#vc fic

So please check-out Nalyra's beautiful fic "Angel of Life and Death" and Alby's stunning artwork that accompanied it.

I had fun with this!

Also the companion fic is my Lestat's lawyer, Roget-centric fic.

Chapters: 36/36 Fandom: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022), Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac, Armand/Daniel Molloy Characters: Lestat de Lioncourt, Louis de Pointe du Lac, Daniel Molloy, Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Raglan James, Aaron Lightner, Seth (Vampire Chronicles), Fareed Bhansali, Original Characters, Marius de Romanus, Ciprien Grieve Additional Tags: Post-Episode: s02e08 And That's The End of It. There's Nothing Else (Interview with the Vampire TV), Post Current Canon, POV Louis de Pointe du Lac, I'm going to tag this, Slow Burn, even though these are established, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, dark themes, relearning each other, Getting to know oneself, Finding the truth, Canon-Typical Violence, Vampire Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood Drinking, there is a lot of crying as is canon, and a lot of talking, Reunions, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Filling out the gaps, Healing, Arguing Summary:

As the dust settles, Louis tries to find back to life - maybe to find Lestat, definitely to find himself. As with all things, this is easier said than done though, their relationship has not been likened to a hurricane for nothing after all, and the devil is definitely in the details.

Final chapter is up!! This is what we need    

They look at each other, for a long moment, and then Louis clears his throat, slowly putting the book back up, pretending to read. It’s an interesting one, this, the book that was made into a movie a while back. ‘Annihilation’.

He carefully puts a bit of tease into the words, while shoving the dread into a neat little box. With a bow. “So is your distraction worth the while?”

He can feel Lestat chuckle silently, and then a hand pushes in, under his crotch, up against his perineum through the cloth, rubbing softly.

He cannot help it, he undulates, cursing softly.

Lestat’s teeth flash, his voice carrying a rumble. “I would say so?”

Louis shoots him a look, over the top of the page that he is quite uninterested in by now.

He clicks his tongue, making his voice very much aloof. “You know what we talked about the other night?”

Lestat’s eyes flash, his hand stilling. “Yes?”

Louis licks his lips, still staring over the edge of the book at Lestat. “Well, you know, I was thinking…”

Lestat’s face transforms with an anticipatory leer. “Oh?”

Louis refuses to blush. And he refuses to hit Lestat with the book. “Yeah, so I have this thing in mind…” He pauses, his throat suddenly dry. It’s not a matter of shame, they’ve done… worse, so to say, more a matter of knowing that if he voices it… then Lestat will indulge him.

Chapters: 35/36 Fandom: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022), Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac, Armand/Daniel Molloy Characters: Lestat de Lioncourt, Louis de Pointe du Lac, Daniel Molloy, Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Raglan James, Aaron Lightner, Seth (Vampire Chronicles), Fareed Bhansali, Original Characters, Marius de Romanus, Ciprien Grieve Additional Tags: Post-Episode: s02e08 And That's The End of It. There's Nothing Else (Interview with the Vampire TV), Post Current Canon, POV Louis de Pointe du Lac, I'm going to tag this, Slow Burn, even though these are established, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, dark themes, relearning each other, Getting to know oneself, Finding the truth, Canon-Typical Violence, Vampire Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood Drinking, there is a lot of crying as is canon, and a lot of talking, Reunions, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Filling out the gaps, Healing, Arguing Summary:

As the dust settles, Louis tries to find back to life - maybe to find Lestat, definitely to find himself. As with all things, this is easier said than done though, their relationship has not been likened to a hurricane for nothing after all, and the devil is definitely in the details.

Chapter 35 is up: We might find out

Lestat is lying next to him, prone on his stomach, eyes slits only, hair disheveled, and Louis giggles suddenly, reaching over to push a strand of hair away, feeling smug as hell, and very, very amused. “Did I wear you out?”

A blonde eyebrow quirks and Lestat opens his mouth, but his eyes drift shut, and Louis giggles again, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of Lestat’s left eye, breathing the words against the still damp skin there. “Thank you for indulging me.”

He can hear the click of the swallow, Lestat’s voice a raspy version of his usual one, sounding still breathless. “Anytime.” Another swallow, and then his voice again, a bit firmer, already a lot stronger. “I really love it when you know and just ask for what you want, mon cher.”

Louis hums, reaching out to trail a finger down Lestat’s spine. “Wasn’t really asking though.”

Lestat grins, just a bit. “You know what I mean.” They share a look, and Louis basks in the feeling of this being right, and totally without shame.

Lestat licks his lips, his voice a bit deadpan. “If I were mortal I think I wouldn’t be able to sit for a week after this.”

Louis snorts, and then giggles again, while his fingers trail down, to touch the mess, and then glide in, for just a moment, drawing a hiss from them both. His cock twitches rather lazily.

He clicks his tongue. “Good thing we’re not mortal then.”

Lestat hums, the blue in his slitted eyes a lot clearer already, with fire again. “I wonder if there is a version of viagra for us.”

Louis blinks, and then bites his lips, his eyes traveling to where his fingers just were. “Think you could take a whole night of this?”

inspired by this amazing art by @hallowedhaunting + submitted for #vckinkfest: collared “Hey-“

Daniel hurries to follow Armand, sweat dripping from the back of his neck and leaving his shirt damp between his shoulder blades. Turns a dark corner and finds himself near blinded on 42nd Street.

The deuce is a riot of neon lights, still packed even at three in the morning. The peep shows and porno theaters never rest. He’d taken advantage of those, once, when he was running from Armand. He’d fallen asleep in the middle of a scene of some guy beating off and woken up to a dead boy sitting beside him, staring at him so cold and unnervingly he’d shouted and scared the other guys in the theater, and gotten both of them kicked out.

Daniel loses track of Armand dipping in and out of the crowd, but only for a second. Just enough time to catch up with him at the corner and hook a finger in his belt loop to keep him from jaywalking and disappearing across the street.

“Jesus, slow down, would you? If I lose track of the house and you I’m gonna end up sleeping on the damn street,” Daniel says. He jerks at Armand’s belt loop, trying to get his attention. “Hey. Earth to Armand, hello?”

He’s got a flier in his hand, too busy staring at it to pay attention. Some place called the Vault. The ad says it’s relocated, and there’s probably an address on it but it’s covered by Armand’s thumb. In the neon light his bone white skin glows; first warm gold, and then, when the lights change, shocking red.

“What is an S&M club?” Armand asks.

Daniel’s cigarette is burnt down to the butt. He tosses it over the rail, draws another from the pack and lights it. “So why’d you bring me here to a hotel and not straight to another apartment, if we’re going to be sticking around for a while waiting on the house to be done?” he asks.

Because intimacy between them has always come in fits and starts, and Armand can never pin down how it happens. Whether Daniel withdraws because of the inertia of their existence, or whether the thing that brought them together in the first place, immortality, is driving a slow wedge between them. If malingering in this hotel with its wealth of services and comforts for the incalculable weeks until the Villa is built will help or hinder.

It doesn’t matter, really. Just more things that he can’t say.

Armand turns his back to Daniel once again. He rests his folded arms back on the balcony rail, tucks his chin atop them and hides his pursed lips.

From this angle he can just peek over his own elbow, look through the curtain of his lashes and see Daniel ashing his cigarette. His fingers are so long. The light at the sliding glass door casts shadows on the backs of his hands and makes his tendons stand out like bridges connecting his knuckles to his wrist.

The buzz beneath his skin has shifted. Turned into a dull ache, and he can’t stop thinking about how he’d rather sink his teeth into the tender spots on the back of Daniel’s hand than answer his question. 

It’s just that Daniel asked it so earnestly. Sometimes Armand wonders if the little sips of his blood over the years haven’t given him some odd, watered down form of his powers, not strong enough to know the contents of his thoughts but just enough to catch the sensation of them. If maybe Daniel doesn’t use them to his advantage in times like this.

“The hotel brochure said this is what modern couples do," Armand admits, against his better judgment, and rattles off the quote. "Come and feel sparks fly in the suites at our one of a kind adults only resort.”

Daniel arches his brow. “Since when do you care about the things normal couples do?”

Since the foothills of Mt. Vesuvius. Since that night in Ginza when he felt the gulf between them growing from a river into a sea.

Armand ignores his question, blinks slowly like a cat. If he lets his gaze unfocus and he’ll see Daniel as Daniel sees him, soft around the edges, blurred like a half-formed painting. Something not human, but not yet monstrous, caught in the in between.

“Do you still wish to know why I prefer humid places?” Armand asks, changes the subject and doesn’t wait for Daniel’s nod. He already knows the answer is yes. Because when the air clings the feeling isn’t unlike that of lying beneath you when you’re rutting on me like an animal.