Disclaimer: This is a work of non profit making fan fiction. No infringements are intended towards Anne Rice or her publishers. The story is mine, please do not copy it without permission, just ask, I don't bite!
Warning: This contains scenes of M/M vampire sex, quit now if you can't handle it.
Dedication: This one is for my dear friend, JP, for many wonderful e-mails and an obsession shared, I love you girl!
This is set after the Tale of the Body Thief, approximately 1991. It is inspired by Heather's
stunning picture, the best artwork of its type on the net.
I awoke with my arm around his waist and the scent of his skin, earthly musky, intoxicating my senses. It was later than I usually arose, last nights passionate love making had taken their toll on my strength, I mused, a smile creeping along my lips as I remembered the rapture between us.
He was sprawled, lying on his stomach, one arm hanging over the side of the bed, and he still looked like the graceful angel that he was, even in this undignified position. In the darkness I could see the outline of his profile against the white pillow, ebony hair tangled around his face.
Slowly I reached out and ran my fingers delicately down his spine, his skin shivered beneath my touch, as he moved in sleep. Raising myself up I kissed where my fingers had been, gently brushing his skin with my lips. His breathing became quicker and he stretched languidly.
"Good evening, my love," I murmured, "this is your own personal wake up call."
He opened his eyes and rolled over to face me.
"Lestat," he chastised, glancing at the clock, "why did you let me sleep so late?"
"Want to play before breakfast?" I asked, flashing him my most appealing smile.
"After last night?" he said, the smile on his lips echoed in his beautiful eyes.
I brushed the mussed up hair from his face and ran my finger down the length of his nose. I saw the emotion burning in his eyes as we both remembered the love we had shared. Louis had taken the lead last night, quite unexpectedly, pinning me to the bed with one sudden movement. I was in thrall to his desires for the remainder of the night.
Ever since the episode with Raglan James we had become very affectionate. I think we both realised how close we had come to losing each other, and at the moment we were making up for lost time.
A small, warm sensation in my head; another vampire was calling to me. I growled in frustration, this had better be good or they would feel the rough edge of my tongue.
Then the images stampeded through my head, hitting me like a hurricane and flooding my brain. I was vaguely aware of the concern in Louis' eyes. I heard his voice somewhere in the distance and felt his arms around my body.
"Lestat, mon Dieu, what is wrong?"
The images slowly took on more coherence, melting into place like pieces of a puzzle. Pictures of one of us, sprawled in a foreign alleyway, blood streaming from his nose and the look of shock and anger glittering in his amethyst eyes.
Then I realised that the images I was receiving were not from Danny, but from the one who had hit him with such vehement force.
A fleeting glimpse of wide, dark eyes, tangled curls blowing in the warm wind sweeping through the alleyway. I felt a tremor as his despair and hurt coursed through me.
I turned to my lover.
"Louis, it's Armand, he needs me urgently, I have to go."
I studied his face as this startling news sank in. His eyes darkened slightly and I thought I glimpsed a hint of jealousy playing in the depths, a subtle flash and then it was gone. I said a silent prayer that this would not damage our relationship, even David had not come between us, although Louis had made it perfectly clear to me that he thought my actions foolish in making him one of us.
Armand's cry for help threatened to disturb our newly found peace. But I had to go, for Armand to ask for my help something was seriously wrong.
Louis pushed his hair back with one hand, a gesture I knew meant he was thinking hard. He pursed his lips as if to speak, hesitating as he read the turmoil of emotion on my face.
"Go to him, Lestat," he said simply, and then he added, "do you wish for company?" He already knew the answer.
"Thank you, mon bel ami, for Armand to ask my help the situation must be beyond his control." I voiced my thoughts. "Danny is young and full of unanswered questions. He also doesn't know when to keep quiet," I said, remembering heated discussions between Armand and himself on the Night Island. "I will go alone."
"Where are they?" Louis asked softly.
"In Venice. Armand has returned to the city of his mortality," I answered, trying to stem the unrest this caused me. A host of questions burned in the back of my head.
I kissed Louis gently on the lips, "keep our bed warm, my love, I promise to return to you as soon as I can."
I found Danny sitting on the ground in front of the great Baroque church of Santa Maria della Salute, built as a thanksgiving at the end of a catastrophic plague, which wiped out a third of the city's inhabitants. Now the city had three vampires in its midst, how many would fall victim to our curse?
His head was resting on his knees and his eyes were closed, but he knew I approached.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he said, angrily.
"Nice welcome, Danny," I answered, "now, how about some manners."
He saw the meaning in my eyes and looked away quickly.
I sat down beside him, watching the water lap against the wooden jetty.
"Tell me what happened between you and Armand," I asked gently.
Danny sighed heavily, raising his hands in frustration.
"It was all so stupid! He brought me here to show me his city, but he was so damned moody he never answered any of my questions. What happened to him here is finished, but he just wants to re-live it all again. I don't understand him, Lestat."
"A vampires memories can keep him sane, Danny. They remind him of who he was."
"But he hit me!" Danny interrupted, the shock still evident on his face.
I put my hand on his shoulder.
"You must have touched a very raw nerve, Danny."
Standing up I saw the panic in his eyes, as a red film engulfed the amethyst.
"I'll find him," I smiled reassuringly, "and try to talk to him, but I cannot promise you that he
will listen."
He wasn't hard to find on this warm, damp night, as the mist curled through the darkness. A solitary figure, standing on the little bridge that precedes the Ponte dei Sospiri, the Bridge of Sighs. It matched his mood perfectly.
Armand stood staring blankly out into the depths of the dark water. It seemed to me as if he was lost in his own thoughts; thoughts that were never meant to be shared, not even with his first born.
"Tell me, Armand," I said softly, "don't let whatever is choking you inside tear Danny from you."
A small movement of his head the only sign that he had heard me. Then his voice, detached and unhurried, but I heard the plea that raged through it.
"He told me to stop living in the past."
I waited for him to continue, as with one hand I lifted the damp hair from the back of my neck, letting it fall through my fingers. I had forgotten how sultry a European night could be.
Armand's hands held tight to the stone rim of the bridge. He hung his head and the auburn curls descended over his face, sealing it from mine. Locked tight too, was his mind. An immortal time bomb and the clock was ticking. I had to try to release his anguish.
Gently I placed one arm around his slender shoulder, fully expecting him to turn away. But he didn't.
His hair was damp against his neck too, dark tendrils clinging to the pale flesh. I longed to run my lips there, to tease the curls that clung with my tongue, to taste his skin.
'Do it then, I don't think it matters anymore.' His voice rang in my head. I obviously hadn't bothered to veil my thoughts.
I felt a shiver run through his body as my lips made contact with his skin. Pushing him against the bridge I trapped him with one hand on either side of his body.
Is this what you need tonight, Armand, to be dominated?
I sucked the moisture from his hair letting the damp tendrils play on my tongue, before releasing them into the night breeze. He raised his hand and tangled it in my hair, pulling me roughly to him. A quicksilver movement as he threw back his head and my mouth was on the side of his neck. I felt the pulse of his blood through my lips and the thrill of his near surrender flooded my senses.
Would he let me sink my fangs into his flesh, to lay bare his feelings as I drank his blood?
The steady pressure of his fingers in my hair gave me my answer.
Always one to savour the moment, I hesitated, and licked the side of his neck, long feline licks of contentment; but then he moaned my name in such a way that I knew he wanted this as much as I did.
Cleanly and deeply, with razor sharp precision I plunged my fangs into his willing flesh. For an
instant I held his blood in my mouth before I swallowed. The taste of him electrified my
emotions as with the blood came the images he had kept locked away for so long, images of his
mortal youth in this fair city, the only time true happiness had been his shadow.
The blazing sunlight pouring through the arched windows of a building, basking in the morning heat, and the sound of youthful voices raised in laughter. The opulent splendour of ornate marble pillars, glorious hues of amber and honey, rose and cloud grey. A beautiful mosaic tiled floor as far as the eye could see, polished and dazzling in the brightness of a spring morning.
This was the house of Marius, the artist, where Armand had lived in his brief mortal years, and the beauty of it made me want to weep. Such an intensity of brilliant colours magnified by the warmth and light, how Armand must have suffered when this was ripped from his grasp.
I felt Armand relax against me as I finished feeding. Withdrawing my fangs, I held him in my arms, turning him so we were face to face. The taste of him stung my lips, his blood so different from Louis'.
Like an addict I craved more and I wanted to believe he would let me take it.
He was weakened now and it would have been so easy to take what I wanted, even if it were the wrong thing to do. But after my experience with Raglan James I knew that goodness was the summit of a mountain I would never climb.
Admit you're a wicked bastard, Lestat, and get on with your immortality.
But Armand was from my past when I thought I could be this vampire with a heart of a saint; I owed him more.
"Do you see, Lestat?" he implored me softly, "what I lost I cannot forget. Daniel wants me to extinguish the only light that ever burned for me!"
He buried his head in my chest, and when his body trembled with release as the tears flowed, I held him tightly, whispering into his hair, "don't ever let it get this bad again, my love," and then, a pause as I contemplated my next words. Words that I found very hard to say, even when I truly knew they came from the heart, "I love you, Armand, I always have."
He raised his head and the sight of the trails of blood tears made me love him even more. His mind was open, no barriers between us at this moment. Delicately I wiped the tears from his face with my thumbs; then I held his head between my hands, running my fingers through the mass of curls.
I spoke my words, although with no barriers I could have simply placed them in his mind. I wanted to hear myself say them, to see if the guilt would alter the meaning. Guilt from coming from the closeness of Louis' bed to be by Armands' side; but this emotion died before it was born as the words spilled from my lips, "Let me love you tonight, my Armand, as only I know how. No promises, no lies, just the two of us finally together."
I saw a shimmer of fear dance in his dark eyes and sensed the panic of losing control to another, but then the need to belong drowned out that panic and he closed his eyes before saying, "let it be so, for the devil's road we will ride again tonight."
"Not here though," I whispered, as arm in arm we stepped down from the bridge. No words needed as he made the decision, and led me into the misty darkness.
Almost at every corner we were in each others' arms, under the ornate three spiked, iron lamp posts; crossing the many bridges that spanned the canals we found bare skin exploring with fingers and eager lips. We drew glances from the crowds, some disapproving, but it only added to the spice.
In dimly lit alleyways, a stones' throw from the tourist melee we pulled each other into corners and shared a chaste mouthful of blood, sometimes inches underneath hotel balconies.
At every opportunity I scanned for Danny, hurting him was to be avoided at all costs.
Our path led us to San Marco, where we sat outside Florians with the obligatory cappucino and listened to the string quartet reciting Mozart.
Armand sat close beside me with his hand trailing lazily along the inside of my thigh. More disapproving glances from the crowd, mostly aimed at me. With the soft glow of lust in his eyes and the despair gone from his face he looked incredibly underage. I basked in the stares of the crowd, Lelio playing to his audience, and how I adored to be in the spotlight again. The sexual electricity between us was there for all to see.
The solo violinist bowed to us as he finished his piece. Armand's fingers found the bulge in my jeans. Gently he kneaded my erection with his hand. I groaned outloud, locking my eyes with his I saw the preternatural spark behind his dark irises, and heard the sound of my name like a growl, emit from his lips, then a flash of fang in the globe light hanging from the stone arch. This was really pushing the limits of sensibility. Marius would have us both horse whipped, if only he knew.
Recovering some element of composure I took Armand's hand and led him away from the crowds. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched us leave. I could smell the arousal in their veins at the floorshow we had provided.
Grasping him around the waist I moaned into his hair, "I can't wait any longer, Armand, where can I take you?"
He filled my mind with a small, flat area on a rooftop, flanked by the Venetian characteristic red
tiles. This was the closest point to where Marius' art studio had been; now I had to help Armand
to lay the ghost of this city to rest.
Using his thoughts as my guide we sped through the narrow alleyways until finally we reached our destination; a decayed mansion slumbering in the darkness, a few hundred yards from the Rialto Bridge. Faded murals graced the exterior, ghosts from its once magnificent past.
Cradling him in my arms I rose into the night and gently down onto the stone bed he had chosen for our rendevouz.
"Hardly palatial," I teased him as I gazed around.
"It has to be here," he answered seriously.
"I know, my love," I said, sitting down on the edge of the rooftop. The warm night breeze lifted my hair and tossed it mischievously around my face. I unfastened the buttons on my shirt and removed it, tensing slightly as the delicious air caressed my skin.
He knelt down behind me and pulled me back until I was resting against him. For a few moments we watched the gondolas bobbing on the inky water, moored to their wooden jetty.
"I wanted to be a gondolier once," Armand's voice was heavy with sadness, "to make people happy and spend my life in this wondrous city. Marius said it was a waste of my talents," he laughed softly. "I tried once and apprenticed myself to one of them. When Marius discovered this he was so disappointed with me. It wasn't long after that that he made me what I am." Armand nuzzled into my neck as he slipped his hands over my shoulders and onto my chest.
Languidly he traced patterns on my flesh as the sound of his breathing became heavier. I took his hand and kissed his fingertips, one by one.
Seductively I placed one of his fingers in my mouth, rolling my tongue down its length. When he removed it I saw the moistness from my mouth glisten on its surface.
My need for him was immense, the time was right to begin our surrender to each other.
"Take off your clothes," I said firmly.
He turned his head to one side and a hint of a smile played on his lips.
"No," he answered, "you do it for me."
So the ball was back in my court, I mused. This was going to be the sweetest encounter.
Moving onto my knees I turned to face him. With one hand I ripped the shirt from his body, delighting at the sense of shock on his face. I raised the ruined garment in my hand, and with the next breath of wind I released it. In seconds it was a tiny rag floating on the waters' surface.
"Now it's your turn," I growled. With one hand I slipped down the zip of my jeans and waited for him to copy me. There was a wicked gleam in his eye as he realised my little game.
I flicked the button from the hole and pulled my jeans down so they rested on my hips.
Armand copied my actions and then waited for my next move.
As I drank in the sight of him my heart was beating in a frenzy. Kneeling beside me, like an offering at an altar, this demon child from my past; wild, dark curls blowing around his face, a cherub from hell.
My eyes slid downwards to his opened jeans. They rested on his slender hips, his skin glowing in the darkness. I could just see the flatness of his lower belly, to the point where soft flesh meets hair.
Swiftly I discarded my jeans and as he did the same my breath caught in my throat. I heard his voice in my head, 'you are the first one that will do this to me. Even Danny does not please me like this.' Then I saw the look of panic in his eyes as I took him in my arms.
"Armand," I made him look at me, " this is because I love you and because we should have been together since Les Innocents, but fate intervened." I held his trembling body tightly knowing that memories of his abused youth were pouring forth.
Let it out, my friend, then it will heal.
We stood before each other as the sultry Venetian wind kissed our naked bodies. I felt his mind lock into mine, like fingers running through my soul he probed and coaxed. I let him; my barriers were crushed.
My breathing was coming faster as he finally found that raw, moist centre of my mind, where my wildest desires and most hideous fears play together in constant turmoil.
I tried to repel him. Laying bare these feelings to anyone, would be total surrender.
"I have to know, Lestat," he sighed, "before I let you have my body, I have to trust you, to really know you." His hands were on my skin now, cool, but drawing fire in their wake.
Again he entered my mind and this time I tried not to flinch as he read my darkest secrets. Harder and harder he pushed, as gate after gate he crushed in his conquest of my thoughts. I fell to my knees as a blinding flash of pain told me he had found what he wanted. Two centuries of desire laced with anger, hate drenched in lust. I had wanted him since that night in Les Innocents, this filthy little coven imp, whose beauty had glowed under his rags and matted hair.
The tears were streaming down my face as I trembled violently on my knee before him. If he denied me now, I didn't want to think how violated I would feel.
He took my face in his hands.
"Oh Lestat, what a tangled web we have woven around us. Why is it we have to hurt and belittle each other when so much warmth and love exists between us?"
He brushed his lips against my cheek, tasting my tears, and buried his face into my hair, "love me, my prince, make me feel that one night in eternity we are as one."
Hungrily I found his lips, slipping my tongue into his mouth immediately. I explored every detail of his mouth, grazing my tongue on his fangs.
I could feel his erection against my leg and mine was pressing into his lower belly. Moaning into his mouth I pulled away. Only when I had made love to Louis for the first time had I felt this degree of arousal.
I wanted to take him roughly and dominate him completely, but at the same time I needed to love him gently and feel him open to me.
"Ready?" I asked him, my voice raw with passion. I had to have his affirmation.
"I'm yours," he whispered.
Positioning myself over him I eased his body to mine. Licking my fingers to moisten them, I found that tight ring of muscle and entered him. He tensed against me, "don't fight me, my love," I murmured. Only when he relaxed did I probe deeper, this time as he writhed in pleasure.
Whispering endearments in Italian I with drew my fingers. Then in one swift motion I slid inside him slowly, a whimper of pain coming from him, as his vampire virginity was surrendered to me.
And so I made love to my demon from the past, as his body trembled in passion beneath me. I was the gentle lover he had wished for, accommodating his small cries of pain with a caress, and raining kisses and bites of pleasure on his shoulders.
When it was over I possessively cradled him in my arms, stroking the damp curls from his face as he closed his eyes and dozed against me. We both knew that the next time we met the barriers would be raised between us once more, too much to lose if we dropped them again; too much hurt for our fledglings to bear.
Our children would never suffer because of our tryst.
"I want to tell you something I have kept a secret since my mortal days," his voice was slightly muffled as his head was turned towards my chest.
I bent my head and softly kissed his forehead, blowing the wisps of hair from his eyes.
"The gondolier who became my friend disappeared a few nights after Marius discovered our relationship. I believe Marius killed him because he feared I would join with Antonio. He was so nearly my lover, Lestat, the first one I felt safe with after my years of abuse."
Armand's face was animated with emotion, I knew he found it very hard to tell me these secrets from his past. He placed his hand over my heart, stretching his fingers as if to capture my every heartbeat. Then he locked his eyes to mine, "watch, Lestat and weep with me."
I gasped as Armand sent images of Antonio into my mind. Tall and blond, sunlight in his hair and laughter in his deep blue eyes. The image melted into a bedroom; dark red, silk velvet drapes hung at the window, heavy golden tassels coaxing the fabric away from the marble from which it hung. An ornate wooden bed with a sumptuous covering of silk sheets, and there, eating supper together, Armand and Antonio.
Armand's face was alive with happiness as he broke open a bread roll and ate hungrily. Antonio picked a ripe peach from the full fruit bowl and split it open with his knife, handing one half to Armand.
Armand bit into it, the sweet juice running down his chin, and then Antonio leant forward and gently brushed the juice away with his fingertips. He licked his fingers clean, the expression on his face clearly saying, 'I want you Amadeo.' The raw need in his eyes was something I had seen before; in my reflection.
Wrapped in each other's company they did not see the solitary figure that glided from the shadows. Marius; with an expression of pure jealousy and shock. The images stopped abruptly as Armand's laugh shattered the thread.
"So you see Lestat, it was only right that it had to be you tonight. I have this overwhelming attraction to blond men; Antonio, Marius, Danny and you." Such an expression of self condemnation on his face.
"Is that why it never worked with Louis?" I asked him, one of my many unanswered questions from the past.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Louis' passion excited me. After Claudia, I thought I could rekindle that passion," he hesitated before continuing, "and I was angry with you for deserting me. I knew I could hurt you by taking Louis. I don't even know if I really wanted him in the end, but he was yours, so I stole him."
No secrets kept hidden tonight.
"Do you forgive me, Lestat?"
I laughed softly. "Dear Armand, if I carried hate in my heart for every wrong that has happened between us, I would want to tear you limb from limb every time we met!"
He realised the truth and irony behind my words and smiled.
Armand turned his head back towards my chest. I felt his tongue lapping at the blood sweat on my skin. It sent shivers through my body and I realised that I wanted the intimacy of his fangs in my flesh. Only when I felt him pierce my skin was I content. His feeding was not ravenous, merely a constant suckling as though he was relishing my blood as a fine wine.
Finally sated he raised his face to mine. It brought a lump to my throat when I noticed his lashes were damp with tears.
"You have to find Danny and make your peace," I said reluctantly.
"And you must return to Louis."
We both knew the time was near for us to part.
"You wouldn't leave Louis for me." It was a simple statement, not a question.
"Even I can't have you both," I said with a sad smile, as we both began to dress.
From the darkness below I picked up another immortal heartbeat. Danny, a picture of dejection leaning with his back against the wooden jetty. He knew we were near.
I heard Armand's heartbeat quicken at the sight of his fledgling. He touched my arm and kissed my cheek softly.
"Thank you for giving him back to me. This city is my past but he is my future."
I handed him my shirt. "I think you may find it easier to meet Danny wearing this," I smiled.
As I put my arm around his waist and took him down to the ground, I held him a little too tightly just for safety.
I watched from the shadows as Armand walked towards Danny. Piercing the barrier easily around Danny I picked up a turmoil of emotion, anger, hurt, jealousy, a lethal combination even in a mortal. Carefully I homed in on the love and need he felt for Armand, coaxing it to the fore in Danny's mind.
I had come here to keep these two together. A little vampire match making was a new arrow to my bow.
Armand held out his hand and Danny momentarily hesitated before slowly touching it. Then with a cry Danny threw his arms around his maker and they embraced tightly. I heard Armand's soft words, 'forgive me, beloved,' and saw Danny's nod as an answer. He was too choked up to speak.
Reluctantly I melted back into the shadows. My steps led me to a deserted square, a few streets away from the Rialto. Decaying houses slumbered gracefully here, some adorned with flowers, others neglected and forgotten but still beautiful.
A little fountain bubbled in the centre of the square. I ran my hands through the water and splashed it onto my face, soaking my hair.
What was I trying to do? You might be able to wash the scent of him from your skin, Lestat, but you know damn well that he claimed a piece of your heart tonight.
I must admit to a small pang of guilt as I stood there letting the cool water run from my hair and down my back. I let the memory of this night play in my mind, of secrets kept and told, of passions finally unleashed.
It wasn't too much of a surprise when I noticed that my breathing had quickened. Even after the water I could still taste him on my tongue.
One final thing I feel I have to tell you, so you will realise how much this night meant to me.
As I left the square I picked a few deep red flowers from one of the window boxes. I re-traced my steps in the still streets until I reached the Rialto.
The water was dark and brooding as I tossed my offering onto its surface. I watched as they swirled and danced.
For you Antonio, and for your sacrifice.
Another young man with golden hair lost to the fangs of the night.
I would go home to Louis with another tale to tell him. After all he would expect it of me. I never went anywhere without creating some form of a story. Some details I may keep from him, for fear of hurting him too deeply. Louis would never approve of my 'one night stand'. He believes love is too precious to waste in a night of passion, that commitment nurtures love and vice versa.
But no-one would ever convince me that what I did with Armand was wrong.
Venice, the city of the winged lion. How ironic that the blond haired vampire named Lestat de Lioncourt, blessed with the power of flight had been unfaithful here. Fate had a cruel sense of humour.
Are some of you shaking your heads at my unfaithfulness to Louis? I suspect you are.
Live with it, my friends.
I will have to.
Beverley Lee
1998
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