The Only Heaven We Can Reach

~3800 words :: Vampire Chronicles :: Louis/Lestat :: 12/28/02
Lestat returns from a business trip and finds Louis ready and waiting for him.

Lestat had been gone for two nights. Not that long really, but I was restless. Maybe I should have gone with him to New York. But it was just business meetings, going over some new ventures with his agent there. Not as if we would have much time to really do anything, although I suppose if I had gone we could have made time. It’s not as if we have jobs to come back to or anything like that. Now I was really regretting not accompanying him.

I had gone out to hunt directly after waking and upon returning I headed upstairs, planning to spend the rest of the night curled up with a good book. I was halfway down the hall when the phone rang and I picked it up in the bedroom.

It was Lestat, of course. Just hearing his voice, God. I was hard in the instant he said hello.

“So what excitement have you been up to since I’ve been gone? Hmm?”

I chuckled. “Don’t you know there’s no excitement in my life when you’re not by my side, mon ange?” My tone was flippant, but I was serious. For all I’d lived without him for decades in the past, I’ll be the first to admit that those years were decidedly lacking in anything that could be termed excitement. Well, not by Lestat anyway.

“Don’t tell me you’ve holed yourself up in the house reading the whole time?”

“Not the whole time, no. I did manage to drag myself out to the theatre last night for a late showing of Lord of the Rings.”

“Louis, we just saw that last week!”

“Lestat,” I replied, mimicking his tone, “I hardly think you’re one to talk about seeing things over and over.”

I realized I’d been unconsciously stroking myself for the past few minutes. This is what you do to me.

My voice was markedly thicker when I asked when he would be returning. They were wrapping things up, but he wouldn’t have time to get home tonight. He’d be home tomorrow, he said, but he didn’t sound pleased about it.

“I wish I could be there with you now, cher,” he practically growled. My cock jumped under my hand and I heard myself moan aloud.

“Come home, then, tonight.” I was this close to begging.

No such luck, of course. Well I’d had no trouble making do on my own the nights before, but now I couldn’t get him out of my head. The insistent strain of my erection against the fabric of my jeans wasn’t helping any either.

With a final I love you, I hung up the phone and began flicking open the buttons of my fly as I walked across the room to the bed. Our bed, which seemed so large and empty without him.

I lay back on the bed, taking myself in hand. Closing my eyes I tried to picture what he would be doing now, what he would be wearing. A suit, almost certainly. He’d taken two, a black one and the grey one I like so much. Yes, the grey suit with that new navy silk shirt I’d bought him. His hair…he would leave it long, wouldn’t he? Soft waves just brushing his collar. Classy. Perfect for his role as rich, young businessman.

Lifting my hips, I pushed my jeans down further. Not actually mine. I liked wearing his clothes, and he liked to see me in them, even if he did jokingly complain that they weren’t as tight as he’d like. I smiled at the thought. Only a size or so too large and he complains about them being baggy.

Yes, I could see him in my mind, playing his role to the hilt. How I would love to be there with him when his meeting ended. How I would love to get him out of that suit. My breath hitched at the thought. My hand had been keeping up a steady rhythm, slow still – if I was going to spend the evening fantasizing about Lestat I might as well make it last – but now I let go and wiggled the rest of the way out of my jeans, kicking them off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

Still wearing my socks and shirt, I settled back against the pillows. One knee pulled up, I grasped my aching cock once more and ran my thumb around the leaking tip. The heady scent of bloody pre-come filled the air, causing my nostrils to flare. I moaned and screwed my eyes shut, squeezing harder as I slid my other hand up under my shirt, my fingers brushing lightly across my stomach and ribs.

I pictured myself undressing him, hands roaming over the firm muscles of his chest and shoulders as I pushed back the soft silk of his shirt. Kissing my way down, flicking my tongue over his nipples, pulling and sucking until they were as hard as the erection pressing against my hip.

My mouth hung open as I panted for breath. My nails scraped across the flesh of my belly, raising welts but not drawing blood. I tugged at my nipple, rolling the sensitive nub between my finger and thumb.

I imagined him stripped down to his slacks, the zipper undone, exposing a tantalizing trail of golden hair that stood out starkly against his tanned skin. I saw him stick his thumbs into the waistband and slip his slacks slowly over his hips, letting them drop to the floor.

A fine sweat had broken out all over my body and once again I breathed deeply, taking in the sharp tang of blood and arousal. I brought my knee up higher and reached down, inserting my index finger into the tight, hot opening. My whole body spasmed as I hit that spot and I gasped, calling his name. Wanting him desperately.

I could see him, his eyes shifting from their usual grey to a deep bluish-violet. I saw his tongue dart out to lick his lips, and then scrape along his fang on the way back in.

Blood filled my mouth and my toes curled, pushing into the bedclothes. I arched my back, the muscles in my thighs and stomach so tight it seemed they would snap.

In my mind’s eye he kissed my neck and thrust roughly into me, biting down as he did so, and I came hard in my hand. Taking great gulps of air, I turned onto my side and, still shuddering from my climax, brought my hand to my mouth and began licking away the bloody come.

Unable to keep my eyes open, I soon drifted into a light, mortal sleep, filled with dreams of my beloved.

I hadn’t planned on teasing Louis; actually I had called to tell him I was coming home tonight. But when I heard his voice, heard how much he was missing me, well I wasn’t dubbed the Brat Prince for nothing, you know. So there he was, saying Lestat, I miss you, come home tonight, and the words just popped out of my mouth.

“Sorry, cher, but with the way things are looking, I won’t be able to make it back until tomorrow.”

After all, I’d invited him to come along, hadn’t I? We could have had stayed a few extra nights and seen the town or just stayed in the hotel and made love all night. Whatever he wanted. But no, he wanted to stay home. Serves him right to miss me, then, because I was missing him like hell.

Of course I was coming home tonight. I had a flight booked and everything; in fact I was in the limo on the way to the airport when I called him. And I wasn’t so perverse that I was actually going to postpone my homecoming just to make Louis feel bad. Well, there was a time when I might have, but not now. Not anymore. Instead I figured I’d surprise him. Be all romantic. Score some points, that sort of thing.

Once back in New Orleans, I had the driver stop at a florist before taking me home. Two dozen red roses would do the trick.

It was just a little after eleven when I arrived at the townhouse, still plenty of night left for all manner of fun. I panicked for a moment as I walked up the stairs. What if he wasn’t home? He’d said he’d gone out last night, after all. Oh damn, it would be just my luck if he’d gone out again, and all because I’d told him not to expect me home.

But my fears were allayed when I got inside and saw his shoes and coat. Louis has this annoying habit of stepping out of his shoes when he gets home and just leaving them in the middle of the foyer.

He wasn’t downstairs, though. Reading, probably. Well whatever he was doing, he didn’t seem to have heard me come in.

Hanging up my coat, I headed upstairs with my bouquet.

Even before I reached our bedroom door, I could hear his soft breathing. Asleep, huh? Well, I’ve often wondered how he can read some of those books of his without dozing off. Just looking over his shoulder sends me to sleep sometimes. Like all those Tolkien books he’s been reading lately. Says he’s been a fan since they were first published. This is what I get when I leave my fledglings unsupervised.

But while there was indeed a book tossed carelessly on the pillow next to him, it was all too obvious that this was not the cause of his current condition.

A pair of jeans lay crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed, and my Louis was wearing nothing but a tight-fitting, black turtleneck and a pair of socks. Do I really even need to mention the fact that the sight had me painfully hard and practically drooling?

His hair was mussed, partially covering his face and spread out on the pillow behind him, and he lay on his side, one perfect, white, sculpted leg pulled up even with his waist.

The soft rise and fall of his chest was in direct contrast to my own harsh panting. Oh Louis, Louis, Louis. What a welcome. And you didn’t even expect me home tonight.

The delectable curve of his ass. The line of his jaw and the smooth column of his neck. Pale pink lips slightly parted, revealing a hint of gleaming white fang. My blood roiled at the sight and I could feel my veins throbbing. Crying out for him. I don’t know how long I stood there in the doorway staring, the roses hanging forgotten at my side.

I approached quietly, not wanting to wake him. Not just yet. He looked so beautifully angelic in his sleep and I was suddenly reminded of a line from a song I had heard recently.

“…All legs and wings…” I whispered reverently. Yes, always my dark angel to save me from myself.

Letting the roses fall to the bed, I bent over him and ran my hand over his hip and side, pushing up his shirt and coming to rest just below his ribs.

His eyes fluttered open, infinite shades of green swirling behind the thick curtain of his lashes. Hazy and unfocused and full of love and lust.

“Lestat,” he murmured, reaching up to touch my face. “Not a dream.” His smile was lazy and languid and still had somewhat of a sleepy quality about it. A smile from Louis used to be such a rare thing, something to be treasured and locked away in case I never saw it again. Each one is still a treasure, and I do remember them all, even now. Ah, but now he smiles for me always and I can hardly believe that I am the source of his joy.

He stretched, leaning into my hand, and rolled onto his back. A study in black and white, streaks of red standing out starkly on his thigh and belly and cock. The scent of it was delicious, something purely Louis, and I was positively delirious with it.

Pulling me down on top of him, he kissed me hard, greedily, and spoke against my lips, “You’re far too overdressed, cher.”

“I do believe you’re right.” I made no move to part from him, however. Our mouths crushed together fiercely, fangs scraping against lips and tongues, and the blood I tasted was neither mine nor Louis’s but a mixture of both.

Slicing deeply into my tongue, I let his mouth fill with my blood before pulling back. His eyes rolled back into his head and he moaned deep in his throat, fingers curling around my upper arm, bruising the flesh.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“You’re the one who said I was overdressed, or have you forgotten already?”

He considered it for a moment. “I do like that suit,” he said finally, releasing my arm. “I suppose it wouldn’t do to have it ripped to shreds after only one wearing…”

Standing up, I grinned and tossed my jacket on a chair behind me. “Oh, you do, do you?” I asked, unbuttoning my shirt.

“Mmm,” he said, pushing himself up on his elbows and watching me through slitted eyes.

I shrugged out of my shirt and it joined my jacket on the chair. I wasn’t exactly slow about it, but I wasn’t hurried either. I loved it when he watched me; his gaze was palpable, like a caress. Like a prelude. Every cell cried out for the touch of his flesh against mine.

He was fondling himself now, rolling his tight balls in his palm. I stood frozen, spell-bound, my hands at my belt forgotten. His tongue flicked over his fang, drawing blood which he did not swallow, but allowed to trickle out of the corner of his mouth.

My cock was aching, as were my fangs. My entire body was on fire for him.

Somehow I shook myself out of my reverie and managed to get my belt and fly undone. As I slipped my slacks over my hips, I heard a soft chuckle escape his lips and he said, “Deja vu.”

I must have looked totally lost, because he just gave me that slow smile again and elaborated. “You,” he waved at the clothes on the chair and then at me taking off my pants, “the suit,” his gaze shifted to his other hand, steadily stroking himself, “this.”

Visions of Louis pleasuring himself were threatening to overwhelm me. “God,” I choked out, trying regain some measure of control over myself.

I let my pants drop to the floor and kicked them off, along with my shoes. As I bent down to get rid of my socks, I saw him sit up and pull off his turtleneck, muscles rippling under his skin. Such perfection should be impossible.

I sat down next to him and began slowly rolling the sock down his left ankle and pulling it off, then did the same with the right. Even his feet are beautiful, even his toes. Still holding his right foot, I kissed each toe, flicking my tongue between them.

All my energies were concentrated on this act, and I felt rather than saw him lie back against the pillows, relaxing, letting me have my wicked way with him. He shivered when I started using my teeth as well as my tongue, knowing what was coming. I pierced him, feeling my fang sink deep into the pad of his toe, scraping against the bone. His whole body jerked, but I held him in place, moaning as his blood welled up to fill my mouth.

His hands twisted in the bedclothes as he writhed, muttering in French under his breath. I moved on from his toes, kissing and licking and nipping my way along his arch and up to his ankle, biting deeply into the taut muscle of his calf. My cock twitched in response as he gasped my name.

Now I was up to the back of his knee. Smooth, white skin. I licked it and he tensed, expecting my fangs, but I moved on, crawling up between his thighs.

My tongue made broad sweeps over his hip and inner thigh, lapping up the dried blood from earlier, and I moaned, wishing I’d been there to see that. I licked his cock clean, too, but despite his urgings, did not take him in my mouth.

“Not yet, cher,” I murmured against his belly, loving the way his muscles fluttered and tensed beneath my hands and lips.

“You’re killing me, Lesta- fuck!!” He screamed as I used my fangs to make two ragged gashes just below his navel. He arched his back and grabbed my shoulders, his nails drawing blood as I probed the wounds with my tongue, not letting them heal. The taste of him was divine.

I finally left off on his belly, watching as the flesh began to knit itself together. It never ceases to fascinate me.

My next place of worship was his left nipple, and I suckled it to a state of erection. I bit it lightly, not drawing blood, before moving on to its twin. His chest was slick with sweat, white marble covered in a sheen of pink. I rubbed my face in it and it mixed with my own, which already darkened my temples and matted my hair to the back of my neck.

He turned his head to the side, his neck enlongated, the pulsing vein calling to me, and I could feel an answering throb in my fangs. I ran my tongue along the length of it and I imagined I could taste the blood through his skin.

Ah, that first taste of him, over two centuries ago now, and yet I still remember it as if it were yesterday. Soft, mortal skin covered in sweat, drenched in the scent of alcohol. But his blood, his blood was like nothing I’d ever had before and I’d known right then that I must have him. Must make him mine forever. And even now it was hard for me to believe that’s what he wanted as well. But it was. I heard him calling my name, urging me to take him. To make him mine once again, as I have so many times before. As he has made me his. As we strive to become one.

But I had other ideas now, and so didn’t linger on his neck, lest I drink and lose myself completely.

I moved back down, running my fingertips over his ribs and down his sides. My mouth hovered over the leaking head of his cock, almost touching, but not quite. I ran my hands over his thighs, the muscles tense and as hard as granite. Waiting. Waiting to see what he would do.

His breaths were stuttered, becoming more and more ragged until finally he screamed, “Stop! Teasing!”

Nails clawing the back of my head, he forced me down, fucking my mouth bloody. He was like an iron rod down my throat, filling me until I thought I would die from the rapture of being taken, of surrendering to him.

He screamed again as he came, bathing my throat in his essence. His whole body limp and trembling with the force of his climax, he collapsed back against the pillows. Hands still on my head, fingers threaded through my tangled locks, but now his touch was soft, caressing, loving, though perhaps that is misleading, as I had felt his love before as well.

His heart was beating so fast, threatening to burst, or was that mine? I couldn’t tell anymore.

Lifting my head, I saw myself reflected in the depths of his eyes. I looked mad, wild, inhuman. Fangs glistening, my chin dripping blood and saliva. Demon.

And he said, “Ange, mon ange. Your beauty blinds me. Your light. You shine brighter than the sun.”

Tears clouded my vision, bathing everything in a crimson veil, and I was utterly undone. Unable to speak, I descended on him, devouring his mouth, and he responded in kind.

He sucked the blood from my teeth, from the still-healing wounds in my mouth, and then he held my head still, so gentle with me now, and licked the tears and sweat and blood from my face. Like a cat, licking me clean.

I drew back from him and with my thumbnail sliced through my palm and fingers, coating my cock thoroughly. I penetrated him slowly, loving the way he begged for more, his head thrown back, expression ecstatic. He lifted his hips and I slid my hands under his ass, grasping him tightly.

When I was finally hilted inside him I stopped, marveling once again at the fact that we are here, together, despite everything. That damned though we may be, we are allowed this bit of heaven. To be joined as one, body and mind. And in the end, did I even desire any more than that?

His muscles clenched and relaxed around me until I could hold still no longer. He grabbed my wrist as I began thrusting within him. Bringing it to his mouth, he licked the length of the pulsing vein, priming it, and then my world exploded as he tore it open with his fangs, drinking me down.

I fell forward, latching on to his throat, all coherent thought blasted away by the high of orgasm and the swoon.

We lay together, finally whole. Complete. But the euphoria eventually faded, bringing us back to ourselves.

“Are these for me?” he asked lazily, spotting the roses for the first time.

“Who else?”

“Just making sure,” he said, plucking one from the bouquet and drawing the stem across my chest. I gasped as the thorns tore at my flesh, leaving bright red beads in their wake. He deftly twirled it in his fingers and then brushed my chest with the petals, gathering the droplets of blood.

He lifted the rose to his face, taking in the scent of it, and of me. Eyes never leaving mine, he began licking my blood off, petal by petal.

I moaned at the sight of it and his lips curved in a smile. He pulled me close, his movements become drowsy with the coming dawn, and the last thing I remembered before falling into the death sleep was his lips on mine and then at my ear, his voice full of promise, saying, “I’ll have to thank you for these tomorrow.”