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“A midnight walk along the lake, mon cher? How romantic.”
Lestat looks around the place, taking in the gorgeous scenery. Louis has brought him to a small lake just outside town, nestled between a constellation of luscious trees and wild grass. It’s a warm and quiet night, the wind lying dormant and the choir of cicadas about to begin their nocturnal overture. The surface of the water is so calm that it reflects the starry sky above.
Louis didn’t tell Lestat anything except that he was taking him out on a date. He drove out of town without divulging a thing and then led Lestat down a winding path through majestic moss-covered trees towards the hidden spot.
“Not quite,” he corrects, mischief tugging at the corner of his lips. “C’mere.”
He leads Lestat by the hand to the pier where a dozen small boats are docked.
“I want you to pick one of these,” Louis says, pointing at the selection of fish boats, canoes and other kinds of vessels.
Lestat’s face dissolves into a grin as he finally catches on to what Louis has prepared for them.
“And we’re going to take it on a joyride?” he guesses with a grin.
“Exactly.”
The lake is far enough away from the centre of New Orleans that most temporary residents or passers-by don’t know of its existence. It’s almost like a little secret known only to the locals. Louis grew up in the area which means he’s spent countless summers of his youth on the lake, soaking up both the southern sun and the crystal clear water.
It was the teenage nostalgia in which he found inspiration for his outing with Lestat. There’s something incredibly exhilarating about sneaking out while the rest of the world is asleep and stealing some rich alderman’s boat to go on a reckless voyage to the lake. They could pretend to be teenagers again, full of life and free of worries.
Louis can tell by the way Lestat’s eyes light up that he’s very fond of the idea.
“How delinquent of us,” Lestat chides, shaking his head. There is excitement to his step as he inspects the boats. “You’re a terrible influence, Louis.”
The heartfelt way he says it makes Louis burst into a chuckle.
Lestat stops in front of one of the boats, having made his choice. “I like this one.”
Louis is surprised, to say the least. Knowing Lestat’s extravagant taste, Louis would’ve thought he’d pick one of the luxurious-looking sailboats or catamarans. However, Lestat’s vessel of choice is the complete opposite. It’s a simple wooden rowboat that’s small enough to fit just the two of them and nothing else. It seems like an unusual choice at first, but then Louis understands the reasoning behind it.
Tonight is about them. Just the two of them. No room for anything else. There is no need for fancy details or decorations when they have each other.
Lestat knows just the way to make Louis’ heart flutter.
It takes no time to untie the boat from its moorings, and soon they are gliding through the water and slowly leaving the shore behind. There isn’t a single cloud in the sky or a single worry in Louis’ head.
“Can’t you just -” he says, biceps flexing with effort as he uses the oars to propel the boat forward, “- do some vampire magic to make this boat move on its own?”
Lestat’s smile has a hint of amusement to it, shining brighter than the moon itself.
“And deprive myself of the exquisite sight that is your arms at work? No, cher, it doesn’t work like that.”
“Stop it,” Louis huffs, a soft pink tint creeping onto his cheeks.
Both of them know he didn’t mean a single syllable of it.
Is this what true happiness looks like? It’s been almost a year since Louis’ rebirth as a vampire - plenty of time to get used to this new kind of existence. And yet, some days it still feels like a dream; something that’s too good to be true. It’s as if Lestat and the entire supernatural world was just something Louis’ mind created in order to escape the grim abyss of his real life.
“Something on your mind, St. Louis?”
Louis blinks, orienting back to the present.
“No, it’s just…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence and instead cups his lover’s face with both hands and kisses him like there’s no tomorrow. Moonlight filters through Lestat’s beautiful hair, making it look like a glowing halo.
Louis’ personal saint, turning the sins of his old self into the afterlife of absolution.
Just as he thought he couldn’t be any more in love with Lestat than he already is, he finds himself falling further and further.
It takes less time to reach the middle of the lake than Louis remembers. Time works differently whenever he’s with Lestat. Hours seem to pass in an eyeblink while other moments stretch out infinitely. Once the boat comes to a stop, they stow the oars away. Without them in the way, Lestat is able to move even closer. Impossibly closer, until their knees are touching and foreheads resting against each other.
“I used to come here a lot as a kid,” Louis tells him. “Stone skipping, fishing, swimming…”
Lestat hums, something lighting up in his eyes at the last word. Louis opens his mouth but the question never leaves his lips because that same second Lestat is on him, hands cupping Louis’ cheeks and kissing him in a way that makes Louis’ mind draw a blank. He scoots closer in the already impossibly small space, chasing more of the contact; slotting their legs between each other and pressing their chests together. The way in which Lestat pulls him in — mind, body, heart and soul — can only be described as pure magic.
The thing with Lestat is that he has a way about him.
A way that never fails to sweep Louis off his feet.
A way that makes everything else fall away and only the two of them remain.
A way that has Louis convinced that Lestat is the master of gravity itself, making the whole world tilt with a mere snap of his fingers.
When Lestat presses their lips together, the horizon swings back and forth like a kaleidoscope, the stars blinking in and out of focus. Louis holds onto Lestat tighter, not for the fear of the dizzying feeling but for the simple and carnal need to be closer.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Louis is vaguely aware of the boat swaying from side to side and little splashes of water landing on his shirt. It’s only when the sky becomes the lake and the lake becomes the sky does he realise that the feeling of being turned upside down isn’t just metaphorical.
The boat flips on its side with a loud splash, throwing them both into the water.
Immediately, Louis’ senses are overwhelmed by the cold and dark abyss engulfing him. It’s everywhere; entering his mouth and nose and soaking through every fibre of his clothing. He resurfaces, coughing and blinking water out of his eyes.
He looks around and finds Lestat in the exact same predicament, floating just above the surface and trying to brush his wet hair out of his face. Somehow despite being completely drenched, Lestat still looks unbelievably attractive. Some things are just unfair, but Louis can’t bring himself to complain.
“Oh, the things you do to me, Louis,” Lestat laments with a wide grin and swims closer to him. “You made me lose my balance.”
“Likewise.”
Louis can’t help but giggle at their shared clumsiness. It’s reassuring to know that Lestat feels just as enchanted by him as he feels by Lestat.
They climb back into the boat, graceless and soaking wet. Louis deliberately wore his nicest and best-fitting outfit tonight to look as good as possible for his lover, but now the clothes are hanging heavy and shapeless on his frame.
“Our clothes are a mess, what a shame,” Lestat complains, though he doesn’t seem to be too bothered by the fact. “They’re no use to us now.”
He makes quick work of unbuttoning his fitted brown vest and white shirt and shrugging them off. Louis watches the garments fall to the floor of the boat in one big wet heap. Louis’ shirt is the next to go, courtesy of Lestat’s dexterous fingers. As Lestat successfully undresses his top half, Louis catches a hint of smug satisfaction in his companion’s eyes.
The full realisation of what this means hits him a second later.
“Asshole!” Louis shouts, lightly shoving Lestat’s chest with his hands. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
The last words are more of a statement than a question. There is no doubt in Louis’ mind now that falling into the water was all part of Lestat’s very deliberate plan of ridding them of their clothes.
Lestat gives a cryptic hum and leans in, their bare chests touching. His lips find their way to Louis’ ear, licking along the shape of it and gently teething on the lobe.
“If I did, mon coeur…” he whispers, the feeling of his mouth on Louis’ skin tasting like pure seduction, “…would you be disappointed?”
He punctuates his words by planting kisses along the side of Louis’ neck. Louis tilts his jaw up to give him more access and his mouth speaks as if of its own accord:
“No.”
Lestat pulls back just enough for the other man to see his self-satisfied grin widen.
“Excellent.”
Lestat is the absolute worst, but he is also the best at being the worst. Louis wouldn’t change a thing about him.
The slight breeze feels refreshing on his damp skin. It’s indeed better than wearing a soaked shirt, and the fact that he can press up against Lestat’s naked chest is a lovely bonus. There is no one around to interrupt. It’s just Louis and the love of his life entangled in each other, kissing the night away with the stars as their only witness.
Lestat’s hands never stay still, stroking down Louis’ back and flanks and eventually ending up at the closure of his pants. Soon the buttons have been popped open and that devious hand has curled around the bulge in Louis’ briefs.
“Right here?” Louis asks, incredulous.
Knowing Lestat, this is exactly the kind of mischief he should’ve expected.
“Why not?” Lestat purrs, lips against Louis’ throat. “There’s not a soul out here. Just you and me under the stars.”
Christ, Lestat.
Louis bites his lip, eyes scanning their surroundings. Lestat is right; there is no one but them at the lake, and Louis can’t pick up any sounds of human movement for miles. The walls of the boat are quite high. If they laid down on the floor, they would be mostly hidden from view…
The fact that Louis is seriously considering this is bizarre. Utterly scandalous. And at the same time it makes his heartbeat quicken with excitement.
Louis wouldn’t have done half the wicked, ungodly things he’s done in his life if it wasn’t for Lestat’s influence. He supposes making love on a tiny rowboat in the middle of the lake is just another drop in the ocean of said ungodly things.
He gives Lestat a smile. “Alright.”
The single word is all the permission Lestat needs to resume the movements of his hand on Louis’ cock. The initial tentativeness has been replaced with an urgent need to touch Louis everywhere and feed the pleasure they’re both dying to feel. It doesn’t take long for them both to discard their slacks and underwear, and Louis soon finds himself flat on his back on the boat floor with Lestat on top of him.
The next kiss is initiated by both of them equally, as if they’re being pulled in by a magnetic force. They mirror one another perfectly in movements, mouths interlocked and hands reaching between each other’s legs. It’s as if they’re being controlled by one entity, that which goes by the name of lust and desire.
Louis’ plan of a quiet night on the lake is quickly shaping up to take a more adventurous turn than just holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes, thanks to Lestat’s desire to make love to him every second of every day. In all honesty, Louis doesn’t mind.
Lestat is temptation. He is sin. He’s the devil himself.
And this devil, with his flawless face, golden hair and iridescent eyes, is the most loving and gentle entity Louis has encountered. A stark contrast to the strict and fear-evoking God he spent decades of his mortal life serving.
Louis has always known that he’s going to hell, but what he didn’t know is that damnation would feel so good.
He tilts his head back, entire body shivering as he feels Lestat’s lips plant kisses from his stomach to his hip. When Lestat takes him into his mouth it feels like the sky above them is going to erupt into a million stars. A supernova of sensation confined into the non-existent space between their bodies, coiled so tight that it makes his nerve endings tingle.
And if that wasn’t already too much, Lestat decides to dial up the heat. His fingers prod at Louis’ entrance, tenderly pressing inside his pliant body. Louis feels like a black hole, a creature of endless hunger, consuming everything that Lestat has to offer.
“You’re going to kill me,” Louis moans, a barely audible exhale in the night.
Somewhere below his navel, Lestat chuckles.
“No, Louis. I’m going to make you feel alive.”
If being alive means having Lestat all to himself, if it means being pleasured by Lestat’s hands like this every day, if it means gazing into those impossibly-blue eyes and finding boundless love in them, then Louis wants to stay alive forever.
They say patience is a virtue, but right now it feels like torture. Lestat is giving him so much - a hand on Louis’ cock while the other hand coaxes him open - and yet he is withholding what Louis wants the most.
“Lestat, please.”
It’s not a plea, it’s an order. Louis wouldn’t be half the man he is today if he chose to sit back and wait instead of actively pursuing what he wants. He wraps his fingers around Lestat’s cock with an assertive squeeze.
Now.
And in that moment, Lestat is not a saint nor a sinner. Not mortal nor undead. He is simply a man under the spell of his lover, a dedicated worshipper of the church of Louis’ heart.
He could never deny Louis a thing.
When Lestat finally enters him it feels like an ascension. Louis feels like that black hole again, engulfing Lestat’s flesh and accepting it as part of himself. There is no more Louis and no more Lestat; they’re a constellation of atoms floating in the ether, arranging themselves into all possible combinations of lust and passion.
The entire boat rocks with the power of Lestat’s thrusts, and Louis can feel splashes of water landing on him. Their lovemaking is so profound it makes the lake shift out of its orbits and rain on them like holy water. Louis clings to the other man in search for more closeness, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and legs bracketing his waist.
Are they blessed or are they cursed? Louis doesn’t care, as long as they’re together.
When Louis comes it’s like the death of the universe and the beginning of a new one. A wave of blinding hot forever-expanding bliss, wiping everything in its way. Lestat holds him through it, giving kisses to every bit of Louis’ skin that he can get his mouth on. His peak is approaching just as quickly, judging by the way his hips stutter. Louis cards his fingers though Lestat’s hair and presses his head to his chest, right above his heart, as Lestat fills him up.
They lie like that wrapped in each other for a little while. Lestat’s head on Louis’ chest. Louis’ fingers in Lestat’s hair. Heart to heart. Soul to soul.
Louis feels like the luckiest man in the entire universe.
“The sky is beautiful, look,” he tells the other man, gently nudging him to turn around.
“I prefer the view down here,” Lestat responds in a reverent hum. With the way his head is angled, Louis’ face is the only thing he can see.
Louis rolls his eyes and smiles. Lestat doesn’t need to say ridiculously romantic things like that - he already has Louis’ heart - but he chooses to anyway.
Eventually he untangles himself from the other man just enough for Louis to scoot to the side so they can both lie on their backs and look up at the sky. It’s serene and quiet, the buzz of cicadas and the occasional splashing of water against the hull of the boat providing the perfect soundtrack to the night.
“You’re right, it is beautiful,” Lestat says with a content sigh.
Louis just smiles and leans his cheek on Lestat’s shoulder.
The stars in the sky twinkle in time with their synchronised heartbeats. Louis is Lestat’s, and Lestat is his. The night is perfect, the way it should be.