#lestat x reader

You’ll never get used it. Having him inside you, in your body and mind. Feeling his fingers curl around you, as his thoughts intertwine with your own, so tempting and damning. Just this evening as he had risen from his coffin, he had come to you, made you weep from pleasure before whisking you out into New Orleans’ streets, the sun finally set safely below the horizon. 

You live for the night now. Come alive as the moon rises, as your lover wakes. 

“How do you do it?” you ask him suddenly, leaning eagerly across the table towards him. He quirks a fine brow, though he already knows what you’re about to ask him. He always knows. “I mean, the mind thing. How does it work? Do you just think at people? Is it loud? Do you hear everything all the time?”

It’s hard to imagine the kind of power he must possess. Hard to wrap your mortal brain around the idea of having constant access to the thoughts that surround you, the endless inner musings and secrets never spoken aloud. Can’t understand how it doesn’t drive a person mad. 

But Lestat hardly looks disturbed. Rather, he looks pleased, like a cat that’s caught the canary. His lips quirk, a sharp grin as he stubs his cigarette slowly in the ash tray, the smoke curling gently up, up and away. You can smell the nicotine, feel eager to taste it on his tongue. 

“Trade secret, my dear,” he tells you. And then, in a teasing whisper as he leans towards you, “But it’s less shouting, more… slipping a hand under skirts.”

You can feel rather than see his hand under the table, reaching out to brush where your legs are hidden. 

Quiet. Intimate.

It startles you slightly, his voice as it drifts through your mind, his gaze still steady on you. Gentle and warm, like a tongue as it licks your thoughts. You wonder then if he can hear the pounding of your heart, if he can smell your excitement in the air. 

Yes, cherie, I know all. You look so pretty the way you blush. You look so pretty when you’re desperate for me. 

You see it then, the moment he brings to the forefront of your mind, memories of you intertwined, his sweat dripping on your skin, your eyes wide as he stretches you open. You on your back in the townhouse an hour ago, thighs trembling over his shoulders, the pleas that fell from your lips, how beautiful they sounded in his ears. You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, warm and mortifying. 

Lestat leans back then, the picture of innocence. “Voilà,” he says. “Easy. Though I hardly need the gift. Mortals are so terrible at hiding what they want.”

“And you’re not?” You can’t help the challenge that falls from your lips, unable to resist the urge to fight for the upper hand. Something about the way he says mortals, as if trying to lump you in with all the rest. 

But his eyes gleam.

Au contraire, mon coeur. I want you badly. Along with every other man and woman in this room. Look. 

He tilts his head and you follow his gaze to the woman at the bar. She lounges in a scantily short dress, her stockings and slim ankles on display where she is perched. A cigarette in one hand, large, dark eyes peering at you from under the fringe of her short bob, lips pulling out a drag of smoke. 

She’s been watching us all night, wondering if you taste as sweet as you look. Wondering if I share. 

Your breath stutters in your chest, and you peer shyly at the woman as she cocks an eyebrow curiously at you. It looks like an invitation. You whip back towards Lestat, your growing embarrassment making the room suddenly seem unbearably hot. 

A couple passes by then, hands linked, laughter ringing out in the air. Young, beautiful, in love with life and the party around them and the alcohol thrumming in their system. The man glances at you before quickly looking away, and you wouldn’t have thought anything of it, until Lestat whispers in your mind once again. 

He’s imagining what you might look like on your knees. While I watch. Quite a vivid imagination, I must say. 

The man looks back then to catch another glimpse of you before he disappears into the crowd. 

“You’re wicked, Lestat,” you say with a pout. 

“And you’re radiant. I could go all night, darling. Would you like to hear more?” 

“You’ve made your point.” You can’t help the smile that creeps along your lips at this silly game he plays. But feel as if you might combust if he carries on, that you might melt into the ground in mortification if you hear one more dirty thought whispered in your mind. 

Lestat leans closer then, elbows on the table, gaze penetrating and says softly, “Every man and woman here dreams of ruining you. But you still taste me on your tongue, don’t you? Does your jaw still ache, cherie?”

“You know it does.” Your lashes flutter as you follow his lead, falling into his orbit. “And you never said thank you.” 

“I apologise for my rude manners,” he says, amused. “How can I make it up to you?” 

Your lips part but you don’t get the chance to answer before he brings a hand up, swiping his thumb along your lower lip.

“I could take you now. I could make the waiter drop his tray just by thinking of you spread on this table, skin bare, my mouth…”

The passing waiter does stumble then, as if someone had yanked on an invisible string, and the drinks topple over, splashing on the ground. You gasp and duck your head, trying not to notice the dark liquid now pooling across the floor, creeping towards to your feet. 

You stood in the doorway of his backstage dressing room, arms crossed over your chest as you rest against the door frame.

“Mon ange.” He greeted before even turning around to face you. You smiled, standing up straight with a slight tilt of your head. “I figured you’d be hungry before your show.” Lestat turns around now, leaning back against his vanity, resting on his palms. “Always so kind.” He lifts a hand, luring you over with a curl of his finger.

“Come to me.”

You hear echo through your head.

Taking a step forward, you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down your body, locked on the way your hips sway as you walk towards him. His hands find your waist once in reach, pulling you in. You feel his breath on your ear before he says anything. A chill runs up your spine as you melt into him instantly.

“Se détendre, mon cherie.” He whispers before his lips meet your neck, placing a soft kiss before his teeth sink into your skin. Lestat hummed in satisfaction as your blood coated his throat, squeezing your waist in reply to the yelp that just left your lips. Your head felt dizzy as he drank from you, and you gasp when he retracts his fangs.

“You’re stressed. I can taste it on my tongue.” He backs up, only slightly, letting his eyes trail down your figure once more. “I can also see it in the way that you carry yourself.”

You stay silent as your head lowers, keeping your eyes on the ground. Lestat cups your chin with his fingers, lifting your head so he can look at you. “I have to go on stage. I want you to stay here and wait for me. Understood?” You nod in reply, and you can’t hold back the smile that pulls at your lips when he kisses you. It’s only for a few seconds, but it was enough to lift some of the weight off of your shoulders.

-

It was loud, and you could feel the bass bouncing off of the walls of his dressing room. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone as you impatiently waited for him to come back to you.

“Mon amour.” You jump at hearing his voice. You hadn’t realized that the show had ended. “You listened. Good.” He grinned, sauntering towards you. Lestat sits down beside you, sliding down a bit to get comfortable as he spreads his thighs. “Strip.”

You scoff, eyes widening. “What?” Lestat tilts his head. “I don’t like repeating myself.” He lowers his gaze, looking at you with hooded eyes. “Strip.”

It doesn’t take much convincing after that. You stand up, placing yourself in front of him as you lift your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the ground beside you. Your jeans follow quickly after, leaving you only in your bra and underwear.

“Good girl. Now, come here.” He praises, patting his lap. You smile and lower yourself onto his thighs, laying your arms over his shoulders as your hands find his hair. His hands grab your hips, squeezing gently as he kisses your neck. “Missed you.” You sigh, tossing your head back a little to expose more of your neck to him. “As I have missed you.” He whispers against you, before feeling teeth puncture your skin again.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your hips jerk forward ever so slightly. Lestat lowers his right hand, his fingers ghosting over your cunt through your underwear. Still drinking from you, he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the lace, causing the fabric to fall apart and off of your hips into his lap. He tosses it to the side, and without warning two of his fingers find your clit, rubbing slow circles. He curls them slightly, collecting more of your slick before applying more pressure. Your gasp turns into a moan as he speeds up, and your hands grip his shoulders.

Lestat retracts his teeth from your neck once more. “Look at me.” He said softly, wanting to see the way your face contorts in pleasure as he touches you. You lower your head, looking him in the eyes. Your cheeks are flushed, brows furrowed with your lips parted. “Tres bien, mon amour.” He smiles, keeping your attention on his face as his fingers slide lower, circling your entrance before pushing in until he’s deep inside of you. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. “So fucking wet.” He groans, slowly pumping his fingers in and out, curling them against the spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

“Les.” You moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Yes?” He quips, as his left hand moves your hips to meet his thrusts. You can’t speak clearly, gasps and whines falling from your lips. Knowing he’s in your head, you think,

Faster.

He smirks, but does as he’s asked. His fingers pick up pace, and the room is filled with sounds of your pleasure and the squelching of your wetness with each thrust of his fingers. Anyone walking by could hear, but frankly? You don’t care. Your head falls to the crook of his neck, burying your face in it. His left hand leaves your waist, and finds itself in your hair. Lestat’s thrusts become harder, and a loud moan gets lost in his neck as your bury your face deeper.

The hand that’s in your hair tightens around the strands before pulling your head back, forcing you to look at him again. “Don’t hide from me. Let me hear you.” His thumb reaches for your clit, and he lets out a low moan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, sucking him in impossibly deeper. “Les, I-” your words are cut off by a whimper when he presses his thumb harder.

It hits you like a shock wave and you can’t stop it. Your orgasm washes over you as you toss your head back, calling out his name. He helps you ride through it, slowing his pace down until your thighs are trembling. He gently pulls his fingers out of you, and when you finally look at him again, he brings his fingers to his lips and Lestat’s eyes close in satisfaction as he tastes you on his tongue.

The moment he pulls his fingers away, your lips are on his. The kiss is filthy. Tongue and teeth clashing against each other as you fumble trying to unbutton his shirt. You slide it off of his shoulders, running your hands down his torso. Your lips never part as you undo his belt, and without struggling he lifts his hips with you still on top of him and pulls his pants down. His cock springs free, tip swollen and leaking.

You smile before spitting down on his cock, taking it into your hand and slowly stroking him as you kiss your way from his chest up to his neck. He lets out a shaky breath, hips bucking into your hand. You continue for a few moments, before adjusting yourself so that the head of his dick is pressed against your entrance. His hands tighten at your waist, pushing you down to the base. Another gasp turns into a moan, as he’s barely given you any time to adjust. Lestat lifts you up and then down again, grinning when your mouth falls into an ‘O’ shape.

“There you go. Let it all go.” His voice is deep, cutting through the thick air as your body is overcome with pleasure. You get impatient with his slow movements, gathering the energy to lift yourself up and down on his cock, bracing yourself with your hands on the back of the couch. “Fuck.” He groans. You pick up speed, thighs beginning to shake around him as he pushes you closer to the edge.

Lestat leans forward, biting into your chest as his right hand travels low, fingers pressed against your clit once more as he traces fast circles this time. Your sounds are impossible to hide now.

“Filthy whore. Do you hear yourself?” His voice is clear in your head as he drinks from you.

“Shut up.” You spit through your teeth, so close you can almost taste it. He stops you immediately, and the whine that leaves you is pathetic. “Care to repeat yourself?” Lestat raises a brow. “Shut up and fuck me.” It comes out before you can fully think about it, and you almost regret it when he moves you in the blink of an eye, now bent over the arm of his leather couch. His thrusts are brutal. Hard, fast, tip kissing your cervix.

And oh, it hurts so good.

His hand wraps itself in your hair, pulling you back so you’re pressed against his front as he drives into you. “Is this what you wanted, hm? To be fucked like a slut?” Lestat teases, lips pressed against your ear. You moan, this new angle hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t even know could be reached.

“I asked you a question, I expect an answer.” He says, never ceasing his movements behind you. You try to speak, but the only sounds that come out are moans and incoherent babbling.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He mocks you, laughing before speaking again. “Feels good?” The only thing you can do is nod, deciding words are impossible right now. “Oh, yes?” You nod again, tears of pleasure beginning to stream down your cheeks.

You feel yourself getting close again, and the way you’re tightening around him has Lestat throwing his head back. “Please.” You manage to choke out, and before he can say anything, another orgasm washes over you. It’s stronger than the last, and it’s even more intense when you feel him release inside of you at the same time.

Your moans collide as you both ride out the high of each other, and when his thrusts slow to a stop your body falls limp into his arms. Lestat pulls out, and turns you around before laying you back onto the couch. He lowers himself between your thighs, kissing your hot skin while he squeezes your hips.

Your sure and light steps echoed on the marble floor of the large bathroom. A mirror adorned one wall of the large shower, opposite the white stone showerhead, as if it had been placed there with deliberate care, which it was. The mirror was particularly large and arched, resembling a passageway, a rugby player could have easily passed through it, and every time you pointed it out, he would chuckle and tenderly kiss your forehead.

The silk robe fell to the floor with a soft thud, and you turned on the hot water before slipping underneath. Everything in this room was meticulously arranged, every item of furniture, every color, every decorations had its designated place, like on a TV set. Nothing had been left to haphazard, and it had all been planned by him with you in mind.

Your reflection quickly appeared on the misty mirror, your hands gliding over your skin to spread soap while water trickled down your chest and stomach.

After a few moments, something in the air shifted, and you knew, you knew he was there, on the other side of the mirror, enjoying the view. Probably sitting on a wooden chair by the fire with a glass of wine, or blood, depending on his mood. Because he always was.

It had been his idea to put that mirror in the bathroom, of course, and every time he admired you leaning forward so gracefully, he thanked the devil for having such a brilliant idea.

Your former boss and constant mentor had gotten a lot more brash since the vampire Armand jumped him and made him a bloodsucking creature of the night. He used to be straight up insufferable; at least until he allowed the cracks to show during a late night editing session several years ago, in which he revealed how much you reminded him of his daughters, how much he cared for you in a way that was deeper than just a writer and his assistant. He was still insufferable afterward, but you were bonded, considered him family; the pissy, dangerous uncle with a heart of gold you never had.

Which is why you didn’t appreciate him delving into your thoughts and witnessing the orgasm the vampire-turned-rockstar you’d been interviewing with him for the past month had given you just two nights prior.

“Okay, first of all, shut the hell up,” you snapped in a hiss-whisper. “Second of all, you promised not to read my mind, you freak.”

“Hey, that one wasn’t on me,” Daniel retorted gruffly, downing the rest of his whisky in one swig to clear his mind of the traumatic image of Lestat’s face contorted in ecstasy. “That one was so strong I had no choice but to see it. Now I won’t be able to think of anything but what Lestat’s cock feels like when I look at him for the rest of this project.”

You gagged. At least he hadn’t seen you naked. You liked him way too much, despite him being himself, and didn’t want any need to cut ties with him to arise.

“Seriously though, what have I told you about getting personally involved with a subject?” Daniel quipped. He’d recovered from the shock of it all, now glaring at you sternly over the rim of his frameless glasses.

“… To not do that,” you answered sheepishly.

There was a reason you never followed him into the journalism field, only helping on the Lestat project because he’d asked you to, offering to pay twice your annual salary for your assistance; you were way too empathetic, too loving to detach yourself from the people you encountered on personal interest projects like these. It had happened with much less disastrous results when he’d interviewed Louis and Armand, leading to an all-too-close friendship with Louis that persisted even after the project was over and the book published.

A friendship which, thinking of it now, was probably in serious jeopardy now that you’d knocked boots with his ex husband.

“Oh, he’s pissed,” Daniel answered the thought without it being voiced. You scowled, wanting to throw the nearest, heaviest object at him.

“Quit reading my thoughts!” you demanded. “Why is Louis even in your head right now anyway?”

I heard him say you fucked Lestat. That can happen, kind of a subconscious thing when vampires are socially connected like us.

Louis’ disembodied voice seethed in your head, but not with anger at you like you’d expected and feared; he was gunning for Lestat, ready to tear the balls from his scrotum for seducing you, a defenseless mortal, when you already had so much stake in vampire entanglements being Daniel’s protege and Louis’ platonic companion.

You groaned, standing abruptly, shaking the glassware on the table noisily as you did.

“I’m leaving,” you spat. “I need two seconds away from you overgrown mosquitos.”

You stormed out of the restaurant, not caring how much of a scene you made, red in the face that Daniel was trying to suppress laughter at your dig. You were thankful that he didn’t try to call you back, knowing your limits, always respectful of the cooling-off periods you took when you would inevitably butt heads.

The city was cool and peaceful as you exited the building and walked along the river, watching the skyline on the opposite bank and taking deep, heaving breaths.

You felt so stupid for falling for Lestat the way you did, letting him into your bed when you knew every red flag about him; least of them that he would eat you if you weren’t careful. It had been so long since you’d felt so wanted though, and fucking him had made you feel more than just desired; he’d romanced you, devoured you, made love to you in such a way that you felt like your soul had been touched, kissed, worshipped via the senses of your skin. Every second thought was a memory, of his soft laughter, his husky voice in your ear, his stubble scraping the insides of your thighs as his nails dug into your plush skin. You could still feel his lips, the tenderness of them, their ghosts making their way from your jaw to your neck to your breasts to your stomach and lower, lower, until he was playfully nipping at your ankle.

You sighed heavily. You wished he meant any of it.

At least you see he’s a liar.

Louis’ voice cut clear through your own internal monologue, making you grit your teeth.

You won’t make the same mistakes I did with him.

“Louis, I’d really like a moment alone,” you quipped out loud. “I don’t want you in my head right now.”

I’m just making sure you’re okay. It’s a lot, I know, but it’s all ‘cause we care about you.

“Maybe, but it’s also because you all hate Lestat,” you grumbled. “Daniel maybe not so much but you, you especially hate him. You’re going to hold my own stupidity against him when I’m just as to blame as he is for fucking my best friend’s ex.”

Lestat has supernatural powers of manipulation. He could have compelled you into sex and made you feel like it was all your idea.

What Louis didn’t know is that it was your idea. Much as he still loved to pretend that Lestat was this infallible supervillain, all superficial charm and evil intentions without any real substance, the truth was that somewhere, Lestat still cared for him, and in the years since their parting had learned to respect him. You noticed it throughout your friendship with Louis in the way he kept his distance, never pressing, never begging for forgiveness or for Louis to take him back as a lover; it became even more apparent when you met him for the first time and his eyes hardly strayed from you, his attraction to you as little-guarded as every other emotion he felt, but he never once did so much as even flirt with you. He knew what you meant to Louis, knew that acting on his desires would hurt him deeply; it was you who'd crossed the line, asking if he'd like to meet you for dinner after shooting under the guise of "getting to know him better, without lights and cameras in the way", you who invited him to your hotel room, you who told him it was okay, he could kiss you if he really wanted. None of it had been compulsion; you spent enough time around vampires to know when your thoughts had stopped being your own.

"Don't make me a victim," you snapped back at Louis. "You know me better than that."

I know Lestat better than that, too.

"So what, you think Lestat only fucked me to get on your nerves? Because I'll be honest, Lou, I've spent enough time with him to believe that he's not the same bitchy abuser he was when you were together. He's let a lot of it go."

Don't defend him.

"Don't belittle me!"

She's right, Louis. You're infantilizing her. You and I know well she is not some helpless damsel.

"Oh for fuck's sake, not you t-"

You stamped in an angry fit, turning as you tossed your bag onto the cobbled sidewalk in frustration, expecting the lane beside you to be empty but instead meeting the striking blue eyes of a lean, elegant man perched under a nearby streetlight. He grinned at you, amused, stubbing out his cigarette under a studded boot before sauntering towards you.

"... I didn't think you'd actually be here," you told Lestat, stating the obvious.

"I knew you and Daniel were dining nearby to exchange notes," he explained. "I was coming anyway, to offer to walk you back to your hotel, when I heard you arguing with my old paramour. Bonjour, mon cher."

You clenched your hands, focusing on the press of your nails into the lines of your palms, affectively blocking Louis from intruding on any more of your thoughts. It took effort, but it was possible.

"I don't want him to hear us. Please," you begged Lestat. "… I would really like it if you walked me home."

"Of course," he replied. "You have my word."

He bent and gathered your abused bag from the pavement, returning it to you before offering his arm. You took it in a tentative grasp, resting our fingertips in the crook of his elbow. Together, you made your way along the riverside.

The walk was silent for several minutes, time spent basking in the beautiful weather, the unusual serenity of the empty street. With every gentle breath of wind you could smell him, metallic under the musky sweetness of expensive cologne, the same scent you found on your sheets the morning after he'd spent the night. He raised his opposite hand to cover yours where it lay on his sleeve, giving your knuckles a gentle squeeze.

"I presume he found out about us," Lestat speculated, breaching the subject much more gracefully than you would have.

You nodded, a pit of shame opening in your stomach and starting to gnaw at you.

"Yeah. And even though I'm the one who started it, he's convinced you compelled me to get back at him."

Lestat tsk'ed, sucking on his teeth.

"Dégoûtant, those of our kind who do such things. The sex is no fun if your partner is an unwilling puppet. Louis remains certain I did the same to him."

"You stalked him and killed the priest he was confessing to."

"We fucked before that. No coercion necessary."

You glanced over to find the man fixing you with a teasing smirk, another pulse of his fingers around yours.

"Ma cherie, I knew if I were to have you, you would have to come to me of your own volition," Lestat continued. "I knew you would not come willingly if I tried. You were 'off limits', for lack of a better term."

"Because of Louis," you finished his thought.

He sighed softly, tilting his head back as he searched for the correct words.

"... Not just because of Louis," he finally stated. "You are very protective of yourself. I do not think you are entirely aware of it, but you hold your knowledge of your worth like a shield. It is what drew me to you. Instead of fawning over me or outright hating me, you made me feel as though I had to prove myself worthy of you, gain your favor and acceptance to exist in your eyes, let alone seduce you. You demand your permission be given before others may lust after you. It is quite sexy, for a certain type of man."

"And you're that certain type of man?"

Lestat chuckled.

"Excessive eagerness bores me in a lover," he mused. "I enjoy a challenge, and yours is uniquely beautiful."

You considered his words, feeling yourself start to ease. He certainly didn’t sound like a jilted lover trying to get back at an ex, but an inherent distrust still tugged at you.

Something vibrated at your side, pulling you from your thoughts. Lestat huffed as he separated from you to remove his phone from his jacket pocket, laughing jadedly as he showed you the caller ID: Louis de Pointe du Lac. He flicked the call to voicemail, and a moment later turned up the speaker so you could hear the message Louis left.

“I know you’re with her, bitch. Pick up.”

Lestat chuckled, shaking his head as he pressed delete.

“He used to tell me I was melodramatic,” he joked. “I suppose there’s more of my blood within him than either of us realized.”

He took your arm again, pressing himself close into your side, keeping you near.

“… Truthfully I did not want Louis to ever know,” he confessed. “I can feel his adoration of you. He wishes only to protect you the way…”

He didn’t finish the thought, but you heard it as clearly as if you had your own telepathic abilities.

“I know I remind him of Claudia,” you responded. “And in his defense, you do have a habit of killing the women he cares about most.”

Lestat huffed out a soft laugh, jaded, guilty. Perhaps even remorseful.

“He was going to leave me no matter what,” he murmured. “I attempted to delay the inevitable and in so doing I destroyed us both. He does not want the same fate for you, but I cannot deny it, agneau; I want you badly.”

The admission chilled you, warmed you, sent currents through your core to your limbs to your head that made you dizzy. How exhilarating it was to be coveted by the man you desired most.

“I can’t be caged, Les,” you warned him despite the tender thrill of it all. “My willpower is much stronger than Louis’. I’ll only hurt you worse if you try to chain me up.”

“You make me want to be better, despite my propensity to… well, to not do that,” he replied. “Louis… his love for you, what happened between us… the value you know you have. You are a goddess to me. I lay myself at your feet and beg forgiveness. I will do everything to deserve it.”

“… Then you did mean it,” you noted after a beat. “When you said the other night that you want to be with me.”

“I always mean that when I say it,” Lestat replied. “I want forever with you if you will take it.”

“Forever is a big ask after one night together,” you relayed. “If we last… ten years together, I’ll consider it.”

Lestat chuckled, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

“Ten years is nothing to an immortal life,” he said. “I would wait hundreds if you asked.”

As you came up to the entrance of your hotel, your phone began to ring. You sighed, digging through your bag until you found the offending device and checking the caller ID, though you knew you wouldn’t need to. You sent Louis to voicemail, opening up your messaging app to text him instead.

I’m fine, you told him. Les and I are just talking through some stuff.

It didn’t even take a few seconds before his reply came through.

You’re calling him “Les” now?

You rolled your eyes, typing furiously, quickly, before setting your phone to silent and shoving it back into your bag.

I called him Daddy the other night. Would you prefer that?

Lestat laughed as he read over your shoulder, cradling your head in one of his hands and pulling you close to kiss your temple. He let his lips linger, his nose buried in your hair, the act so loving you felt yourself wanting to melt into him, into eternity and oblivion with him. You knew better than to give in so easily.

“I like the way you bite,” he confessed. “Feisty women used to irritate me, but I have come to appreciate them. I like the way you wear your spirit.”

Your expression softened as you looked in his eyes. You knew this change was because of Claudia, his guilt over the part he played in her death. You didn’t say as much, simply lacing your fingers with his and leading him through the sliding glass doors into the hotel lobby.

Daniel was waiting for you inside, leaned against one of the ugly chairs in the lounge by the reception desk, launching himself gracefully off it and striding towards you with purpose as you entered. You tried to remove your hand from Lestat’s, but he held firm.

“Louis’ about to get on a plane and use your severed head as a punching bag,” Daniel gruffed, looking at the fellow vampire. “Very vivid imagery I’m getting here.”

If you weren’t speaking to Louis, Daniel would be. He tried so hard to act detached but the truth was he cared just as deeply for Louis as he did for you. It was sweet, in a fucked up way. You tried not to remember the fact that Daniel was very disappointed about not fucking him, high off his ass, in a coffin when they first met in the 70s.

“Tell Louis I’m fine,” you told him. “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

“You’re mortal,” Daniel rebuffed, “you’re practically a lamb in a lion’s den. Armand erased my memory and took my own agency away from me for fifty fuckin’ years and you think this asshat won’t do the same or worse to you?”

“Well for one thing I’m not tweaked out on twenty different kinds of heroin and ecstasy so I’ve got that working in my favor.”

It was a low blow, and you regretted it the moment you said it. You shrank back at the hurt in Daniel’s eyes, but you could feel something involuntarily within him, like he knew he deserved it. He sighed, glowering at Lestat.

“Lie to me and I’ll find out and feed you your own testicles,” Daniel warned. “Did you compel her?”

“No.”

An answer without hesitation, firm, paired with a gentle squeeze of your hand. Daniel sized him up for a moment before backing down, but only slightly.

“Call Louis,” he said to you. “Or he’ll kill your little concubine here.”

You smirked a little as he gestured to Lestat, the tension between the two of you broken.

You gonna be okay? Need me to keep watch tonight?

A slight shake of your head and the issue was dropped. Daniel nodded, placing a hand on your shoulder as he passed you and gripping you tightly, a silent acknowledgement of his care. You watched as he slid out the hotel doors, no doubt off to hunt now that the night’s drama was subsided.

“To be loved by some of the worst people living in this or any era,” Lestat mused, lighthearted. “How does it feel?”

You laughed softly, wrapping your arm around his sinfully tiny waist and folding into his side.

“Exhausting,” you replied. “It’s like I’m living in an episode of Real Housewives, except instead of a bunch of middle aged gold diggers I’m surrounded by disaster gays who have all fucked each other at least once.”

“Daniel’s not my type. At least you’re safe from that.”

You held each other in the elevator up to your floor, the walk to your room silent in a comfortable way. Lestat paused at the threshold after you slid your key in, standing close but not crossing into the room. His eyes traced your features, gentle, reverent.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, barely a whisper.

You shook your head, your nose almost brushing his.

“It’ll only cause more problems if you’re here when I call Louis,” you regretfully explained. “I don’t want to drag up any of the bones that should stay buried.”

Lestat nodded, conceding despite how tense you could feel he was, every muscle contracted against the press of rejection, no matter how fleeting, how gentle. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, palms laid on his chest, holding the kiss firm until you needed to breathe. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you pulled away, stealing another kiss from your forehead.

“I will be listening if you need me, or want me,” he told you. “Bonne nuit… my sweetest love.”

You resisted parting from him as much as he did you. You wanted nothing more than to curl into your mattress like you did with him before, when your bodies were spent and still tangled in each other, his head on your chest and his hands tracing every curve they could reach. He was impossibly easy to submit to. It scared you. It thrilled you.

Louis answered your call after the first ring, going on a minutes-long tirade about the dangers of being alone with Lestat the moment he picked up. You laid back on the pillows on the bed and just listened, letting him release his rage to make way for more civilized conversation.

“You remember we already had sex, right?” you drawled once he quieted. “And that I’m neither dead nor undead and he has in fact called me.”

“That isn’t my point,” Louis snapped.

“Lou, please,” you begged, exasperated, exhausted. “I don’t want to fight. If you’re upset with me for sleeping with Lestat because he’s your ex and that’s a shitty thing for a friend to do, I can accept that. I’ll walk away from him forever if that’s the reason you’re doing all of this because the last thing I want is to hurt you. But if it’s still about what happened between you two, with Claudia, I don’t want to be dragged into that. That’s for the two of you to resent each other over for eternity. The Lestat I know has grown from that and I want to give him the chance to show me as much.”

Louis was silent for several moments, no doubt considering the very uncomfortable truth that he actually didn’t care what you did with Lestat so long as the man treated you well. He was likely pacing, prowling back and forth along the pit of his living room, shoulders tense and teeth slightly bared. You simply waited, allowing him to work it through and come to you with his own conclusion.

“You’re sure he didn’t compel you?” Louis asked after ages, his voice resigned.

“You and I both know Lestat only wants a lover who’s willing. He’s an asshole but he’s not that big of an asshole that he’d rape someone.”

“… Yeah, unfortunately he does have a heart somewhere inside him,” Louis surrendered. “He likes it when people doubt he does but he does have one.”

“Nobody doubts he does,” you said with a slight smile. “He’s very bad at keeping it hidden.”

Louis chuckled softly, and you could practically feel the weight lifting from his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he told you. “I just can’t see another person I love get hurt by what’s between Lestat and me.”

“You won’t,” you promised. “If he does anything even a little bit out of line he’ll have hell to pay from all of us. And honestly I think he’s just… tired. Tired of the pain of it all. You hurt him too, you know.”

“I know,” Louis murmured. “I also know that if anyone’s got enough love and strength in their heart to handle him, it’s you. You’re good at dealing with toxic men.”

“I know,” you deadpanned. “It’s literally the only thing I ever do.”

Louis laughed, genuinely laughed, the sound rolling from his stomach and into the atmosphere, cracking your heart wide open. You didn’t hear him laugh nearly enough, and he deserved to.

“I miss you,” he confessed, mirroring your own emotions. “Come to Dubai when you and Daniel are done blowing smoke up Lestat’s ass. We can drink coffee and do yoga and catch up on all the trash TV we missed watching together because of the time zones.”

You smiled, wishing he were in the room so you could pull him into your arms. There was nothing better than to hold him, to know you were loved for yourself and nothing else; no ulterior motives, just affection between two souls.

“I’ll be there,” you replied. “I’m gonna need a fucking vacation after this anyway.”

Another laugh, refreshing and reviving as the first birdsong in spring. You would never not be thankful for these men, you realized, surrounded not only by their problems but by their love in all its varying forms. It was humbling.

“I love you, Louis,” you said, not thinking, just feeling.

“I love you, too,” he echoed. “You should get some sleep.”

“I should,” you conceded with a sigh. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Let you know if Lestat’s back on his old bullshit.”

“He won’t be,” Louis stated, quiet, firm. “He knows what good he has with you.”

Your chest tightened, fluttered. There was no way you could be as good as that, but you would always allow Louis to let you believe it.

“Goodnight, Lou.”

“Goodnight, lamb.”

You stood and tossed your phone on the bed, sighing heavily, rolling your shoulders to release some of the tightness in them. Your head felt light in a good way, clear like coming out of a bad migraine. You crossed the room to the balcony doors and slid them open, stepping into the night and just allowing yourself to breathe.

“Is he over his little tempter tantrum?”

Lestat was there waiting for you, perched on the railing like a stray cat, his eyes just as bright as he watched you come toward him. You laughed, shaking your head, but moving no more hesitantly into his open arms.

“You’re ridiculous,” you chided. “Please don’t make this a habit.”

Lestat grinned, showing his teeth, hooking his arms low on your waist and letting you lean on him as he stole a peck from your lips.

“Take me as I am, cherie,” he playfully begged. “When I love, I love viciously, and for always.”

You held his face in your hands, your thumbs smoothing over the high points of his sharp cheeks, watching the way his lashes drooped with longing as he looked back at you. He still had a lot of proving himself to do, but you would hold him close to your heart until he earned the key to it.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered. “No sex. Just hold me while I sleep.”

“I will always,” he breathed. “As long as you want me, I am yours.”

You took Lestat’s hand and led him inside, shutting the doors and the world along with them. You slept cradled on his chest that night, his eyes glowing in the darkness of your room as he watched the hours creep on into blushing dawn through the cracks in the tightly drawn curtains. Your soft snores were like gentle melodies to him, every little imperfection a gift, a new beauty for him to unravel and cherish. When you finally woke and were quietly surprised to find him still at your side, he ached, his love for you solidifying itself in his long dead heart in that very moment. Daniel and Louis thought themselves your protectors, but he would maim himself, stand in open sunlight, drive the stake through his own chest if it meant ensuring your safety, your trust in him.