puff out smoke before tapping my stick. I was about to give her more kibble but the poor cat pulls her head back as ashes fly to her face. She doesn't wait, she runs off. I call out for her, feeling terrible for the unintentional harm I gave.

As she disappears, a tear runs down my face. I sniffle, feeling my throat tighten uncomfortably. This was all I'm good for, aren't I?

I turn, gasping in surprise when I see the same face beside me. The sight of him does nothing for my nerves. I clutch my chest once more and screw my eyes shut.

He watches a tear roll down my cheek.

I shake my head, pulling my cigarette away from my lips, "I'm sorry, I-"

"Thought I would be gone?"

I feel a chill run up my spine as I bring my light back up my lips. My tremors do me a disservice. I miss my mouth, thus knocking my stick out my grip. I skid back, watching it fall, then reach for it like the junkie I am. That is, until a gleaming leather shoe stomps it.

I peer up with a whimper.

"Enough," he says.

"I was still—"

"And now, no more," he decisively quirks a brow.

I shudder and rise to my full height, eyes beady and wronged, jaw hard and clenched. Had he been a lesser man, maybe he'd feel intimidated, maybe perhaps pitiful. Alas, he was not a man.

"You're far too jittery to be-"

"IT WAS HELPING ME!"

He looks at my frantic face. He watches me scramble for another light.

Before I can even get another stick, the pack is no longer in my grip. I hiss and glare, eyes no longer able to hold the mist fogging them. "LESTAT!"

He raises his brows and crosses his arms. For someone who revels in the sound of his name, he does not like the way it is presently called. He resists an eye roll, "Dawn."

"Give it ba-"

"No," he shifts in his spot.

My nostrils flare and I step forward to punch him.

He lets me. He does not recoil at the assault and merely chuckles before gasping, "resorting to violence so quickly? How primitive."

I am allowed but three blows before he grabs my wrists.

"Use your words, pet," he leans towards me, "and I may yet still reward you."

I groan and try to wrangle out of his grip, futile as the attempt may be. My flesh could not be quelled by my reason. I persist anyway.

Lestat feels the feebleness of my form in his grip. He sees the misplaced passion in the frustrated movements. With a huff through the nostrils, he releases his hold and stares idly.

I recoil, exhale sharply, and scratch my eyes, "fucker."

He rumbles, ancient and bone chilling.

My stomach drops as his mere step forward.

"Careful," he mutters, "you've not only cut me off but as well cursed me now."

I gulp and flinch at his definitive warning. I know better than to push his patience any further, and yet the irrational side of me that has currently dismantled my sense of self-preservation urges me to see how badly the penance shall be for my impertinence.

He sees it. The flicker of foolishness behind my eyes. He might have been amused by it, had the defiance been a form of foreplay and not a direct road to a tenser argument.

I shiver, this time because of the breeze that cuts between us. I clutch my arms.

Lestat shifts on one leg and tilts his head, "tell me then what has gotten you so weepy."

I look away, only to have my jaw grabbed and gaze drawn back to him.

"You know I will get my answer one way or otherwise."

I huff and grip his wrist. I squeeze him but make no attempt to pry him off.

He watches my eyes fog with more tears.

"I'm sure you already know," I mumble.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, "that's not how the game works, cheri."

I feel my shoulders slump as I recall the memory that has made me this way.

He can hear it, but pays it no mind.

"Please. I don't..."

My tear runs down his hand.

"... you'll throw me away."

His brows furrow.

He releases my jaw and takes a step back. The act makes my heart rattle behind my rib cage.

"You take me as one so weak-minded?"

My face twitches almost painfully.

His own does as well. He points a finger to the ground as his teeth clamp tightly into each other, "I will not be further insulted by a wailing babe who clearly does not deserve the comforts I so graciously offer, or would have offered had I been met with the same graciousness."

The cold dismissal is like an iron clamp around the neck. He was ever a stickler for dramatics and had a penchant for peeling the narrative back enough that he remain the subject. I knew deep down that was what was playing out, and yet my mania drives me to grab his suit and ultimately crumble further into myself. I half expect him to push me away, to berate me, or even hurt me, but instead he just stands there. I can feel him staring at me.

"Are you just going use my tie to blow your nose?"

I sniffle and wipe my nose on the sleeve of my tracksuit.

He sighs, placing a hand on my shoulder.

The weight of his hold grounds me.

"Grab your things. We're leaving."

I nod silently and sniffle once more.

My duffel is severely out of place in his home, though you could barely see it in the darkness that shrouded the room. He plies me with drink and watches me wipe my wine stained lips on my sleeve with raised brows.

He mutters something in French as he shifts on the settee beside me.

I stare at the painting before us, its grandness and opulence make me feel small, well, smaller.

He, himself, finishes his own drink, "the night does not grow younger."

I turn to him.

He puts his glass down.

I decide to just say it, to jump the gun and forfeit the sugarcoating, "Guido is dead."

Lestat is unmoved. Physically, he remains the way he was seated, body facing mine, one leg folded in front of him, one arm on the backrest, one finger pressed against his temple. Emotionally, he finds no remorse, not even as more tears wet my face.

My lips and voice wobbles, "I- I should be... I should only be relieved, because he was a- a piece of shit, but I–" I wipe my face and lean my head back. I groan into my palms.

His gaze softens, but make no mistake, not the past lover who he many times thought of delivering to death's door himself. "Dawn."

"— I did love him."

The thought is sickening, no, enraging.

"I loved him once, before he used to hurt me."

Lestat does not respond.

I slowly lower my hands and turn to him. My heart skips at his unnaturally blue gaze that seemed to glow with a fury in the darkness.

He watches me shift uncomfortably until I mirrored his position.

"Lestat."

He takes a moment. He brings his hands to his lap, "Dawn."

"I don't..." I fidget with my fingers, "I don't mean to..."

He waits for me to explain, but I do nothing of the sort. I can't. He watches me pick at my nails before reaching out. His hands are cold but not clammy like mine. "Love is a treacherous thing. It is all neither here or there yet everywhere and nowhere."

He rubs the back of my hand with his knuckles. I gulp, feeling my skin tingle with goosebumps.

"I can make you forget."

I lower my gaze and shake my head, "I-" I shake faster, "I would just find out again. My boss is in the pocket of his mob."

"I could kill your boss."

I look up at him.

His brows raise in question.

"Please don't kill my boss."

He grumbles under his breath.

I lower my gaze again.

This time, he clutches my jaw and leans in, "then shall I make you forget another way?"

Before I can respond, his lips are on mine. I sigh, hands gripping his vest as I feel his cool lips melt against my hot mouth.

He does not wait. His fingers find the zipper of my jacket and slowly he pulls it down.

"Lestat," I moan against his mouth.

He hums, slowly leaning further into me, knees crawling towards my own until he straddles my lap. He breaks the kiss, taking in my form as he pushes my jacket off my shoulders. "Are you going to ask me to stop, pretty thing?"

I whimper and slowly disagree. I gulp when his hands clutch my chest. My breath hitches as thumbs brush over my nipples.

"Good," he purrs, "I would have gotten very cross with mon cher if you did."

His lips find mine again, and soon, my head is spinning. He pulls my jacket off me then breaks the kiss to push me into the cushions. He takes my legs, ridding me of all other articles of clothing, and slowly pushes them into my chest. He slots between my thighs, grunting as he hovers over me. I whimper as he ruts into my crotch.

"Tell me what you want."

I reach for his cheeks and arch my back, "I want you to fuck me."

I yelp at the cold blob that splatters onto my chin. He bares his fangs after spitting on me, "and you mean to kiss me with that filthy mouth of yours?"

I whimper when he forces my legs further into my chest.

"Don't let your misplaced grief make you forget yourself."

I shake my head and find myself trying to lick his spit, "n-no."

"Mmm, must I teach my toy proper manners," he begins to undress himself, "or perhaps I should treat you like the dirty whore you are?"

I feel my pulse in my core as I watch him expose his toned abdomen to me.

He reveals his displeasure in his native tongue before grabbing my cheek, forcing me to look him in the eye, "I believe I asked you a question."

My breath hitches as I nod rapidly, "I- punish me."

Lestat gasps as though he'd been thoroughly scandalized. He even releases one of my legs and hover his fingers over his lips just to break into deep chuckles. He gazes down on me in rich amusement and slowly begins to sink down.

I whimper and lift my head to capture his lips in mine.

He snorts, kissing me back nonetheless, hand coming to my neck, "delicious," he presses down with a bit of force, "it would be my pleasure to punish my shining Dawn until there's nothing left but me."

I keep my head lifted, watching his nails press dimples into the back of my thighs. Soon, I cannot help but throw my head back when he captures my sex into his mouth. My back arches and my fingers tangle into his blonde locks, tugging slightly as he licks me up and slowly begins to slobber.

Lestat's head inflates at the sound of my moans and mewls. He feasts hungrier, until the mix of his spit and my arousal begins to coat my inner thighs.

"Lestat," I whine, legs coiling around his head, heels digging into his back.

He hums, spreading his tongue, tasting me deeper. His one hand finds my hip and pushes me in place; his pointed nails bite into my pliant flesh.

Keep going. His voice is clear and commanding in my mind.

"Lestat, please," I groan, throat constricting at the spreading pleasure, "r'making me feel so good."

He hums, the vibration adding to the sensation of his mouth. I gasp at the slight nip I feel from his teeth. I open my eyes, which I hadn't even realized I closed until he pulled away from me. He gives an open-mouthed sigh, slick and saliva glimmering on his lips and chin. He slowly grins, "can't have you coming so soon," he licks his lips, "this is a punishment after all."

I whine and shift in my spot, immediately regretting my words, "no, wait, please—"

"Shhh," his hand clutches my jaw and neck, "I did not tell you to move, did I?"

The weight he pushes on me makes my stomach flip. My lips wobble, "no, sir."

He grins, nearly all his teeth on display. He chuckles and hums, "I see truly that all you needed was a heavy hand."

I breathe a bit deeper to compensate for the pressure on my neck.

"Well, mon amour," he pushes my knees together with his free hand, "would you like to get on your knees for me?"

"Yes," I answer the instant.

I nearly choke on my breath with how eagerly I twist onto my hands and knees. I gulp and turn to him from over my shoulder, panting as if my movements were far more strenuous than they really were. I mewl when he brings his hands to his belt buckle. I bite my lip and find myself rocking back into him as he pulls his pants down.

"Filthy thing," he coos, freeing his cock from his constraints, "I'd have taken you for an easy little slut had I not known any better."

I hum and chew my lip, "but I am an easy little slut for you."

His expression darkens. He grabs his length.

I hiss and turn to the cushions, gripping it as he smacks my sensitive entrance with his evidently hard cock.

He pushes me down and shoves his groin against mine, pulling a shaky and squeaky groan from my throat.

I hum and heave, "m-mon coeur." My heart.

He hisses, head sinking down to my shoulder to mumble strings of French before he nicks and sinks his fangs into me.

I moan loudly into the cushion, hips grinding back into him as he presses his body into me. His hand finds my sex and lazily strokes it, making my thighs shiver. The pain from my shoulder only intensifies my aching need for him deep in my core.

He gulps, retracting his teeth before licking the puncture he's inflicted. Spit and blood dribble down on my skin as he slowly straightens up. He rubs the curve of my ass, "shall I fuck you now?"

I squeal and nod profusely, "yes, yes! PLEASE!"

Lestat hums and looks down at me. He spits and the glob that hits my mound makes me flinch. He takes two fingers and pumps my entrance a few times, making me moan in anticipation. "Eager for me, yes?"

I whine, "so eager, so eager, so eager, so—" my babble is cut off by the feel of his cock invading my insides. I groan and arch my back, feeling winded and full of him.

He snorts and slowly begins to thrust, "so tight and warm for me."

I turn my head but helplessly rest on my cheek when he pushes me down by my shoulder blades.

Soon, my whining is overshadowed by the sound of slapping skin. Soon, the sound of slapping skin is overshadowed by my lewd cries. Soon, Lestat shifts and pushes my legs further apart with his, gripping my thigh tighter and lifting it slightly to fuck me deeper. My body is a sweating, throbbing symphonic of pleasure at how he takes me from behind, his balls slapping deliciously into me with every thrust.

I feel my eyes water, "mmm, Les— I'm close."

He huffs, kneading the flesh on my hips, "come for me. Squeeze my cock and milk me dry."

I focus on the feel of him and gradually rock my body in tandem with his thrusts.

Lestat reaches for my hair and pulls tightly, making me suck a sharp breath as he slaps my ass, "I told you to do something, mon cher."

I whine and nod, mumbling dumbly over and over, "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming." And then I come, feeling my body clench him tighter as an intense wave of pleasure crashes down on me.

Lestat rides out my pleasure as he chases his own, and soon I feel him throbbing as he spills into me.

Once we were both sated and panting, he sluggishly pulls out and licks his lips. I whine as I turn to face him, feeling my core throb at the sight of his glistening cock. He sighs as he leans down and kisses my lips.

Falling into a deep sleep was a rare occurrence for you, but the times when it happened it always took you a while to fully wake up afterwards. Your body felt heavy and your mind a mush, you were completely disconnected from reality and all you could do was stay there in your bed and wait until you could feel human again.

You were lying on your side, eyes still closed as the complete silence of the room engulfed you like a warm embrace. You rearranged yourself a bit, moving your body into a fetal position, pulling the arm resting across your waist higher and hugging it to your chest.

Wait.

Wait.

That didn't make sense.

You tried to breach through your mind fog and activate your brain enough to understand the situation.

Someone was in your bed, and they were holding you from behind. You were sure as hell no one had been there when you went to bed, and you remember distinctly enough that you had locked the door when Louis and Lestat left. Still, a body was lying behind you.

When the realization fully registered in your mind, your body reaction followed immediately in response. You stiffened at first, before throwing yourself towards the bedside lamp, putting some distance between you and the intruder in your bed.

As soon as the warm light pulled the room from its darkness, your eyes darted to the sleeping figure next to you.

Louis.

You were not expecting him, a part of you thought that only Lestat could invade your space without asking your permission first. Though, between the two, it was Louis the one who could manage to sleep outside a coffin as far as you knew.

"You're awake," Louis mumbled, still keeping his eyes closed.

You didn't reply. You just sat there staring at him, shooting curses from your mind hoping he would hear them. Louis slowly opened his eyes, his head turning slightly in your direction.

"What the actual fuck, Louis?"

"I didn't mean to startle you."

"And yet, here you are doing just that."

Besides the initial fright, you weren't actually scared. Or even bothered, for that matter, which was the most surprising part. You weren’t used to share your bed with someone, nor were you particularly fond of it, but seeing how much your body accepted the presence of another person lying next to you while you slept, you wondered if that was the reason behind your deep sleep.

You were a light sleeper because you were always set on alert mode, so you might have felt unconsciously safe by Louis's presence this time. A stretch, but still a possibility.

"You good?"

You nodded slightly. "What are you doing here?"

"After last night, it wasn't good for you to sleep alone."

"What about Lestat?"

Louis's lips raised in a small smile. "It was his idea, actually. He didn't want you here on your own."

You rolled your eyes on instinct to cover the light sense of embarrassment you were feeling. It was a weird sensation, knowing a person was doing something for you, because they cared.

"I'm fine. Nothing could have hurt me in my hotel room, you know?"

"You forget about your own mind."

You sighed. You were still too tired to have another discussion so soon after the previous night. "It's my problem to deal with, not yours."

Louis hummed low in his chest, a pleasant sound to your ears. "Lie back down, Olivia, there are still a couple of hours before sunset."

"Why? Do you want to cuddle?" You asked sarcastically to hide how the idea truly made you feel, yet you didn't stop your body from following the instruction.

Louis didn't reply, he just kept staring at you as you found your position again next to him. You were both on your sides, facing each other, but you made sure to keep enough space between your bodies to avoid accidental touching.

"I don't bite."

"Very funny, Louis."

He smirked at you, mirth clear in his eyes. He really enjoyed playing this game with you, though his final objective was unknown to you.

"About what you said last night, can you tell me more?"

You blinked at Louis a couple of times. You knew exactly what he was referring to, but you didn't think the subject would come up so soon in your conversations. "What do you want to know?"

"How does it feel like?"

That was a tough one. You took your time to gather your thoughts, trying to find the right words to thoroughly explain the sensation. It was nice to have someone so willing to listen, so it was the right occasion for you to open up more.

"It feels very similar to getting stabbed. It hurts and burns, like you're been torn open. Pain during penetration is called dyspareunia in medical terms, and it's always connected to disorders like mine." You frowned a bit, looking away from Louis as the memories came rushing back to your mind. You always detached yourself from the experience as much as you could, so it was hard for you to willingly direct your mind there for a moment. "The muscles get so tight and tense that it becomes like a wall impossible to breach without forcing the entrance. It is so strong that if you touch the area with your fingers, you can feel how hard they are all the time."

Louis had inched closer while you were speaking, his body now less than twenty centimetres from you. His right hand was on the uncovered skin of your thigh, the shorts of your pajamas reaching just below your butt.

He was caressing your skin, the access easier as your left leg was bent in the remaining space between your bodies. You didn't pull away from the touch, you could not deny how good it felt so you simply kept quiet about it to make it last longer.

"Can I?"

You widened your eyes at his question, raising your upper body on your elbow to look at him better.

"Louis de Pointe du Lac, that's a very inappropriate thing to request."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"What do you mean why? The muscles I'm referring to are very close to my vagina, are you aware of that?"

"Yes."

You huffed slumping your body back down on the bed, head turned towards the ceiling. You were pissed with yourself because there was a strong part of yourself that wanted to indulge him, you wanted to stay in this moment of connection even if it was a one time thing. You could always pretend it never happened afterwards.

"Give me your hand. I must be the one in control for this, we do it on my own terms. Okay?"

Louis stayed silent, he simply raised his hand in your direction with the same smirk as before on his face. You considered that as an affirmative answer. You took a deep breath as you shifted you body closer to his and lifted your left leg from the bed, letting it rest on his waist to make the next movement easier for you.

You held Louis's right hand in yours as you moved it to the inside of your thigh and then right behind it. The position was still a bit awkward considering you were directing him with your right hand, and your shoulder and upper arm were resting on the bed limiting your mobility. You took his index and middle finger and let them slide closer to you pelvic area, right where the band of your underwear started, both of you mindful of his sharp nails.

"If you apply a bit of pressure in this spot, you'll feel the tension."

Louis did exactly as you said, making you jump in surprise at the feeling. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. It's just different than my own touch, it always is." You released his hand, shifting your body back as you moved back to your initial position. "I hope I have satisfied your curiosity of the day."

His hand was back on your thigh, the light touch having a calming effect on you.

"You did."

"I still don't understand why you care, though. It's not like your life is affected by this condition, especially since you don't sleep with women." You finally decided to sit up, wanting to face Louis more clearly while you spoke.

Louis followed your action, shifting back to rest his back against the headboard. He didn't reply immediately, letting the seconds tick by. "Maybe I want to know more about you."

"We met three days ago, Louis."

"When you've lived as long as I have, it doesn't take long to see if a person is worthy of your time, or not."

You tilted your head to the side in curiosity. "So, I'm worthy in your eyes. Is that what you mean?"

Louis nodded. "It makes my departure after tonight's concert a little easier, because I know that I'm leaving Lestat in good hands."

"You're leaving?"

"There are a few business deals that require my presence, I'll be traveling for a few weeks."

The news made you sad unexpectedly. You liked having Louis around since you were getting lonely on tour with very few people you had the chance to interact with during work — even though he seemed to enjoy teasing you a little too much.

"I already have your number, so I can keep you updated on Lestat while you're away. You can text me too, if you want to."

Louis smiled at you. "How cute of you, Olivia."

"I changed my mind, I'll block your number as soon as you leave."

You both laughed at your reply, a soft and warm sensation blooming in your chest. The next time your mind was going to fall in the dark and deep well inside you, you had this little moment with Louis to use to pull yourself out.

---

The following weeks went by faster than you thought, you were all in the full flow of the tour and yet it seemed that the rhythm at the heart of it had gotten even more erratic than the beginning.

New shows, appearances on television, invitations to attend parties and socialite events, it all added up to the pre-existing schedule and it was a nightmare to fit everything in without messing up the initial plans. With the intense workload you were occupied most of the time, locked away in your room or in a makeshift office typing away like crazy to keep up with the deadlines — strict deadlines you had set yourself, of course.

The main consequence of your current situation was how little time you had to keep a watchful eye on Lestat, or to interact with him in general. You knew he wasn't enjoying the distance, based on what TC had told you after one of their shows, but he accepted that you had duties as much as he did, simply dealt in different contexts and fields.

You were now in Chicago. Finally a long stop, after moving around every night for the past ten days. You were going to stay for a couple of weeks, and you hoped you were going to have the chance to rest a couple of days at least.

That was the idea, and for one day it actually went according to plan.

Everything plummeted the second night.

You had been back to the hotel no more than an hour, it was close to midnight. You had spent the late afternoon outside visiting and just enjoying the city for a few hours — being fully nocturnal now didn't allow you many pastimes in standard hours as before this job.

You were sitting on the sofa in your room, a movie on just to have some background noise while you checked your emails. You had already taken your shower, you were wearing your pajamas, everything was going smoothly. Even the typical tension you had in your neck muscles was non-existent at present.

Then, your phone rang. Christine was calling you, which was weird because they all should be at the club having fun before the shows started the next day.

"Hi, Christine," you answered placing your phone in the crook of your neck, keeping it in place with the help of your shoulder. Your focus was still on the email you were currently working on.

"We can't find Lestat."

You stopped typing immediately. "What do you mean you can't find Lestat? Maybe he's with some groupies?"

You didn't like the idea, but in the absence of alternatives Lestat still needed to feed in some way, and not always the blood from the Farm was available considering how much you'd been traveling.

"I think that's the problem. Dr. Fareed is looking into it, but it appears one of the boys had a toxin in his blood, potentially dangerous even to a vampire."

You didn't like the sound of it, not in the slightest. "And Lestat just disappeared afterwards?"

"They said he simply ran out of the club, but he's not answering any calls or messages. Can you please try to reach him?"

"I'll look for him."

You ended the call before Christine could say anything else. You stood up from the sofa, the laptop long forgotten on the cushions, as you started pacing around the room trying to come up with a plan.

Where would he go?

Your mind was racing through different ideas, and you were seconds away from calling Daniel to ask him to reach Lestat through the Mind Gift, when you heard a heavy thud coming from the ceiling. It sounded as if someone had fallen to the ground.

The room above yours was Lestat's.

Without thinking twice about it you ran out of your room, taking the spare key with you. It had been a while since you actually had to use it. You took the stairs not bothering taking the elevator for just one floor, with how agitated you were feeling you didn't think you would have been able to stand and wait for it anyway.

You literally barged in Lestat's room the second you heard the lock click open. There was blood on the floor, trails of it taking you straight to the bathroom.

And there you found him. Body slumped on the toilet, head barely holding up as Lestat was throwing up blood.

"He's in his room. I'll take care of it." That's what you texted Christine before throwing the phone on the bathroom counter and approaching Lestat.

You stepped closer crouching down next to him. You weren't sure he was aware of your presence in his current state, so you raised your hand slowly placing it on his shoulder.

"Lestat, can you hear me? It's Olivia," you whispered, as if talking any louder would make him disappear from your sight suddenly.

Another violent retch came from his body in response, the iron smell of the blood getting stronger in the room. Lestat lifted his head turning it slowly in your direction, the effort he put to complete the action made him look even more miserable. Your heart squeezed in distress at the sight.

"Olivia…" Even his words were slurred, he sounded completely wasted.

"Do you feel like you're going to throw up again?"

"I don't think I have any more blood left in my right now."

You nodded, more to yourself than to answer him. "Alright, can you lie back against the wall there? I'll help you."

You leaned forward placing again one of your hands on his shoulder, while you let the other rest gently on the back of his head as Lestat tried to shift back against the wall as you asked.

You let him go once you were sure he was stable enough not to fall down on his own, so you could stand up to fetch some towels from the cabinets. You opened the tap and waited for the water to warm up before wetting the towels in the sink.

Once you were satisfied enough with your work, you went back on the floor next to Lestat who had been following your movements since you left him against the wall.

"What are you doing?" He asked, voice a little less slurred but it still sounded exhausted.

You blinked a couple of times as you looked him in the eyes, the answer so obvious to you. "I'm taking care of you. Now help me remove your shirt so I can clean you up, you have blood everywhere."

Lestat didn't say anything further, but you managed to see the surprise in his gaze before he let a softer look take over his face. He assisted you as you pulled his shirt down his arms trying not to jostle him too much with the movement — the last thing the both of you needed was another retching fit.

As soon as the shirt was fully off, you picked up one of the wet towels and started cleaning him up. The moment you made contact with his skin, Lestat let out a soft sigh. "They're warm."

"Well, yes. Cold water would only help in making you feel worse."

Your touch was delicate as if you were cleaning his wounds instead of just his skin, and by the way he was reacting to the treatment and the look in his eyes you could tell it was the same for him. Maybe you were doing just that, healing something invisible but still hurting beneath his skin.

When you were done with his torso, you took another clean towel for his face. You looked at him in his eyes as you started from his cheeks, the corners of his lips pulling up in a warm smile.

"I like your touch."

"I'm glad you do," you replied matching his soft tone, but never stopping in your task. You were treating Lestat the way you'd have wanted someone to treat you in a similar situation. "I'm sorry that you're not used to a soft touch anymore."

"How do you know?"

"You looked so surprised when I said I was going to take care of you. I wish you knew you deserve to have someone that simply holds you, without asking for something in return. I know that your relationship with Louis is going in that direction, and I'm so happy it's happening."

Lestat sat there in silence for a few minutes more, while you finished washing away the blood from his skin. He looked much better now, though his face looked so pale it was clear he needed fresh and clean blood immediately.

"Can you stand up?" You asked after throwing the towels back in the sink. "You would be more comfortable if you sat on the sofa."

"I think I can manage it, ma chère."

It was the first time Lestat had called you with a term of endearment. It took you by surprise but you pushed down the blush that was threatening to creep up on your cheeks, and focused on helping Lestat back on his feet.

You stayed close to him as you both walked out of the bathroom, keeping en eye on him until he was sat on the sofa as you suggested.

"You need to drink blood, Lestat. Do you think Dr. Fareed has some ready for you?"

"Not until tomorrow, that's why I indulged myself with the groupies tonight."

That was a problem actually. A big one. You were walking back and forth in front of him, once again trying to think of a solution to the new problem at hand.

"Considering what happened tonight, it would be unwise to look for other people. We have no time to do background checks, but I could always call Christine and see if she has someone available."

"You could."

You stopped right in front of Lestat, pondering on another thought that kept knocking on the edge of your mind. With each passing second that solution solidified as the most feasible and sensible one.

"Drink from me."

"No, Olivia." Lestat's eyes widened completely at your proposal. "I cannot ask you something like that."

"You're not asking, I am offering my blood."

It made perfect sense to you. You were a little nervous about the prospect ahead of you, but you weren't scared. You had no reason not to trust Lestat with you.

You could see that Lestat was trying to find ways to argue against this solution, but his need to feed was getting stronger now and he would not be able to resist the pull for much longer. You stepped closer to him once you saw the fight leave his body.

"In normal circumstances I would never use you for your blood." Lestat's voice was getting smaller, almost like he was ashamed by his needs and by his inability to fight them.

"I know. It's all good," you said trying to reassure him as much as you could in this situation. "Will it be painful?"

Lestat shook his head. "I would never hurt you, Olivia. I can make you feel good if I do it right."

"That's not necessary."

You took off your pajamas shirt, mentally thanking your past self for forgetting to remove your sport bra, and moved to sit on Lestat's lap — In a straddle again like that night after the hospital.

"Is this okay?"

Lestat nodded, his eyes shifting back and forth from yours and your neck.

"I trust you, Lestat. Do what you must, do not hold back for my sake."

That was the last push Lestat needed before getting into action. His hands raised to your hips, pulling you forward and making you sit closer to his crotch. You let him direct your body as he pleased, knowing full well that you needed to be very close to each other if he was going to feed from you.

Once Lestat was satisfied with your positioning, he moved his left hand to your head collecting your hair and holding them in a soft grip. You felt him give you a light pull and you followed his command in silence baring your neck. Your breathing was slow, no anxiety trying to suffocate you like a tight corset holding your ribcage hostage. You felt safe probably for the first time in your life at the mercy of someone else, even though you weren't supposed to feel this way with a vampire moments away from drinking your blood.

You felt Lestat's lips first, caressing softly the skin of your neck as if resisting the temptation to close in a small kiss. Then, the pointy edges of his fangs followed pricking without breaking your veins, goosebumps raising on the surface in response. And finally, after Lestat took a deep breath, with you doing the same as if your lungs were completely joint in the moment, he bit you.

You opened your mouth at the feeling, a part of you expecting even just a little amount of pain that never came. The fangs entered your skin so delicately that a shiver ran down the full length of your spine, making you arch more in Lestat's arms.

The moan Lestat let out at the first taste of your blood was filthy, it made you wonder if he sounded the same while having sex or if the two actions gave him pleasure in very different ways. The fangs left your skin a few moments later, Lestat's mouth and tongue taking their place as he began to suck.

The new sensation took you utterly by surprise, a quiet whimper leaving your lips before you could force it back down your throat, your fingers squeezing Lestat's shoulders seeking support or an anchor to stabilize you. At your body response, Lestat pulled you closer and the hold he had on your hair and waist got tighter.

And then, you felt it. Lestat's length was hard pocking your inner thigh from beneath his clothes. You tried to stay still as much as possible, not wanting to make his situation worse — or yours, because you could not deny that this moment was affecting you as well, you centre tingling and getting wetter with each suck of blood from your neck.

"It's okay, Lestat, use me," you whispered, knowing perfectly well that he would hear you.

Lestat pulled away slowly, lowering your head towards him so he could look you in the eyes. His pupils were fully dilated, but his gaze was still soft.

He didn't say anything, the hesitation clear in the sudden stillness of his body, so with a careful movement you rolled your hips to slide your core right on his length. His reaction was immediate. His eyelids fluttered, a frown forming on his forehead as his lips, still stained with your blood, parted in a low moan.

"This moment is for you, Lestat, if you need release you can use my body," you continued in the firmest voice you could manage given your own current state. "But I won't force you, if you don't want you. Never."

A second later his mouth was back on your neck sucking from your wounds again, both of his arms now fully circling your back to press you harder against his chest. Your own followed as they rested weakly behind his head and neck, while your body sagged as it welcomed its new temporary master.

Lestat's hips started rolling up into yours, his hard cock sliding between your bodies even with the restriction created by your clothes, though the texture of the fabrics were providing the right amount of friction even without the skin on skin contact. Little shocks of pleasure were warming up your core through the repeated stimulation on your clit, nut your body was too drained now to turn them into waves to your climax. You didn't mind because, as you said, this moment was for Lestat only.

Lestat stopped sucking after a few more minutes, yet his face never left the crook of your neck. He licked your little wounds closed before attacking your skin with shallow breath as his hips kept chasing his final release.

"You feel so good in my arms, ma chère, and you taste so sweet." Lestat's voice was deeper than you'd ever heard it before, pleasure wrapping around each syllable. "I want you to come with me."

You shook your head, but you weren't sure it actually move at all, your body way too heavy now. "I can't. Too tired."

Lestat held you even harder, a displeased whine reaching your ears, but he was too close to his orgasm to do anything about it. His movement were getting quicker and frenetic, and after a hard thrust against your core he was coming. Lestat moaned loudly against your neck, the vibration adding to the pleasant feeling still fluttering in your core.

You scratched his head softly with your fingers to give him comfort as he regained his breath. Your body at peace as much as his, you head resting on his shoulder and your eyes completely closed.

"You need to rest now, Olivia," Lestat said, his body at full health again after feeding. "I'll put you to bed, we'll talk when you wake."

You wanted to speak and tell him there was nothing more to discuss, but exhaustion finally got a grip of you and pulled you under before your body touched the mattress.

---

I thought for a long time if I wanted them to finish together, but I think it's something I'll keep for later. I still haven't decided how many chapters this story will be, but there is still a lot to tell so, who knows.

When you gained consciousness again you were in a hospital bed, an IV attached to your right arm. You tried to sit up, shifting back slowly against the pillows, mindful of the needle, your heartbeat pounding like a drum inside your head.

You felt like shit.

"You're awake." A male nurse came into the room, picking up the medical chart attached at the bottom of your bed. "You lost quite a bit of blood, the wound deeper than we thought. We have stitched you up, but we recommend you take it easy for a few days."

"Okay." You were fully aware you could not manage to rest as you were required, with the tour and all. You were going to be careful, but there wasn't much you could do to avoid any straining with your situation at present.

The male nurse was standing there, simply staring at you. Was he waiting for you to say something else? You weren't particularly enjoying the look in his eyes, but with your headache still throbbing maybe your mind was playing you some tricks, making you imagine things.

He went back to check your chart, reading it thoroughly as he flipped through the pages. He stopped at some point, frowning at something written on the papers.

"Is something wrong?" You asked, unsure if you should start worrying or not.

"No," he replied, raising his eyes to your face again. He seemed a bit colder towards you, compared to when he first entered the room. Surely you were mistaken. "Just browsing through your medical history."

"Found anything interesting?"

"I see here that you have vaginismus. What a pity." He diverted his gaze, closing the chart and putting it back in its place.

Pity?

You felt your body stiffen before your mind could fully register the action, the skin around the stitches of your wound pulling uncomfortably tight. Still, the slight pain was grounding.

"Yeah. It's not an ideal condition to have."

The nurse crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes looking at the ceiling in thought. "I'm sure it is, but it must not be easy for a partner to deal with a woman like you. It's not something I'd burden myself with, I think — I mean who would want to build a steady relationship with someone whom they could not be intimate with. A defective body."

Your ears were ringing, making your whole headache situation even worse. You digged your fingernails in your skin to maintain a calm composure on the outside, a complete contrast to the war that was raging on the inside.

"Thankfully there's no partner for you to worry about. Rest easy," you managed to reply through gritted teeth.

"Thought as much. It was my intention to ask for your number before learning about your condition."

The nerve of this man. If he could be defined as such. He was speaking to you and discussing your disorder with a coldness and a detachment you would not expect from a medical professional. You had men say vile things to you once you shared your situation with them, but to know a person who was supposed to care about their patients' health would dare talk to you that way was appalling.

"It would have been unprofessional of you. And I would not have accepted it, anyway."

He was about to say something else, but the sound of footsteps entering the room stopped him before he could open his mouth. Whoever it was, they were your savior.

"There you are, kid." Daniel. You could kiss him for coming at the right moment. "You okay?"

"Could be worse. The nurse was about to tell me I could be discharged, correct?" A fake smile was plastered on your face as you stared at him. You would not even bother to read the name on the badge. He was nothing, and should remain nothing in your mind.

"Y-Yes, of course. We'll arrange the papers now," he replied, finally leaving the room.

Daniel was looking at you with his eyes narrowed behind the glasses. "Are you alright?"

"Well, I was basically stabbed. I'm not at my top physically at present." You knew he was not asking about your wound. He could read a room better than anyone else, and the tension was so thick when he stepped inside that it could have gained a tangible form. You just hoped he would not press further.

"I brought you some fresh clothes. Christine prepared them for you. I'll wait for you in the corridor, unless you need help getting dressed."

"I think I'll manage, thank you," you replied, grateful for the change of subject.

Probably an extra hand would have been helpful in the task, but luckily Christine had packed a zip-up hoodie that didn't require much movement. You freshened up a bit in the in-room bathroom, before finishing getting dressed and packing.

You checked your phone, not to see if anyone contacted you while you were out, but more to understand how much time had actually passed since the incident. It was dark outside and you correctly guessed that at least 24 hours were gone while you were unconscious. Thankfully, no more than that.

"Did they ask you to come pick me up, or did you actually offer?" you asked once you were finally outside. Now that you could breathe fresh air, you felt your headache lessen by the second.

Daniel opened the passenger door for you to get in, as he stared at you from above the frame of his sunglasses. "I'm not horrible, kid. I asked to stay behind, it was better than to leave you in the hands of strangers, all things considered."

"How cute."

"Don't make me regret this."

The journey wouldn't be long, you were less than two hours away from Olympia, but since you doubted your body would require another little nap, you hoped Daniel was in the mood for a nice and silent trip. Radio music was also a good alternative.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

There was no hope for the wicked apparently. "Talk about what?"

"Listen, I saw your face when I entered that room, you were ready to jump that guy. Has something happened?"

You sighed. "Nothing happened, just men being idiotic. Nothing new and nothing I can't handle."

"You're aware you repeated "nothing" three times, right? Seems to me you're trying to convince yourself rather than me."

"Please spare me this cheap therapist talk, Daniel, it doesn't suit you." You kept your head turned towards the window, trying to convey how much you wished for this conversation to be over.

"I could always check inside his mind, you know."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You forgot about that bloody vampire ability. "Since you haven't done it yet, I'm asking you to stay out of it. It's a private matter."

Daniel stayed quiet for a few moments, probably pondering on your words and your tone. "Alright, kid. Should you change your mind, I'm here."

"You cannot repair the relationship with your daughters by trying to impersonate the father figure with me."

"Who's giving me cheap therapist advice, now?"

You both looked at each other at the same time, before bursting out laughing. Well, as much as you could with the stitches on your side hurting like hell.

Silence finally settled in the car for the rest of the drive, and you decided to enjoy the moment of calm as long as it lasted. It would be chaos again around you soon enough.

---

One of the positive factors of living at night was that there was basically no one around when you got to the hotel in Olympia. Daniel informed you that all your luggage was already in your room, another thing covered by Christine in your absence — at least, you had packed everything before you left for the concert.

Once you assured Daniel for the umpteenth that you were fine and that you could handle taking the elevator by yourself, he finally left you on your own in the lobby.

You checked in at reception, getting the key to your room. Based on the schedule, everyone was at rehearsals at that hour, a part of you wanted to work on your laptop for a bit to catch up on what you missed while you were at the hospital, but Christine threatened you to tie your hands behind your back if you dared do anything beside rest for the next couple of days. Kinky.

It was probably the certainty of believing no one was around that made you miss the two figures sitting on the sofas right after the lobby, your mind set on going to your room as the pain on your side was getting more intense.

"Olivia."

You freezed on the spot at the sound of your name. You turned your head to the left, your eyes immediately graced by the sight of Lestat and Louis sitting together and staring at you.

"Aren't you supposed to be at rehearsals, Lestat?"

"When Daniel informed us you were on your way here, we decided to wait for you. Rehearsals are already over for tonight."

"Ah." You stood there for a moment, your gaze moving from one to the other every couple of seconds. "So?"

"Something is off," Lestat said, inclining slightly his head, "your heart is beating abnormally."

Not them too. "I just spent a full day at the hospital, and I have more than ten stitches right below my ribs. I think it's quite fair for me not to be at my best."

Louis squinted his eyes at you. "No."

No?

In a blink, Lestat was in front of you. He didn't give you the time to say anything before he lifted you off the ground, carrying you towards the elevator. You felt like he wanted to throw you on his shoulder, but he was being careful about your wound.

It would have been a nice gesture if it weren't for the fact you had no clue why he thought it was the right course of action for him to pick you up. "What the fuck, Lestat?! Put me down. Now!"

Lestat completely ignored your request, stopping right in front of the elevator doors waiting for them to open. Louis was close behind the both of you, a serious look on his face.

"Can you at least tell me where are you taking me?"

"Your room," Louis replied as you all entered the elevator, pressing the button with your floor number.

"I don't understand."

Lestat tightened his grip on your legs. "We're going to talk. You won't run away from us this time."

You tried to swallow at the prospect in front of you. You'd rather endure another stab on your side than sit through a questioning from these two.

Why would they even care?

Lestat put you down only once you reached your room, the door clicking open as Louis passed the key on the pad next to the handle. You weren't even surprised he managed to steal it from you while you were treated as a weightless sack of potatoes.

"I hope you both know this is ridiculous," you said as you walked straight to the sofa in the middle of the room. You hated the idea to have this discussion with them sitting down, but there was too much tension in your muscles, you were seconds away from ripping out your stitches voluntarily. "I'm perfectly fine. I just have to wait for the wound to heal without stressing myself, and for your information, you're not exactly helping right now."

"You're not fine," Louis stated firmly, as he rested his hip against the sofa opposite yours. "Other than your heartbeat, your hands are pulled into fists since you have arrived, your breath is short despite not having run, and you've been tensing your jaw every five seconds."

You glared at him. "I. Am. Fine."

"Do you even realize how vacant the look on your face is?"

Whatever retort you were about to say got stuck in your throat at Louis's question. Vacant. You didn't know why that word struck you so deeply, but for a few moments all the fight in you died. Your gaze moved from Louis to Lestat, who was leaning against the wall a few steps behind his companion. On his face the most serious expression since you had met him.

"Why is it important to you? You barely know me." Your voice came out so low that human ears would have had struggled to hear you.

"Because you make it so natural to care for you, even if you barely notice it." It was Lestat the one who spoke this time. "You've been on my radar since the day you arrived. You and that sharp little tongue of yours."

You closed your eyes, letting the words settle inside your mind, feeling them roam around your head for a few seconds, before you squared your shoulders putting your walls back up. When you opened them again, Lestat had moved away from the wall going to sit on the armchair on your left side. Louis was still standing against the sofa as before.

"Do not try to manipulate a confession out of me with silly soft words, Lestat."

Lestat's lips lifted in a small smirk instantly. "So you do have something to confess."

Little shit.

If he wanted to play, you were going to play alright.

"Are you insisting this strongly about something you only believe I'm hiding, solely because I don't want to fuck you, Lestat? If that's what you want, I'll give it to you."

You raised from the sofa, taking careful steps towards him, his eyes following every single movement of your body. Your pants brushed his once you reached him, but you didn't stop. You moved forward, lifting your knees one at a time to let them rest on the armchair on both sides of his hips, fully settling yourself on his lap in a straddle.

Lestat sat still as he looked at you, you had never been this close to each other before. His hands were on the cushions next to your legs, unmoving. Even his chest was barely rising, as if he willed his lungs to stop working.

"Is this what you wished for me to do, Lestat?" You asked, catching his face in your hands to look at him straight in his eyes. "Do you desire for me to treat you like your fans do? To jump on you like your groupies crave after each concert? To reduce you to an attractive and seducing body without a care for the living soul underneath?"

With the effort to let your emotions out without allowing them to completely break the seams and overflow, you put your body under even more strain than before. A small gasp left your mouth as you uttered you last sentence, the pain in your wound spiking and forcing you to close your eyes.

You distantly noticed hands on your waist moving you to your left, your back slowly coming to rest on the cushion of the armchair. You willed your eyes to open again, Lestat's face the first thing to come into focus. You were lying in the same spot Lestat was in a second ago, as he was now kneeling on the floor in between your legs, his hands still holding onto your sides.

"You tore your stitches. You're bleeding." Lestat's gaze was moving back and forth from your own to the area where your wound was hiding beneath your clothes.

"We should just take them out. Do you have tweezers or small scissors?" Louis asked, now standing right behind Lestat. You didn't even notice he had stepped closer.

You nodded slightly. "In the smallest luggage with the toiletries."

Louis moved away following your instructions, and you could hear him rummage through your belongings in the background. Lestat stayed on his knees in front of you, his attention never straying away from you once.

"You need to take off your sweatshirt. I can help you, if you want."

You reached for the zipper with your hands pulling it down slowly, Lestat's hands moving to your shoulders as he helped you slide the garment off your arms. You held your breath during the whole process, trying not to hurt yourself more than you already were. One of Lestat's arms came to circle around your back, his skin touching yours as he held your body up to completely remove your cloth.

Once you laid back down, you saw your blood staining your skin as it flowed out from your wound again, your stitches utterly ruined. You were sitting there in just your pants and bra, but you couldn't really bring yourself to care in that moment.

Louis finally came into view again, as he too knelt down next to Lestat with your nail scissors in his hand. "I'll take them out, and then we'll heal your wound. Okay?"

You nodded once more not trusting your voice.

"I'll be quick," Louis said as he got to work. And quick he was. With the touch of an expert he took them all out. You barely felt a thing, though you guessed the pain of the wound itself had made you numb to any other sensation.

As the last stitch left your skin, Lestat was already there with his thumb. You didn't see him cut his finger open, one of the many things that happened without you realizing since you stepped into your room. You watched with wonder while your gaping wound slowly closed, as if it never even existed in the first place.

Louis raised to his feet, stepping away to throw the stitches out and put the scissors back to their initial place. You lowered your gaze to look at Lestat still between your legs and, as your eyes locked with his, you watched him move closer to you.

You tried to keep your breath steady when you felt his lips touch your skin right below your bra. Lestat left a small kiss there, before moving to the side to kiss the spot where your wound had been.

"It's exactly because you treat me like a person that I can resist your pull. Almost no one sees me like that."

You stayed still, unable to do anything if not watch everything unfold. His words reaching deep inside you in a soft caress.

He moved lower, painting a trail on your belly ad goosebumps raised at every touch. He only stopped once he reached the top of your pants, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question. Your breath got stuck in your throat, as your mind woke from the trance he had put you in, like cold water thrown suddenly at your face.

"Stop, please."

Lestat pulled away immediately, but he didn't even hint at moving from his spot on the floor. Louis was sitting on the sofa on your right, his whole body turned in your direction. Had he been watching the two of you?

"Are you scared of me?" Lestat asked in a soft voice.

You didn't reply immediately.

"I think there's something else," Louis intervened before you could have a chance to say anything.

You stared at both of them, pondering on your next move as they waited calmly for you without moving an inch from their positions.

"I'm not scared of either of you," you started, taking a deep breath to give yourself a bit of a push. "I don't know what you're expecting, but I'm not hiding anything earth-shaking. There's just something I've been struggling with for many years now, and when I find myself in unexpected situation where I'm forced to face its existence head on, I falter each time like it's the first." You paused for a moment, as you tried to find the correct way to phrase what you wanted to say. You decided to start with the simplest part. "I have a condition called vaginismus."

Both Lestat and Louis frowned at the same time. You would have laughed at their synchronization, if your mind wasn't preparing itself for a bomb to explode.

"I have never heard of it before," Lestat commented first, "Explain it to me. To us."

You stood up from the armchair and sidestepped Lestat to move to the other side of the room. You needed some distance if you were really going to talk about one of the most personal and vulnerable part of yourself, and walking while talking surely prevented you from spiraling further.

"I'm not surprised that you don't know what vaginismus is. It's not well known among women, either." You were keeping your eyes to the ground, or on any piece of furniture around the room while you actively tried to avoid their gazes. "In medical terms you could describe it as a muscular hypertension of the vagina. The pelvic floor muscles keep contracting involuntarily, making any kind of penetration impossible."

"Any kind?" Lestat asked in the same tone of voice as before. You wondered what expression was on his face as he spoke.

"Yes. Even simple tampons are quite a challenge." You dared to look in their general direction, but they were both staring at you in a way that was impossible for you to decipher. "It's not a big deal, there are worse things. Sex is not mandatory in life, I just don't like people commenting on that. Especially men. And especially men in the medical field who should know to be tactful when it comes to this kind of disorders."

Louis's gaze darkened at your words. "So something did happen while you were at the hospital."

"It was just a comment, nothing more. It bothered me because it came from a nurse and, as I said, they should know better, and it took me off guard." You shrugged, like you wanted to get rid of the lingering irritation of that interaction. "I've heard similar words for years, I'm used to it by now. It's nothing I can't handle."

You could hear Daniel's voice in your ear bitching away about your repetition of the word "nothing". Maybe you were really trying to convince yourself that it was something insignificant even though you were well aware that it wasn't.

"What are these words?" Lestat asked, as he finally stood up from his spot on the floor stepping closer to you.

You weren't sure you wanted to reply. There was an irrational part that feared they were going to agree with those words, simply because every single time you had heard them you couldn't help but believe them yourself. The rational side of your mind knew it wasn't like that, but it was powerless against the resonance of the other.

"This time I was defined "a defective body"," you said, mentally congratulating yourself for managing to keep a steady voice. "There are different versions of it, but the meaning underneath is always the same. Broken, rotten, damaged goods, and so on."

You let out a bitter laugh. You stared at the two vampires in front of you, while your emotional turmoil raised steadily to the surface. Both Lestat and Louis were quiet as they listened to you, taking away the distance you had put between you one step at a time.

"The thing is, I never have an argument ready to fight against those words, because my first instinct is to say that each one of them is true." You swallowed, in an attempt to get rid of the broken sounds that threatened to imbue your voice. "I understand the sentiment, the reasoning behind it. I can't really fault them for thinking about me in that way. I just hate the ones who play the hero saying they aren't afraid, that they never back down from a challenge, and then, when they see firsthand that their dick is not Moses, they tell you that it was the most demoralizing experience of their life."

You were out of breath when you finally stopped talking. The tears that you tried and failed to push down were now running freely down your cheeks.

Louis's apparent stoic exterior was a stark contrast to Lestat's bloody eyes that were staring right at yours. He opened his mouth a couple of times, struggling to find what he wanted to say. "Oliv—"

"That's why I ran away yesterday. That's why I dodged every sexual remarks you had thrown at me in the past few weeks. Even if I were attracted to you, my body wouldn't work properly. I can't allow my mind to even entertain that thought."

Lestat was on you in a second, holding your face in his hands while his fingers wiped away your tears. "You're not damaged, Olivia. Just because something is harder and more complicated, it doesn't mean it isn't worth it."

You tried to shake your head but Lestat's hand were preventing you from moving. "It shouldn't be hard. Sex is one of the most natural things in the world."

"Then, be unnatural."

His words managed to pull your lips up in a small smile. It was so very Lestat to say something like that.

You took a long and deep breath, the storm inside growing quiet. Lestat removed his hands from your face, taking a step back. Louis was still standing in the same spot, with the same stony expression.

"Are you okay, Louis?"

He nodded. "I was just trying to get the face of that man from your mind, but of course I can't see a fucking thing."

You widened your eyes at his reply, your index pointing at him. "You don't kill people on my behalf. Especially for these silly reasons."

Louis simply shrugged. "I've done it for less."

You raised your hands in surrender, deciding that that was a good time for you to remove yourself from the conversation. You went to one of your suitcases to take out a change of clothes comfortable to sleep in and the necessary for a shower. You were so emotionally drained that even your body was asking for rest, despite having slept for a whole day at the hospital.

"I have a question," Lestat said from behind you.

"Go ahead."

"Your condition affects also your ability to reach an orgasm?"

You turned back around to look at him. "No. It's just a muscular thing, I can come alright."

A mischievous smile appeared on Lestat's face. "Good."

"Whatever your mind is thinking about, stop it. I don't have the energy for this. Louis put your companion on a leash."

Louis raised an eyebrow at you in response. "Don't ask for my help. I was wondering about the same thing."

Men. Always so unhelpful.

"I have an additional question, though," he continued, folding his arms against his chest, "Is vaginismus treatable in any way?"

That was unexpected. "Yes, it is. I've been in therapy for years."

"Without results?"

"With good results, actually, but you can't accomplish everything on your own. When a partner is in the picture everything changes again," you said, gathering the things you took out from your luggage in your arms. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a shower and go to bed, we can continue this conversation another day if you want. And before you can say anything, Lestat, you cannot join me in the shower."

"Next time, then."

You rolled your eyes, gesturing for them to head towards the door and, surprisingly, they followed your directions. You were basically kicking them out, but your batteries were now completely dead. They must have thought the same thing if even Lestat left without a single complain.

As soon as the door was closed, and you were finally alone in your room, all the remaining tension in your body vanished. You wanted to rewind the whole conversation and watch it from the beginning, but you weren't lying about how exhausted you were feeling. You would do it once your mind was back at full capability.

Your shower was quick. Your will set on getting into bed as fast as possible, so the moment your head touched the pillow you were out like a light.

You fell in such a deep slumber that you didn't even register the door of your room opening again.

---

If you reached the end, thank you so much! And if you feel like sharing your thoughts, I'd be glad to reach each of them.

"Hello, Daniel."

Jesus. He had a nice voice.

"I'm not Daniel," you clarified immediately, "I'm merely using his phone." You paused for a moment, but there was silence on the other side.

He wasn't hanging up either, though.

"I apologise for the call, but I didn't have another choice."

Still complete silence.

"What I mean is that I need to ask you a favor."

"A favor?" At least, he was listening.

"Would it be possible for you to come here?" You tried with a polite approach. You weren't sure this was the best plan, but you truly thought there was no other option. "Lestat needs you."

Another pause.

You started pacing around the room, unsure if you should wait for a reply or explain more.

You could feel Daniel's eyes on you, but you were completely ignoring his presence at present. You knew he was listening to the whole conversation, anyway.

You opened your mouth to say something more, but he beat you to it this time.

"Did Lestat ask you to do this?"

He sounded bothered by this possibility, as if the idea that Lestat contacted him through another person, instead of doing so himself, was an offense.

"No, and I don’t think he would be pleased if he knew I called you." You could almost hear him think about your words. For once, you wished to have the vampire ability to read minds.

It would make this easier. And faster. They might have all eternity in front of them, but you didn’t.

"Explain, then."

Where to start?

"Well, Daniel can't really shut his mouth when he should. His desire to reach the core of every little thing so strong he can't resist the pull even when the person is emotionally bleeding in front of him." You were still pacing around the room, gesticulating with the hand not holding the phone — Daniel had crossed his arms in front of chest, clearly unamused by your portrayal of him.

"Sounds like him."

Of course he knew, he had been one of Daniel's "victim" himself. The book a permanent reminder of it.

"Daniel forced Lestat to reveal traumatic events of his past with Magnus, his maker, and he had a full legitimate breakdown while recalling it."

Lestat allowed you to be in his personal space while he was crying. He let you dry his tears. It wouldn't have happened in a normal situation.

Your released a deep breath as your feet finally stopped in the middle of the room. "I know I'm asking much of you, and you both have your reasons for being apart, but he is in a bad place right now and you're the only one who can bring him out."

You weren't saying it explicitly, but you were basically begging him to come at this point.

"Okay."

Okay?

You were not prepared for a positive outcome, if you were honest. Not so fast, at least. "W-Well, we're still in Seattle for now. For a couple more nights."

"I know where you are."

"Great."

For someone who willingly told all his life story to Daniel, Louis wasn't being very talkative with you now. Yet, he still hadn't hung up.

Were you missing something?

"I'm waiting for you to introduce yourself. You know me and my name, but I don't know who you are."

"Fuck, sorry." You felt warmth creeping up your back and your neck. You were glad he could not see your face as you blushed in embarrassment. "I'm not normally this rude, I swear. I'm Olivia, Lestat's tour manager — and assistant." You thought of adding something more, but he didn't give you the time.

"See you tomorrow, Olivia." And he hanged up.

You could not say that was not how you expected the conversation to go, because you had never thought you would have one in the first place until today. Louis was like a ghost in your mind and a looming presence around Lestat, following him around wherever he went — but now you had tangible proof of his existence, and you weren't sure that the impression you got from talking to him truly aligned with the idea of him you had created in your head.

Still, you were going to find out how right or wrong you were soon enough.

Wait.

Did he say tomorrow?

---

When you woke the next day, you weren't feeling well rested. It was supposed to be everyone's day off, since no show was taking place that night and there was only one concert remaining for the following day. Yet all you could only think and worry about was what was awaiting for you as soon as the sun set.

Louis had texted you his landing time along with his flight brief — Daniel must have shared your contact details, which was kind of funny considering you didn't even know if Lestat had them. He preferred physically coming to find you, or asking for you, rather than reaching out by phone.

Still, Louis was very thorough in his communications. A businessman to the core.

You used the afternoon to settle all the arrangements for the next stop in Olympia. A brief and easy one. No flights to book since band and crew would move with the tour bus and vans. But at least, you could do something productive to get your mind off of all the rest.

Daniel asked if you wanted him to accompany you to the airport, but you believed the best course of action was going alone. Besides, you needed someone here to keep an eye on Lestat in the meantime, even though you didn't think it would be necessary. After the interview the previous night, he never left his suite.

You borrowed one of the crew's vans, phone set on the dashboard while you were driving to keep monitoring Louis's jet. Thankfully you had permission to get right on the tarmac, so you could pick him up as soon as the flight landed.

You were nervous. You managed to push it down during the journey, but once you parked it hit you all at once. If you were a smoker you could entertain yourself while you waited, instead you were just standing there with your back against the side of the van and your eyes fixed in the sky.

Only a few minutes were separating you from the encounter, yet when two red lights and the outline of the plane came into view it felt like you had been there for ages. When the wheels touched the ground, you stretched the fingers of both your hands to release some tension from your body.

You stepped a little closer, your breathing faltering a bit when Louis appeared at the top of the stairs.

You only had the descriptions you read in the book as reference for his physical appearance, which always portrayed him as a handsome man with a dark complexion. And handsome he was. You understood why Lestat was still writing songs about him, even a century later.

"Louis de Pointe du Lac, it's a pleasure to meet you in person," you said, extending your hand.

He smiled slightly, accepting your offer. "The pleasure is all mine, Olivia Cranthorpe."

You never mentioned your last name in your conversation with him, so he must have looked you up before coming here. You would have been flattered by the action if it weren't just his way to be fully in control of the situation, and one step ahead of his opponent. Standard business mindset.

"Are you only traveling with two suitcases? Don't you have, you know, a coffin with you?"

He laughed at your question, his face brightening up with the movement as you stared at him in shock. It was unfair for a man to be this beautiful. You already had to deal with Lestat with his ethereal and statuesque beauty, and you could only manage it because he spent every day acting like a menace to everyone around him, so you didn't have time to stop and simply stare at him.

Louis's beauty was darker, and not only because of the color of his skin. He and Lestat were two sides of the same coin: Lestat was the sun, and Louis the moon. The first was blinding and you could only stare at him for a little before lowering your gaze, the latter had an hypnotic effect and once he captured your gaze you could not turn away. A match made in heaven. Or in hell.

"My coffin has already been delivered to the hotel. It's easier and safer that way."

You didn't question him further on that matter, vampiric dynamics were way out of your field of expertise. You motioned for him to follow you to the van, and he fell into step right next to you.

You had almost an hour drive ahead to go back to the hotel and, while you felt less nervous now that you had met him, you could not say you were ready for it. Were you going to have small talk with him? It sounded ridiculous in your head.

"So, you're Lestat's assistant," Louis said from the passenger seat. He was sitting comfortably, but his head was fully turned towards you. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, even as your focus was on the road.

"Tour manager, mainly," you replied hastily, "But yes, also assistant and not really by choice." You were wrong. Again. You didn't think he was going to engage in conversation with you, let alone starting one himself.

"Do you like working for him?"

"It's a job. Rough start but we found a balance." It was a simple answer, but true. Also, you were trying not to divert your attention from your driving. Traffic was getting more intense now, which meant you were going to be stuck in the van with Louis longer than you had anticipated. "Will you keep staring at me all the way to the hotel?"

"Does it bother you?"

"Is it because you can't fully read my mind?"

You felt him falter at your question, probably not expecting you to be conscious of this detail.

"Daniel told me. I wasn't aware of it as I wasn't aware that vampires were real, but I don't really know how it works. I'm trying to see which thoughts are filtered and which ones are heard." Why were you telling him this? Was it because it was the first time in the last few weeks you had a chance to talk about yourself? "So, I believe right now you have no access to my mind, correct?"

"Correct."

You slowed the van to a stop as all the vehicles in front of you were now in a queue. You took advantage of the situation to turn your head to look at Louis with a small smile. "I guess you have to proceed in the old-fashioned way and ask your questions directly."

He raised his eyebrows in response, but soon a smirk was adorning his face. " I guess so."

"I know I'll regret it, but feel free to ask whatever you want."

"What kind of relationship do you and Lestat have?"

You couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes, you were already fully regretting your idea. "Lestat and I only have a professional relationship, just like the one he has with Christine."

"So you're not planning to sleep with him?"

You laughed as you turned your attention back on the road. The traffic was finally clearing. "No, I'm not planning to sleep with him. Or anyone for that matter."

He hummed at your reply. "You don't find him attractive, then?"

"Of course, he is attractive. Just like you are." You were trying to figure out where this line of questioning was leading to, but you were lost. It didn't feel like he was jealous. "But why do you want to know?"

"Because you care for him." This time it was your turn to be taken by surprise, but you tried not to show it on your face. "And normally, people care for him only because they want something from him."

"I don't want anything from him," you said softly, "And the only thing I want is for him to complete the tour in his best conditions."

"Then, why did you call me?" Louis's voice was firm and sure now, like he had finally figured how to solve a riddle.

You squeezed the wheel in frustration, "I just told you, it is only for the sake of the tour."

"You didn't need to do that. You could simply have thrown drugged groupies at him to cheer him up, so he could complete his shows." He paused for a second, looking away from you for the first time since getting into the van. "If your first solution was to reach out to me, it's because you care about his feelings more than all the rest."

You stopped the van right in front of the hotel, and turned off the engine. You made no motion to open the door and neither did Louis.

"Maybe I do care for Lestat," you said, closing your eyes. You sighed as you leaned your head back against the seat. "Sometimes when I look at him, I see the vulnerability underneath this persona he wants everyone around him to believe. I see his pain, too. I have this instinct to shield him from himself, just like it happened last night."

You turned your head to look at Louis again, who was staying silent next to you.

"Are you satisfied now?"

He nodded. The soft smile back on his face. "Very satisfied. Now I know I can trust you with him."

You squinted your eyes at him. "So it was a test?"

"That's one way to call it."

You shook your head in disbelief, opening the door of the van. "Are all vampires this troublesome? I don't think I'd like to meet any more of you."

Louis laughed as he got off the vehicle, following you to the hotel entrance. "According to Daniel, you can be quite troublesome too."

"Fucking old man" you scoffed, quickening your pace. "Come on, let me take you to Lestat. After all, that's why you're here."

---

"Can you, you know, feel if he's inside?" you asked in a low voice, once you reached the door to Lestat's suite.

Louis nodded. "I can hear his heartbeat."

"Do you think he can hear yours too?"

"He can, but it depends if he believes I'm actually here or not."

You reached towards the door with the card-key. Christine gave you one in case of necessity, but this was the first time you actually had to use it. Once you heard the click of the lock, you pushed it open.

You stepped inside first, trying to make as little noise as possible. The lights were turned on but dim, casting a soft aura around the room. "Lestat?"

"Not now, poussin."

He was sitting on the sofa, wearing only the bottom of his pajamas. His head all the way back as his eyes were staring at the ceiling. He looked completely spent and empty.

Louis, who had been waiting on the threshold and out of view, stepped forward. "Lestat."

He groaned at the sound of Louis's voice, raising his arms and pressing the heels of his hands on his eyes. "Merde. Pas toi, aussi." He thought he was hallucinating.

"Lestat, Louis is really here. I called him."

He lifted his head from the back of the sofa, eyes focusing on you both. "What?"

"I'm here, mon cher."

"Louis." Lestat's voice broke as he said his name. Eyes turning red, bloody tears seconds away from falling down his cheeks.

You took a deep breath at the sight. "I'll leave you two alone now. If you need me, my room is right on the floor below."

Louis nodded slightly, eyes never leaving Lestat.

And with that you left without waiting for further acknowledgement.

---

Louis's eyes were fixed on Lestat, barely registering the door closing behind him. Olivia had left leaving the two of them alone.

Tears were trickling down Lestat's face. The scenery might have changed to a five stars hotel but he looked just as miserable as the day they reconciled back in his shack in New Orleans.

Louis took off his shoes before moving closer to the sofa. Lestat never blinked during the approach, as if he didn't want to miss any of Louis's movements. Once he was a breath away from him, Louis knelt down between his legs. An action he only felt safe to do in front of Lestat, no one else.

"Olivia told me what happened," he said softly, "do you want to talk about it?"

Lestat shook his head. "I can't, Louis." His voice so hurt and broken that Louis could feel his pain through their bond as if it was his own. Louis raised from his sitting position, putting all his weight on his knees, and reached for Lestat with his arms. He managed to move merely a couple of inches before Lestat threw himself against him, hands clutching desperately on Louis's back with his nails piercing his skin through the shirt. "I don't want to remember."

"I know. I know." Louis tried to reassure him, holding his body as firmly as he could so that Lestat could use him as anchor. "I'm here. You can let go now."

And he did. Gut-wrenching sobs were coming out of his mouth, so physically demanding that his whole body was shaking and curling up in itself. Louis knew roughly what happened to Lestat at Magnus's hands, but he didn't need the full picture to understand how traumatic it was for him to experience, especially if even centuries later his whole self refused to relive it. Was he ashamed of what he had to endure? Didn't he trust Louis enough with this burden? Or maybe he felt it was the rightful punishment for him to suffer, for a sin he believed he had to atone and could not allow himself to share it with someone else.

The answer was somehow obvious to Louis: Lestat was abandoned by every person that came into his life, even when he showed the best of himself. It was natural for him to hide what he believed were his ugliest and darkest parts, anything that made him unlovable even though they still managed to break through many times.

"Lestat," Louis called softly. At some point they both had slipped to the floor, Lestat still lying in his arms and in between his legs. "Look at me."

He waited for a few moments, giving Lestat the time to collect himself and move his body back a little. When they finally looked at each other, his eyes were still blood red and puffy, his need to start crying again barely contained.

"Louis. You're here." Louis smiled lightly at him. Lestat had just spent several minutes in his arms, and only seemed to realize in that moment that Louis was actually there in the room with him. "Why?"

"Olivia called me."

Lestat frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side, "I don't understand."

"She saw you breaking down in front of her. She thought that the best course of action was asking me to come." Louis lifted his fingers to Lestat's face, wiping away the bloody tears that were starting to dry on his skin.

"Why did you accept?"

Louis turned his gaze to the floor for a moment, before looking back into his eyes, "I liked the sound of her voice when she said you needed me." He paused, letting his words fully settle inside Lestat. "She cares for you."

"I mistreat her all the time, mon cher."

"And she sees you right through that," Louis shot back immediately, "and maybe she likes it a little. She seems a bit of a masochist."

Lestat smirked at him, the gesture bringing the brightness back on his face. "She's also a bit of a sadist. She bullies Monsieur Molloy all the time."

"That's a sight I'd love to see."

Silence fell again between them, but it was a pleasant one this time. The calm after the storm. "Will you stay?" Lestat asked.

"For a few days, yes," Louis replied, nodding. "I cannot follow you for the whole tour, but I'll reach you when my schedule is free. Now I know I can worry less, I can trust Olivia with you."

"Should I worry, Louis? You seem to like her a little too much."

"I could say the same thing." He rolled his eyes, but he was glad to see Lestat back to his playful self.

He was so focused on studying his face for any lingering signs of pain that he failed to notice Lestat moving, until he felt his hands on him. More precisely, until he felt his hands slowly lifting up his shirt and pulling it out of his pants.

Louis released a short breath at the action, a shiver sliding down his spine as soon as the touch reached his skin. "Lestat," he said in warning, but his tone lacked any real intention. He was gladly welcoming the attention.

"I missed you, mon cher," Lestat whispered, his lips slowly caressing Louis's jawline and gliding down his neck. "I need to feel your skin on mine."

Louis nodded in reply, reaching up to unbutton his shirt, but Lestat was faster. He heard more than felt the fabric be ripped open, the buttons falling on the floor in a delicate clinking. "I liked that shirt."

"I'll buy you another."

Louis was about to retort, but his words died on his tongue as Lestat quickly stood up lifting him in his arms. It's been a long time since he let himself being manhandled by the man in front of him, and he didn't feel like complaining.

As Lestat was walking towards the bedroom, Louis took advantage of his position to slide his fingers gently through his blond hair, giving it a firm pull at the base of his nape. Lestat's steps faltered a little as his head followed Louis's command and moved back. They looked in each other's eyes for a moment, searching for any sign telling them to stop, but the same desire was perfectly mirrored in the other's gaze.

When Louis finally lowered his face allowing their lips to touch, Lestat stopped walking completely. They both needed to savor this moment. Their first kiss in decades, and yet it was as powerful as the one they shared when Louis was still human.

This one was carried by necessity, the urgency to feel the other's presence simmering beneath both their skin. Their mutual love was still there, though muted by all the years they've been apart. Louis knew they will have to find the time to talk about all they left unsaid, but for now what was important was to allow their bodies to speak for them.

The world could wait outside for another day.

__

My darlings, I hope you reached the bottom again -- of the story, not of life hopefully!

So, let me know if you'd like to have more of these Loustat moments in future chapter, and if I should try to explore something more physical between them. As I mentioned, it's been a while since I wrote something, but if you'd like to read more I'll gladly do it!

In addition, I decided to give Olivia my pelvic floor disorder (how awful of me, but so is vaginismus). There aren't many stories out there for these conditions and, you know, maybe someone else will feel validated to feel the way they feel if there are characters who share the same "fate".