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Louis and Armand stood in the rain before a seemingly ancient tower, vines crawling up its crumbling sides. The foundation of the thing seemed sturdy enough, and it had survived a German bombing, so Armand told Louis, but its stonework facade was loose in its mortar, and moss had filled in many emptied areas, leaving it a verdant cylinder. The attached building had all but imploded on itself, only the very bones of wall and roof remaining over a pile of rubble.
Armand had explained that this had been a haven of his for hundreds of years. The manor was consistently inhabited by the same lineage over those many years, and he had become somewhat of a legend through the generations, the ghost in the old tower that no one dared to enter. He would listen sometimes to their earthly woes and wonders that came about at night, or would indeed just enjoy some silence while the family slept, as the manor was tucked away on a moderately forested acreage on the outskirts of the city. Before Paris was overtaken, as German soldiers marched ever forward towards its streets, the last of the family had fled the manor, which was already in a state of disrepair. They were never to return after the stray shell came bursting down upon the main portion of the house. Little did they know that the frightening tower remained, and the lonely ghost therein — Armand had never stopped his visits.
“I can’t fly, Armand,” Louis gently protested. They would have to stay at the base of the tower, which was less inviting than the evening in a secret, high-away room that Armand had proposed. He had met Armand unexpectedly earlier that evening, and they were halfway to the tower when Armand explained where they were even headed. Louis did not have time to pass on the excursion, but supposed he would not have passed it up even if that had been an option. He had not seen Armand in several weeks, and was at once calmed by his ever-mysterious presence.
Armand said nothing at first, merely strolled up to the tower wall and, sure-footed despite many loosened stones, mounted the wall as if to climb it.
“You’re not serious,” Louis scoffed.
“You can climb quite easily, Louis,” Armand replied coolly, “and even if you were to fall, I need not remind you that you would not be gravely injured.”
Louis furrowed his brow and looked up to the top window of the tower. He thought suddenly of Count Dracula, frightening poor young Jonathan Harker by crawling around the outer walls of his castle. It was an almost comical thought. Eternal and damned life, living off of the blood of the living, threatened only by the sun — and scaling buildings like a lizard. He questioned the cohesion of this so-called “dark gift,” but nevertheless followed Armand to the tower wall.
“Follow my footings exactly,” Armand warned. “Neither of us will die if we fall, but it won’t be pleasant.”
Louis nodded and did as Armand said, following with his hands where Armand stuck his boot, creeping slowly up the side of the tower. He was struck by the realization of just how infrequently he took advantage of his heightened strength aside from the kill. Scaling the tower was only a challenge of strategy, which Armand had taken care of, having long ago memorized a safe and efficient route upwards that functioned even in the pouring rain.
At last, they were at the gaping window of the tower, the bulk of its glass scattered directly underneath, upon the ancient, warped floor of the room. The round room was in an understandable state of disrepair, largely furnished with broken chairs and desks from times long past. A few books were scattered around the place, and Louis imagined for a moment Armand perched upon the window-sill, reading by the moonlight, like some prince tucked away in his high tower. On the far side of the room was an imposing fireplace with what looked like fresh ashes inside. Armand had been here recently.
In front of the hearth was the only somewhat modern comfort of the room: a beautiful Moroccan-style rug, a shocking contrast of vibrant color among the dank grays and browns of the otherwise filthy, molding room.
Louis stepped into the room, aware of how heavily he set his feet down as he moved about, though the floor felt remarkably sound. Armand wasted no time, dashing about to dismantle bits of cracked furniture for kindling. Within no time, there was a roaring blaze in the fireplace, and Armand stood stiffly in the center of the room, staring Louis down.
“The fire and rug make this place almost cozy,” Louis said after a moment, for want of anything else to say. Small talk it would have to be, he thought.
“I want you more than anything in the world,” Armand blurted out. His statement was resolute, but his voice nevertheless wavered with emotion at the gravitas of his admission. Imagine that, Louis thought, a vampire five centuries old getting nervous while doing something so terribly human as confessing his feelings. But he had to admit to himself that he too the pang of nerves, no matter how pedestrian it seemed for an immortal.
Louis didn’t know how to respond. Instead, he cast his eyes momentarily to the fire, then back to Armand, who had not moved a part of his body a single inch. He was like an angelic statue, completely still, gaze never faltering, the very picture of beauty, with something uncanny underneath.
“I said that I want you,” Armand repeated, voice less nervous this time. “More than anything else in this world.”
Louis appreciated the repetition, which typically would annoy him. In this instance, it made him realize he had not been imagining Armand’s words.
“Armand,” he murmured at last.
“Louis.”
“Kiss me.”
Armand closed his eyes with a smile, nodded, and obliged. He brought a lovely hand to cup Louis’ cheek, warm from sitting beside the fire, and moved in slowly, kissing Louis gently once, twice, a third time. He was slow and purposeful, sweet like the ripest fruit. Try as he did, Louis could not help but compare in his mind this kiss to his first with Lestat. That had been messy, ravenous, full of teeth and tongues and movement. With Armand, it was equally hungry, but in a much more deliberate way. He likened it to savoring a long-expected and expertly-prepared meal for hours upon hours, whereas his first kiss with Lestat has been akin to a starving man stumbling upon an unattended bushel of food.
There had been build-up in both instances, of course. But with Armand, Louis was finally inhibited only by the shy chase that is seduction, not the shame that had long plagued him regarding his sexuality. That was all but destroyed by the time he made the choice to kiss Lestat in front of the cream of New Orleans’ high society. It felt like eons ago to him. Regardless, in both cases, Louis knew what path he was on, where the enticing game was leading him, but it was only with Armand that he knew he would not dig his heels into the ground and refuse to be dragged any further.
In Paris, there were no connections other than the ones he chose to make. There were no family members prying into his business, no business partners passing around talk of who he may or may not love, no lovers lurking in the bayou to watch his every move. He thought the lack of connections might make him feel painfully lonely, but in fact it made him feel blissfully free. He only realized once within the arms of Europe how accustomed he had gotten to burning bridges. And now, far away from it all, the fires he had lit were no longer destructive, but life-giving.
In short, he was emancipated from any emotional responsibility but his own. Claudia was more content perhaps than she had ever been in life, certainly in a happier and more satisfied state than Louis had ever overseen. He still felt answerable to how she felt, but no longer considered himself the fulcrum of her emotional condition. It was a struggle, but he was growing to see her as the individual she was, and not merely an extension of himself. That she was, on most days, wholly pleased with her lot in life meant that Louis could focus more on his own state, his journey towards healing the emotional scars that long surpassed physical ones, his everlasting capacity to love.
There was much to be done. Paris was a balm upon his scorched heart and mind; it could soothe the wounds, possibly expedite some his necessary rehabilitation, but scars — perhaps miniscule, perhaps notable — would nevertheless remain. He desired something that would, at the pace of his choosing, compound his healing. He desired Armand. And now he had him.
“If you desired this, why did you not come to see me? You could have had me anytime you wanted, Louis. I am yours,” Armand said between kisses. Louis only shook his head and laughed in spite of himself.
“I can never tell what I feel,” Louis replied against Armand’s lips. “My thoughts are probably clearer to you than they are to me.”
It was Armand’s turn now to laugh, a bright, jovial laugh. “You don’t begin to know what a mystery you are, Louis — a precious, beautiful mystery!”
Louis hummed and kissed him once more. He brought his hands first to Armand’s waist, the linen of his shirt impossibly soft under his touch, the flesh between Armand’s waist and hipbones warm and enticing. His palms wandered then from the small of Armand’s back up to his shoulder blades and down again, settling at last on the strong expanse of his mid-back. When Armand shivered at the contact, Louis gently jolted in turn, deepening the kiss and enjoying greatly the feeling of Armand’s arms tight around his shoulders.
Louis pulled away just slightly, slowly, sweetly, and rested his forehead against Armand’s, breathing in his scent. He smelled like the rain they had traipsed through, like the earthy musk of the chamber beneath the theater, like the most intoxicating blend of blood and man that Louis had ever smelled.
“What are you thinking of now?” Armand asked with a smile, looking at Louis through his impossibly luscious eyelashes. “What do you feel?”
Louis laughed again, moving his head back just a bit more to be able to see Armand’s entire face.
“Can’t you hear it for yourself?” he teased with a sly grin.
“I try not to make it a habit of entering the minds of my lovers, at least not while embracing them,” Armand admitted. “It leaves no…”
“Spontaneity?”
“Precisely.”
Louis grinned again, thinking for a moment. Then swiftly, he swept Armand into his arms and carried him from where they stood in the window’s alcove to the fireside. The rug — clearly a rather recent addition of Armand’s, as it was in better condition than any of the room’s molding furniture — was laid out perfectly at the foot of the mantle, as if asking for two lovers to lay beside the warm hearth. Louis set Armand down and joined him, body turned completely in his direction, propping his weight up on one hand and letting the other rest on top of Armand’s.
“How’s that for spontaneous?” Louis asked, heart racing. It had been years since he allowed himself to be such a shameless flirt. It thrilled him.
“Exactly the kind of surprise I’d miss if I was peering into your mind all the time.” Armand turned his hand underneath Louis’, extending his fingers to run the pads over the skin at Louis’ wrist with featherlight pressure. Despite being a bloodsucker, Louis felt in that moment as if he had never been more aware of his own pulse as it beat against Armand’s fingers.
Louis captured Armand’s mouth in a kiss that ended much too quickly for his liking. Armand had tenderly pushed him back.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” he said cheekily, batting his eyelashes once more. “What are you thinking of?”
“You really want to know?” Louis said, cocking a teasing eyebrow.
“I really want to know,” Armand replied resolutely, straightening his posture but betraying his own sincerity by allowing his gaze to wander over Louis’ lips. “Without looking into your mind myself.”
“Alright, since you asked so nicely,” Louis said, “right now I’m thinking about your eyes. Never seen anything like them.”
The corners of Armand’s mouth twitched upwards. “Is that so?”
“It is so,” Louis confirmed. “They were the first thing I noticed about you. First thing that made me realize we were alike.” He brushed a piece of hair away from Armand’s face so he could see the entirety of his right eye. “They’re like the sun, the sun right as it’s going down at night. Burning as bright as it can before it’s gone, only burning the same way when it comes up again at dawn.”
Armand reached a hand up and stroked Louis’ cheek with the back of his forefinger. “Your poetic mind is admirable. I should find you work at the théâtre, writing our soliloquies.”
Louis paused. As jovially as he could muster, he said, “Are you making fun of me?”
Armand’s expression grew deeply serious. “I would never mock you, Louis, nor your talents. Is it so surprising that I would want you close to me? That I would want to project to the masses the thoughts in your mind?”
Louis let out a shaking breath and brought his lips together in a closed smile. “I don’t think I’m cut out for a writer’s life,” he confessed. “I’m more of a speak-my-words-as-they-come type.”
“Then I’ll have to find some other way to convince you to come to me,” Armand said. Innocently he gazed at Louis, his eyes glowing more than ever in the firelight. If Armand was listening to Louis’ thoughts, he would know what his words were doing to Louis. Another way to convince him? As if Louis did not follow him here to a desolate tower, as if he did not fall into Armand’s arms, as if they were not now draped around each other in front of a roaring fire.
And, oh, the way the light dappled Armand’s entire face -- it made Louis nearly melt. He had looked beautiful in the moonglow, shrouded in shadows in the streets of Paris the night they had first laid eyes on one another, but up close and lit by the warm luminance from the fireplace transformed him into the most beautiful creature Louis had ever seen.
Louis could not hold himself back any longer. He lunged forward, capturing Armand in a deep kiss and nearly knocking him over in the process. A chuckle escaped Armand in between kisses, and he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist, tenderly encouraging him into his lap. Louis gasped at the sensation of being pressed so close to another person after so long going without, being held by that person, being the sole object of their attention in both body and mind. For though he admired Armand’s practice of refraining from peering into the thoughts of those with whom he was intimate, Louis did not presently have the capacity to resist.
What he found in Armand’s mind was delicious. His mind was overridden with thoughts of Louis, of all he was feeling physically as he continued to kiss and caress Louis. His thoughts were so powerful that it was as though Louis was experiencing it himself, enjoying Armand’s touch upon his body, but feeling in his mind what it was like to be the one stroking along his own back, his arms, his neck and face, hands traveling broadly and lips caught in a kiss.
It was more stimulation than he had ever experienced. Being intimate as a human was not even close. Even his dalliance in the bayou with Jonah, while he was a vampire capable of entering the minds of others, was overpowered by his concentration, his desperate attempt to control his unwieldy hunger. There had been no opportunity there to dip into Jonah’s mind, to rifle through all of his thoughts on the matter.
But so too was it different from his experiences with Lestat. He had, until this point, assumed that the vampire bond they shared made intimacy the best it could ever be. The invisible thread that connected their souls, he assumed, also connected their bodies, tied them together as they moved with one another, tightened as their passion increased. What could be more intimate than that, than the attachment between vampire and creator, whose sharing of blood — the sole lifegiver to vampires — had forever linked them? How could anything be more intimate than that?
Now, resting upon Armand’s lap, able to feel the sensations of their lust from both his own perspective and Armand’s, Louis knew that he had been wrong. There was something equally profound, if not more so, than physical love between those who shared the vampire bond. To see and feel all that his lover thought and felt was a power unlike any other. And to be tasked with the decision to do so, to choose whether to penetrate a lover’s mind or to function as mortals do, that only made it all the more profound. It was like unlocking another plane of a lover’s body, to allow one’s hands to wander over expanses of their flesh, and to allow one’s mind to wander through their thoughts. To speak without words. To know they can do the same. To know both parties can choose to refrain. It drove Louis wild.
“Look into my mind,” he gasped, mouthing down Armand’s jaw and settling at the pulse-point on his neck. “This once. To hell with spontaneity.”
Armand let out a ragged breath and clutched Louis impossibly closer. He kissed Louis’ neck repeatedly, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into his neck. He had told Louis several times how intoxicating he smelled and seemed to be relishing in his capability to breathe in his scent so freely and purposefully.
“Have you been seeking out my thoughts, dear Louis?” he asked, snaking a hand up to grasp at the base of Louis’ skull.
“Yes,” Louis confirmed, feeling somewhat shy. He wished Armand would not probe into all of his decisions, but rather oblige his request without question. “You have to understand, I couldn’t stop myself.”
Armand hummed and kissed Louis, filthily licking into his mouth. Louis could practically taste the hunger on Armand’s tongue.
“There is no need to defend your actions to me, Louis,” said Armand, and Louis had to chuckle to himself. Why, then, did Armand ask to begin with?
“I wanted to be sure that you were hearing my thoughts for yourself before reaching into your mind,” Armand continued, indicating that he had now begun to seek out Louis’ thoughts. “I wish only to take from you what you take from me.”
Louis was speechless. His hands had made their way to rest on Armand’s shoulder, and his left thumb swiped absentmindedly at Armand’s collarbone as they gazed at one another.
“So it’s not about spontaneity,” Louis murmured. “It’s about power.”
“Only with you, Louis.”
Louis swallowed. “What do you mean, ‘only with me’?”
“I mean that I do not feel compelled to refuse myself the benefits of my powers with anyone aside from you.”
“Why?”
Armand smiled. “Because I love you, Louis.”
A lump arose in Louis’ throat, but he managed to stave off tears. All he had known from Lestat was the full force of a more experienced vampire’s powers, shrouded in mystery but often directed at Louis through harsh words and violent retaliation. To have Armand treat him so tenderly, reverently, equally — it provoked unimaginable appreciation within him.
Armand’s smile only grew wider. He had heard Louis’ reaction to his declaration, and it had not been met with disgust, but rather delight. Breaking into an emotion-wearied smile of his own, Louis relaxed once more into Armand’s arms and brought their mouths back together.
He looked into Armand’s mind, and all he had experienced doing so earlier was multiplied infinite times. He was in a hall of mirrors, watching his own mind being observed in the mind of another, an almost overwhelming whirl of sensations, both physically and mentally. He had never felt closer to another person, even when stripped naked and entirely vulnerable in the arms of his former lovers. He tried momentarily to catalogue it all, to capture just a snapshot of the impression it left upon him, but he found it impossible to think of anything else. He was in utter rapture.
Armand finally shifted them, turning over so that Louis lay on his back, Armand atop him, slotted between his legs. This drew a pleased groan from Louis, who had intentionally begun thinking about how much he wished Armand to do just that. He made quick work of unbuttoning Armand’s shirt and pushing it off, sliding his hands up Armand’s sides and around his back. His flesh was hot under his touch, long since dried from the rain by the fire.
He was backlit by the fireglow, haloed in the soft light like a painting of an angel. His hair was the least tidy Louis had ever seen it, brushing against Armand’s forehead, his cheekbones, falling beautifully and imperfectly around his face. Louis was in absolute awe of him. He delighted in the successful pursuit of this magnificent vampire. Finally, he was back in control of his life once again. He chose to accept the invitation to the Théâtre des Vampires. He chose when to visit, when to stay away. He chose to pursue Armand, to allow Armand to pursue him in return. He chose where to live, what to wear, what to do with his time, how to handle his affairs with Claudia, when to sleep and what to eat and what occupied his thoughts. It was a freedom he had never quite felt in such wholeness, not in his human life nor in his vampire life in New Orleans. And the weight of a beautiful vampire on top of him -- a beautiful vampire who truly treated him as an equal this time -- was more than a consolation prize for enduring, but a culmination of his evolution. Perhaps it was too early to tell; the life of a vampire was unpredictable, after all. But there was a longevity in the intoxication. He knew he would not be able to shake this feeling, not easily. Could he be addicted to something without it inevitably ruining his life? He could only hope that was the case.
He thought back to that first night under the Théâtre des Vampires, how wordlessly he was seduced and wordlessly he gave into his own fright, hunger, lust. How he was presented with a mortal who was aroused at the very thought of giving his precious blood to Louis, the transference of that arousal as he sank his teeth into the young man’s flesh, held him in his arms. How he had picked the mortal up in his arms in front of that host of strange vampires, performing for them as they had performed for him. How he rutted shamelessly against his meal, alternating between biting and kissing the young man’s neck, relishing the sounds he made before passing him back to rest in Armand’s sure and even grasp. How the joined pair had then looked at him, smiling in the candlelight of the chamber, an unsettling intimacy following his first petit coup of a mortal. He had, in the heat of passion, drunk from Lestat’s vampiric veins, but never had he tasted a mortal without also bringing about their death. It was ecstasy. It was terror.
And sharing his mind with Armand was equally as ecstatic and terrifying. He let himself grow entirely lost in the sensation of it all, wrapping his legs loosely around Armand’s hips, drunk on his languid kisses. No one kissed like Armand. He was at once ancient and experienced but also eager as a young man, a human man. He chased after every connection of their lips, and seemed to adore Louis’ tricks, rewarding him with the most alluring sighs and moans. Louis loved it when Armand hummed into his mouth, feeling the vibration radiating throughout his throat, where one of his thumbs brushed over the seductive hill of Armand’s Adam's apple.
He allowed his other hand to sink lower, latching his left thumb into the waistband of Armand’s luxuriously soft woolen trousers. Armand sensed Louis eagerness through both action and thought, and detached from the kiss long enough to undo the three buttons of his fly and push both of his remaining bottom layers off.
Louis grew more and more thrilled as he watched Armand undress for him, briefly trying to figure how long it had been since he had been intimate with another. Not since he had arrived in Europe. Not since Lestat. Not since he was lost in his depression, going through appeasing motions, was he regularly active; and he only shared a bed with Lestat a few times once he and Claudia had vowed to rid themselves of him. How confusing his last sexual encounters had been, full of hidden betrayal and feelings of love heightened either by delusion or desperation. Here with Armand, however, he finally felt secure, resolute, certain. It was yet another point on his growing list of what made this scene, tucked away in an abandoned, fire-lit tower so very special.
As soon as Armand was entirely nude, the stark difference in their states of dress became all at once clear. Louis had been so lost in his own thoughts and watching Armand remove his own clothes that he had neglected to take off a single piece of clothing himself.
“May I?” Armand asked aloud, and within his mind elucidated that he meant to disrobe Louis.
Louis nodded, and Armand came back to his knees to untie Louis’ shoes one by one, removing them as reverently as one might remove a more exposing piece of clothing. He looked up through his eyelashes at Louis, the effect it had on him not losing its luster despite Armand’s repetition of doing so. He made similarly careful work of removing Louis’ socks, seemingly working with no shame or hesitation despite his complete nudity. His form made sense in a setting such as this, unusual though it was — a dark, destroyed tower, a pair of vampire lovers, one a veritable youth by supernatural standards, the other an ancient being, strong and sure, but gentle and loving and warm.
Louis was caught between wishing Armand would move faster and enjoying his languid movements. He had moved on to Louis’ shirt, slipping it over his head and running his soft hands over Louis’ chest, his stomach. Louis noted how Armand never scratched at him, didn’t press down roughly with his hands, at least he hadn’t yet — but Louis was pleasantly surprised to find that Armand was no less passionate in his delicate way of touching, only gentler, perhaps more intentional in his movements. Louis had not thought to ask how many lovers Armand had taken over the years, but for all intents and purposes, he seemed to know what he was doing.
Armand’s touch was over him completely, leaving trails of heat upon Louis’ body. His untouched skin missed the sensation of Armand’s hands as soon as they moved elsewhere. Somewhere in the movement, Louis tipped his hips upward slightly, causing Armand to dip his fingertips just under the waistband. Louis reached down to undo his own belt, but was stopped by Armand, who pinned Louis’ wrist above his head with one hand and tugged at the belt at an almost cruelly slow pace with the other. He made slightly quicker work of Louis’ slacks, slipping them down and off along with his underwear in a manner that dragged the fabric seductively over Louis’ hips, his thighs, his cock.
Louis could not resist tugging Armand back up atop him, against his skin, legs entangled and hands wandering. He gasped as Armand lowered more of his full weight upon him, letting him feel the warm hardness of Armand against the inner crease of his thigh. He rocked up once, twice, almost lightheaded at Armand’s sounds of reaction. He loved the way Armand would break away from the kiss to rest his forehead against Louis’, mouth agape, letting out shaky breaths as Louis continued to shift his hips.
Still with his forehead against Louis’, breathing heavily of Louis’ own breath, eyes shut in bliss, Armand sighed, “What do you want of me?”
Louis sucked his own bottom lip into his mouth, swallowed hard. “I want you. I want all of you.”
“Tell me what you wish me to do.”
You’re in my head already, Louis thought. Armand heard him, and kissed his way down Louis’ jaw, suckled on the artery of his neck for a moment. Louis gripped at his hips.
“Speak your desire aloud,” Armand said against Louis’ ear. “I want my body to be as lucky as my mind. I want to feel the words you say, your wishes. I want to feel your chest buzz when you vocalize your craving, want to see your tongue form the shape of your longing.”
Louis groaned low in his throat as Armand licked at the skin below his ear.
“Want your hand. Want your hand on the both of us, at the same time,” he managed to say.
Armand smiled, hummed. He did as Louis asked, shifting his hips slightly and bringing his hand down to wrap around both of them. Louis hissed and hugged his arms around Armand’s shoulders, pressing as much of their skin together as he could. His stomach clenched and relaxed as Armand purposefully moved his hand, occasionally teasing the tip of Louis’ cock with his forefinger and his own with the pad of his thumb.
Louis kissed at any skin he could reach with his mouth, particularly enjoying licking at the sweat that ran along Armand’s collarbone. He thought about biting down on it, tasting for the first time Armand’s blood. He imagined it was as intoxicating as the rest of Armand, that it would leave him knocked out in bliss. He wondered if it might be sweet, or if it was rich and hearty. He wanted to drain Armand, to pass blood between their mouths, their veins. But he could not bring himself to it yet. He wanted to allow Armand to be the first to satiate his hunger. Louis moved a hand down, feeling along the line of Armand’s vertebrae, finally palming at the swell of his ass, encouraging Armand to move his hips. Armand caught on, tightening his grip slightly and beginning to thrust at first infinitesimally, creating a delightful slick drag of his cock against Louis’.
“I want your mouth,” Louis gasped, and Armand licked his way into Louis’ mouth, only to be met by Louis pulling away slightly. “I want your teeth,” he clarified, and Armand looked him in the eye for the first time in a while. Louis pecked a kiss on the corner of his mouth, gripped a guiding hand around the base of Armand’s skull. “If I’m parched, you must be too. Drink from me, so that I might drink from you.”
Louis realized as soon as he spoke how biblical it all sounded. Indeed, it felt like a form of worship, and Armand seemed to him a type of god, ancient and unwavering and powerful, at times melodramatic, but more often immensely alluring. He had drawn so many to his fold, to his flock, but Louis did not feel like merely a number in his congregation. Rather he was an object of Armand’s divine adoration, a conduit through which his love and knowledge flowed out and back. And now their blood was that exchange made manifest, as Armand dipped his head into the crook of Louis’ neck and bit down, blood surging into his mouth as he swallowed reverently.
It was more than orgasmic. It was the universe upon a hairsbreadth, the history of time compressed into a single moment. A material passage of life itself from one being to another, bound to a transference of consciousness between two minds, and the collision of physical and emotional love, all at once. If ever there was a powerful moment for vampiric gifts such as flight to reveal themselves, Louis thought, this would be the instance, but he was pleased to find that none reared their head, and thus his and Armand’s passion went uninterrupted.
Louis listened in rapturous satisfaction as Armand’s heartbeat grew quicker with every sip, and his own got slower, weaker, until it was almost gone entirely. He needed Armand’s blood in his own mouth. Moving his dizzy head slightly, but still allowing Armand to drink from him, Louis lapped at Armand’s strained neck, and sank his teeth into the beautiful smooth flesh there, causing Armand to groan louder than he had yet while gulping down Louis’ blood. Louis closed this circuit between them, allowing them the opportunity to remain latched to this pleasure ad infinitum, or at least until they had to seek shelter from the sun. Louis pictured the two of them entwined within the comfort of a lush coffin, the velvet-lined walls trapping their shared heat and the noises they made as they rutted against one another, mouths desperately fixed to one another’s throats.
At last, however, Louis realized that their situation was unsustainable for another reason — as Armand had fed upon him, heart racing, so too had his hand quickened its pace, leaving Louis on the verge of intense climax as he tore his bloody mouth away from Armand’s neck. He took care, even in his orgasmic delirium, to savor every drop of blood he had taken from Armand, licking his lips and chin and relishing in its honey-like sweetness.
Armand must have sensed the sudden tension in Louis’ body, and also seen into Louis’ whirling mind, for in one swift motion, he pulled away from his feeding as Louis had done, and threw himself back on his knees, hands slipping down Louis’ torso to rest on his hip bones. Before Louis knew what was happening, Armand had taken him into his mouth, hot and slick from Louis’ own blood. Louis tossed his head back in ecstasy, overwhelmed by the sudden loss of their sanguine exchange, combined with Armand’s proficiency with his tongue.
He lifted his head so he might see Armand at work, and was met with a beautiful and positively obscene image of his lover, eyes gently shut and mouth dripping with the pinkish syrup of diluted blood. Louis thought to move his head back, as the view would surely bring about his release quicker than he’d have liked, but Armand flicked his eyes open suddenly, locking his gaze with Louis’.
Come for me, Armand said, and as soon as it clicked in Louis’ brain that he was hearing Armand’s projected thoughts, and that he might speak even with Louis’ cock heavy in his mouth, it was enough to undo Louis instantly. He came with a groan, Armand’s strong hands doing a great deal to keep his hips from bucking too fiercely. Armand closed his eyes once more, his thoughts full of the lustful appreciation of the feeling of Louis upon his tongue, the sounds he made as he came down from his climax. Louis heard it all, of course, and reached down to curl his hand around Armand’s damp chin, guiding him off of Louis’ cock.
Armand resisted slightly, taking his time kissing across Louis’ hips and pelvic bone, Louis’ palm now upon as he sucked kissed up his torso. When he was face-to-face with Louis at last, Louis took Armand into his hand, stroking him deftly, sweetly, continuing to make eye contact throughout his movement.
Louis heard Armand sigh aloud, and heard his internal celebration, his utter relief at feeling Louis touch him at last. By peering into his lover’s mind, Louis was able to take Armand apart piece by piece just as he desired — he could sense when exactly Armand wished to be kissed and where, what he wanted of Louis’ other hand (it stayed, for most of their lovemaking, clutching Armand’s ass), how fast or slow he could withstand the pumping of Louis’ hand. Louis acquiesced to these silent requests, chasing anything that would make Armand sigh or groan or pant — he often caught himself thinking how addictive the tone and timbre of Armand’s voice was, and the sounds he made as Louis touched him were no less lovely.
He grew all the more vocal as he approached his peak, and Louis looked into his mind once more to time out his motions perfectly. With a tight cry, Armand spilled into Louis’ hand and over his stomach, collapsing onto him and burying his face into Louis’ sweaty neck. Louis wiped his hand on the rug beneath them and brought his arms around Armand, holding him in a tight hug, palms flat against the contours of Armand’s back.
Louis allowed himself, once Armand had settled into the embrace, to be comforted by this touch. For too much of Louis’ life touch had served only the purpose of arousal or pain. But holding Armand, and being held by him in return, with no fear of interruption or backlash, with a certainty of affection, Louis felt relaxed, consoled. Every type of tension released from his body at once, and all he had to focus on was the smoothness of the skin of Armand’s back, the delicious weight of his body atop Louis, the warmth and sweetness of his breath against Louis’ neck. It was bliss.
“It has been centuries since I allowed myself to love even a fraction as deeply as I love you now,” Armand murmured after a while, his cheek pressed against Louis’ collarbone, the vibration of his chest as he spoke buzzing against Louis’ rib cage. He lifted himself up onto an elbow so he might see Louis’ face. “In my five hundred years upon this earth — some much lonelier than others — I have never come across a being quite so beautiful as you.”
Louis’ lips curled into a smile, his eyes closing for a moment before he opened them once more, meeting Armand’s sure, tender gaze.
“I do not fall in love easily,” Armand continued. “Quickly, perhaps. But it takes a very special, very powerful individual to puncture through the opaque balloon of apprehension and disillusion that surrounds me. Those who have tried in the past have let only a pinprick of light through, which seems quite blinding to someone who has lived so long in the dark. But you, Louis —” Armand ran his hand up Louis’ chest to cup his jaw, thumb rubbing slowly against his cheekbone, “—you have burst through entirely, letting yourself in, letting the very sunshine in. It should destroy us, but it doesn’t. What in our human lives warmed us, and in our vampire lives threatens us, warms us once again.”
Louis understood how audiences found Armand so captivating. He spoke with such clarity and passion that he might be able to convince anyone of any concept or ideal, not by supernaturally compelling them, but simply with the power of his own words. Indeed, he had managed to convince Louis of his love — Louis, who had cast doubt upon any expression of love thrust his way in the last thirty-odd years. It only helped that Louis could see the truth within Armand’s mind, and he knew that what Armand told him now was entirely what he felt.
“I know you are only practiced in expressing aloud your melancholy,” Armand said, voice quieter now. “I do not expect you to jump headlong into musing about love and romance, now or ever. But I must ask one thing of you: that you tell me if you do not love me, which may burn me for a while, but not so long as acting upon unreciprocated love might.”
Louis flinched. The last time someone implored him to admit such a thing, he had been dropped from the sky. He felt the air knock out of his lungs in a poor imitation of that moment, but collected himself. After all, this was a gentle moment, a safe moment. He knew the power contained within Armand, and knew that he tread a dangerous path by toying with the emotions of an ancient vampire, especially one with so many minions lingering in the eaves and alleys of the city. But he also could see inside Armand’s mind, and knew that he meant Louis no emotional harm, let alone physical. It was his own state on the line here.
Louis also knew this moment was different from the other for one more reason.
“I suppose I have nothing to say in that case,” he whispered, eyes bright, mouth curled into a slight smile.
Armand let out a small laugh of relief to hear it. He had heard Louis’ reaction to his initial love-declaration, a joyful sound thrumming in his mind. This, however, was confirmation enough for him that Louis did indeed love him. He could not stop from swooping down and joining their lips together, from clutching Louis in his arms as he uttered his love over and over again across Louis’ warm skin.
After allowing this affection to go on for a while, Louis cupped his hands around Armand’s head and made their gazes meet once more.
“I love you,” he whispered. He only realized the full gravity of his admission when the words left his lips. How long had it been since he had said these words? He’d never said them to Lestat, he knew that all too well. He and Claudia demonstrated their devotion to one another, but he could not seem to remember if he had ever told her that he loved her. He did, there was no doubt, but like with Grace and his mother, it was something that went more often unsaid. The love was still there, they just didn’t say it. After they grew fearful of him, he wondered whether it was even possible that the love remained.
Paul had been the most open of the family, expressing at all moments exactly how he felt. He had told Louis he loved him before walking off the roof to his death. Louis had said it back. Was that the last time he had said that he loved someone? Had he never uttered them since that night, since last he saw the sun rise in the east? Since he was human?
Was love only for the living? The vampires around him thought not. They waltzed about professing their love for any and all things, places, people. Of course, he had always felt distant from other vampires for many reasons, not the least of which being his own evasion of drinking human blood. But how did he reckon with the concept of love? He was sure he had pondered it before. It would have been impossible to avoid. But now that he was in love, a love that he felt secure enough to admit aloud, he was unsure where he had landed on the matter.
The three words felt almost foreign for him to say now because it had been so long, even though he was certain he wanted to say it. He loved Armand, he was sure of it. Perhaps he had not known it before tonight, or perhaps he had been yet another in a long line of vampires who fell in love with another vampire at first sight, but he knew it now, and he needed Armand to know, too. Not just by denying that he did not love Armand, but by saying plainly, gently, that he loved him.
Because Armand gave him the opportunity to love. This was not the expected, somewhat enforced love between a creator and fledgling vampire. They did not have to love one another. The world would continue to turn heavily on its axis if they were not in love. But didn’t that make it so much more wonderful? To acknowledge the cord connecting a creator and a fledgling was one matter, a romantic proposition in itself, but to fashion the cord yourself, without needing the intervention of supernatural blood? To reach out to another being and say, “we are connected, because I wish it, and for no other reason?”
“You love me,” Armand sighed contentedly.
Louis beamed. “I’m glad I don’t need to break your heart.”
“It certainly makes things much simpler,” Armand admitted with a laugh, sitting up now, propping his body up with his left hand. “I hope this means you’ll come to see me more often.”
Louis let out a breath and lifted himself to a sitting position as well, slight guilt washing over him. There was truth in Armand’s teasing. Louis had been avoiding Armand this past week. In his defense, it had been ages since he was truly allowed to do whatever he wished. He found it easier to fall back into familiar habits than to grasp open opportunity. This meant being around Claudia, within the comfort of their home.
“I really am sorry,” Louis said. “This is all very new for me, for Claudia.”
“And you also fear what might happen when she is not under your watchful eye.”
Louis was slightly taken aback. “I trust her to make the right choices. She has Madeleine, she has a sister of her own now. I trust her enough to rear a fledgling.”
“Mischief is not the only thing that comes from you looking away. I would wager you’re more concerned about what else grows there.”
“Which is?” Louis asked.
“Distance.”
Louis did not respond.
“You fear losing her. I do not blame you, for you have shared a majority of your immortal life with her, and she has shared the entirety of hers with you. The prospect of going about eternal life alone is something to be frightened of indeed.”
“Is it possible to survive eternity without another?” Louis asked, genuinely desperate to know. Having to struggle through this life in the company of others was already difficult enough for him. He had already lost Lestat, who until that point was one of only two enduring companions. He could not imagine the agony of being left completely alone. He needed to cling to Claudia, and now to Armand. He could not let go of them, otherwise it meant facing the haunting terrors alone.
“I do not think it possible,” Armand admitted.
“So you must understand why I’ve clung to Claudia this past week, why I haven’t come to you.”
Armand nodded.
“And I keep tearing myself up inside, hating myself for turning Madeleine. I feel like I’m constantly living in a hell of my own making.” Louis threw himself back upon the rug, palms digging into his eye sockets. “I told myself I would never do this, never make another vampire.”
Armand laid a comforting hand on Louis’ chest. “Do not blame yourself, Louis. If there is anyone for you to blame, it is me. I helped convince you to make this girl a vampire.”
Louis let out a single choked sob.
“See it another way, Louis. Do not think you have cursed another. See that you have prevented Claudia from experiencing the loneliness you so fear. And you have given the same gift to Madeleine. And now that you are here with me, and you love me, you have also given the gift to me.”
Armand gently pulled Louis’ hands from his eyes, wiped at Louis’ tears with his own thumb. “You are not condemned to the loneliness of eternity, Louis. I will make certain of that. For as long as I walk this earth, I will dedicate myself to the mission of your happiness.”
He kissed Louis’ mouth, a tender peck and nothing more.
“I have waited and watched for you, and now I’ll fight for you. Do you see how ruthless I am in love? I will destroy anything that upsets you, if you wish it of me,” he promised.
Louis sniffled. “Why me?”
“You are the spirit of this age,” Armand said. “You teach me things I could never wish to read in the thickest books. You are the very heart of this time.”
“No,” Louis protested weakly, shaking his head. “I’ve never satisfied a single person that I’ve ever loved, not my family, not my lover, not my daughter…” he trailed off, wiping the remaining tears from his own eyes. “I’m at odds with everything. Everything! And I always have been. When I was a human, it was my work. It drove me away from my family, from my home. Not to mention who I chose to fuck. Then I was a vampire, and a bad vampire, a vampire who hates taking human life. I’ve never belonged anywhere, in any form, at any time.”
Armand broke into a luminous smile. “That is precisely what makes you the spirit of this age! The displacement you feel is woven into the very fabric of the world outside this tower. You reflect back its broken heart. You are a conduit for humanity, it is one of the things I love about you!”
Louis gazed into the fire, letting Armand’s words settle over him. He wished he could profess some great declaration about Armand, to wax poetic about him, but he could not find the words. He had nothing but time to think of them, to write them down, to read them out to his love. He was determined to do so. Armand had said that he was not expecting Louis to fall immediately into expressing his love, but Louis wanted to, he wanted to have the words to tell Armand how he felt. Until he did, however, he could at least show his appreciation for what Armand had said.
“It might take me some time to believe all you say,” Louis confessed, turning back to look Armand in the eye, “but thank you. To hear you say such kind things -- it means more to me than you know.”
He kissed Armand once, then drew him into a hug, a shiver running through him when he felt Armand’s arms wrap around his back. There they remained, huddled in each others’ embrace, the fire’s warmth licking at their bare skin, the storm outside continuing to rage. They had said all they needed to say for the night, an easy conclusion to reach for those who had an eternity approaching them. For now, it was enough just to hold one another before they were forced to face the dawn.