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It's not the first time Louis finds himself standing outside Lestat's home in Montreal. It's a beautiful house, three stories, not too big, not too modern, a couple of small balconies, brick walls of a lovely terracotta color.
The first time, Lestat had not been home, and he had waited outside for almost two hours before deciding to go back to his hotel.
The second, he had been too much of a coward to do anything more than stare at Lestat's silhouette through the window, watching him move through the house, sitting at the piano, painfully aware of being purposefully ignored.
The third time, Lestat had leaned out the window and silently thrown a bunch of shit into the street, attracting the attention of the few passersby still awake at that hour. Clothes Louis had bought for him during those first days after the hurricane, pieces of decor they had chosen together over FaceTime, sheet music for a song he'd been writing for him. And of course, a thoroughly abused copy of the book.
It's been almost fourteen months since that night.
He lets himself in using the key Lestat had given him almost two years earlier, still unused to this day. He remembers receiving the little package in the mail, with a little handwritten note attached to it, shortly after Lestat had bought the house. Back when they were still talking. Back when they were friends, almost something more.
He feels Lestat's heartbeat in his chest before he's even crossed the threshold, but he finds him by scent once he's inside, floral, earthy and sweet, following it through the living room, up the stairs and finally into Lestat's bedroom, the bedroom he has seen countless times through the screen of his phone, the bedroom that has been the background of endless conversations between the two of them, before… well. Before.
The overhead light is off, the only illumination coming from the bedside lamps and some lit candles on the dresser, casting a soft and warm glow around the room. Lestat is on the floor with his eyes closed, a soft tune coming faintly from the headphones resting over his ears. He's curled up on himself, his back against the wall, knees to his chest, sitting in a corner of the room, a corner he has turned into a comforting nook for himself. He's surrounded by some bunched-up blankets, and pillows, his trusted iPad sitting next to him, a book haphazardly thrown to the side, face down and open about halfway through.
Louis closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.
Lestat has never liked being an omega. He has always loathed the havoc it could wreak on his body, the stereotypes, the practical aspects of it.
If he's nesting, well… things have started to get bad.
He agrees to have dinner with Daniel. Only God knows why, considering how utterly furious he currently is at him after going against his wishes and completely overturning his life. Their last meeting, the one where he had announced to him that he was going to work with Lestat, had gone… not well.
He can't imagine what Daniel even wants to talk about today.
He regrets showing up before he even sits down at the table, seeing Daniel already waiting for him with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
He lets Daniel attempt some useless small talk for a total of three minutes before rolling his eyes, staring him down with an unimpressed look on his face.
"Out with it, what is it?"
Daniel stares at him for a moment longer before letting out a loud laugh, too loud for the very public and very chic place they are in, causing Louis to wince, briefly closing his eyes in frustration.
"Oh, Louis. Louis," he starts, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "How the fuck did you fail to mention this one little detail during our interview?"
He sighs, feeling a small frown forming between his eyebrows.
"What are you talking about?"
"Aaah, I wondered why you never talked about your status," he begins, an infuriating smile still on his face. Louis feels the blood turn cold in his veins. "But, you know, I figured it was 'cause it was fucking obvious. That's what I thought anyway."
He shakes his head, trying and failing to stifle another laugh.
"How could you never mention that Lestat is a fucking omega?"
He approaches him slowly, trying not to startle him, not to ruin the nice and cozy atmosphere Lestat has clearly worked hard to create for himself.
He crouches down in front of him, tentatively reaching his hand towards his shoulder, but Lestat's eyes snap open before he can touch him, and he hastily yanks his headphones off his head, throwing them on the floor before burying his face in his hands.
"Oh God, what are you doing here?" he groans, his voice muffled by his palms, and Louis feels a small smile spread on his face, his voice soft when he can finally bring himself to speak. God, he had missed him.
"Lestat, hey."
"Go away, I don't want you here."
He lets his hands fall from his face, and he leans his head back against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut as he takes a deep, steadying breath. He brings his arms around his knees, hugging them closer to his chest. Louis tries not to focus on the patch of wet fabric between his legs.
He tentatively steps closer, lightly grazing two fingers against Lestat's cheek, and he inhales sharply at the moan immediately falling out of his lips at Louis' touch, at the way his head turns towards his fingers, chasing them, capturing them in his mouth, sucking them hungrily before angrily slapping his hand away.
"Don't fucking touch me, I can't control myself right now."
"I'm sorry, I know, I know," he swallows hard, raising his hands before getting up on his feet and stepping back, trying to give Lestat some space.
He keeps his eyes on him as he goes to sit on the loveseat near the window. Lestat is pale, his face flushed, trembling as he forces some composure back to himself, his heart beating a bit too fast, his breathing a bit too intentional to seem natural.
"How are you feeling?" he asks after some moments, and Lestat shrugs, opening his eyes and making a point of staring at anything in the room but him.
"I'm perfectly fine."
"Lestat-"
"What do you want?" he snaps, throwing a furious look at him before averting his gaze again. "God, I can't even look at you."
Louis sighs, running a hand over his face. Lestat has every right to be angry with him. Louis has allowed him to be, for more than a year at this point. He has apologized, offered to explain, and ultimately respected his wishes by giving him space, leaving him be.
But taking him in now, his dazed expression, the way he's squirming in discomfort, he knows that if there ever will be a time to call for a truce, that time is now.
"You need help," he ends up stating, which only makes Lestat roll his eyes, and he picks his book back up, a performance of feigned nonchalance that Louis doesn't buy for even a second.
"I really don't."
"You're burning up. I can literally feel the heat emanating from you."
"I have two hands, and my trusted dildo-" he starts arguing back, raising his voice to speak over Louis.
"You're covered in sweat, your pants are soaking wet-"
"- and an Amazon Prime account I can use to order whatever toy I want."
"I could smell you from outside," he narrows his eyes, and Lestat scoffs, raising his gaze to glare at him.
"Oh please, you could not smell me from outside."
"You're in pain, Lestat-"
"I'm perfectly capable of handling a heat on my own," he yells, throwing his hands up in frustration, his book falling back on the floor. "Great, and now you made me lose my page, thank you so much Louis."
"Are you?" he asks, forcing himself to keep his tone calm despite his own annoyance. He's not going to blame Lestat for being a bitch while he's in this state. "How long has it even been? Did you even have one in all those years you spent starving yourself?"
They spend another minute glaring at each other before Lestat deflates, closing his eyes with a long sigh before pushing away from the wall and throwing himself down to lie on the floor, his dramatic fall cushioned by the expanse of pillows lying around him.
"Did Daniel send you here?"
"No one sent me, baby."
He winces as soon as the word is out of his mouth. He watches in dismay as another moan comes up from somewhere deep in Lestat's chest, as he squeezes his thighs together with a gasp, a red flush painting his cheeks before he can hide his face behind his hands again.
Louis tells himself he's not turned on as the fruity smell of the fresh gush of slick that just came out of Lestat reaches his nostrils.
"Don't fucking call me baby."
"Listen. Listen to me," he starts, gently, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees Lestat reach with his hand in between his legs, barely managing to stop himself, digging his nails into his thigh instead. "You need someone here, to help you get through this."
Lestat whimpers, a small frustrated sob getting out of his lips.
"Don't gotta be me," Louis concedes, even as his blood boils in his veins at the mere thought. "But you can't be alone right now."
"Oh, va te faire foutre, Louis, of course it has to be you," he sniffs, angrily wiping the back of his hand over his eyes. "I'm not letting anyone else see me like this. It's you or no one at all."
He can't help the warmth blooming in his chest at hearing the words. He can't help the smile spreading on his face at the knowledge that Lestat still trusts him with this, still wants him despite everything.
But it's not long before his brain kindly reminds him that he had preferred holing himself up in his house and trying to deal with it by himself to the idea of calling Louis to ask for help.
"Listen," he tries again, leaning forward in his seat, resting his elbows against his knees. "I'm sorry. I know this is not ideal."
"A euphemism," he grumbles, sitting back up with his legs crossed, tugging a blanket around himself to shield himself from the world, probably uncomfortable with this much vulnerability, or maybe in an effort to regain a modicum of dignity, as unnecessary as it is. Especially with him.
"I know this is the last thing you want to be happening right now-"
"It's fucking humiliating."
"-but it is happening."
He feels something like pity bloom in his chest as he watches him blink quickly, his eyes growing increasingly wetter and redder, swallowing hard as he tugs the blanket closer around himself with trembling hands. He really hopes it doesn't show on his face.
Lestat has been uncharacteristically… shy about this whole thing. Granted, he has never approached his heats in a particularly healthy or adjusted way. He remembers the carefully constructed bravado of the first couple of times, when Lestat had acted like vampires were above such human biological urges, like it was preposterous that anything should change between them during those days, that there was no reason that Louis should fuck him instead of the other way around.
He remembers his first rut, when he had realised that vampires were, in fact, very much still at the mercy of their own biology, and the absolute meltdown that had happened when he had called bullshit on Lestat's claims.
And he remembers the day Lestat finally opened up, the day the facade had crumbled during a particularly rough heat, when he had confessed through his tears how much he despised the loss of control over his body, how it brought back bad memories he wasn't yet ready to talk about, how disgusted he felt at his own neediness and vulnerability.
And during the years, Louis had learnt how to make him feel more comfortable, which words he should say and which words are better kept to himself. And Lestat had learnt how to let him take care of him, and almost came to enjoy those days of forced closeness between them.
Right now, it feels like they're all the way back to square one.
"I know you're angry-" he begins, and Lestat whines, interrupting him before he can even finish his thought.
"I'm not even angry, Jesus, Louis, I'm hurt, I'm-"
"Okay, okay. My point is, 'no one at all' is not an option right now. And I know you know that," he ends gently, knowing how difficult this is for Lestat, how he must be crawling in his own skin at the idea of letting himself go with so much baggage between them. He doesn't go to him. He needs to let Lestat make the choice for himself. "Come to me?"
He leans back, opening his arms with a small smile when he sees Lestat getting up from the floor, walking towards him with trembling lips. He climbs on the loveseat, straddling Louis' legs, throwing his arms around his shoulders before burying his face in his neck.
Louis brings his arms around him, a hand on his waist, the other gently stroking his back as Lestat nuzzles against his skin, pressing his nose just over his scent glands, his heart gradually slowing down as he inhales deeply.
"That's it, breathe," he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss on his temple."You're gonna be okay."
He sneaks a hand between them, reaching for the drawstring of Lestat's pants, pulling one end with two fingers to undo the knot. He reaches below the waistband with both hands, and Lestat lifts himself just enough to help him tug them down and finally off him, shivering and whining at Louis' touch on the bare skin of his waist.
"Let me kiss you?" he asks, and Lestat grips him by the shoulders, claiming his lips in a deep kiss, their first in almost two years, and Louis pulls him closer with a hand against his lower back, and then slides it down, squeezing his ass before reaching for his wet and aching hole, easily slipping two fingers inside.
"Aah- Louis," he moans against his lips, digging his fingers into his skin, desperately thrusting himself down on Louis' fingers. "Mmmhh, please, please."
"I got you. Gonna take care of you," he whispers, holding him steady with a hand around his waist, pushing in deeper to put pressure on his prostate, and Lestat clenches down, coming in hot spurts with a choked off moan he muffles against Louis' shoulder.
He coos in sympathy as he watches his dick, barely softening, barely giving him any relief, and he adds a third finger to his thrusts, massaging him slowly but firmly as Lestat starts rutting against his leg, a keening and desperate sound falling steadily from his lips.
"You're okay, you're okay," he comforts him gently, reaching under his shirt to stroke his back, and Lestat buries his face back in his neck, biting him gently with blunt teeth.
"I hate this," he sobs, and Louis feels his heart clench at the pain in his voice. It's hard, reconciling how insanely turned on he is right now with how much he despises seeing Lestat suffer like this.
"I know. How long has it been?"
"Four, five days maybe?"
"Oh honey," he winces, subtly speeding up his thrusts as he feels Lestat's cock twitch against him, the steady stream of precome warm on his leg.
"It's not getting better. I'm just so tired," he moans tearfully, the facade completely crumbled by this point, and Louis feels his eyes sting in sympathy for him.
"Hey, hey. You don't have to do anything anymore, yeah? I'm here."
He kisses his head, his cheek, holding him steady as he shudders through another orgasm, clenching hard around his fingers before collapsing against him, breathing heavily and fast.
"Have you been eating? Managed to get some sleep?"
"A bit," he nods, fumbling frantically at Louis' shirt with his hands, groaning in frustration when his trembling fingers slip over the buttons.
"Okay, hey, you're okay."
"Mmh, no, need to feel you, your skin, Louis-"
"You can rip them, I don't care," he pants, more than a bit affected by now, Lestat's saccharine scent coupled with the sweet noises coming from his mouth driving him completely insane.
Lestat doesn't waste another second, quickly ripping his shirt open with his hands, the clinking sound of some buttons falling to the floor reaching his ears, but he's still tangled in it, the sleeves annoyingly bunching up at his wrists. He has to take his fingers out of Lestat's ass in order to really free himself from it, and he captures his mouth in a deep kiss in the hopes of distracting him when he does, licking with his tongue into his mouth, swallowing his desperate whine at the emptiness he inevitably still feels.
He takes the opportunity to slip Lestat's T-shirt off as well, and then he slips two fingers back in, not aiming for deep now, but angling them outwards, pushing against the wall of muscle there, just below the rim, and keeping a firm pressure as he moves them in a slow circular motion.
He feels Lestat tremble above him, he feels his legs clench around his own, trapping him. He feels the slick dripping copiously from Lestat's hole, coating his fingers, he hears the steady keening hum coming out from somewhere deep in his throat.
It's good, this little trick they'd come up with, many decades prior. He knows it is. Stretching him out from the inside, simulating the pressure of a knot against the sensitive nerves in his hole. It's enough, sometimes, at least during the mildest heats, just enough to take the edge off when Lestat can't handle being actually fucked.
He doubts it will be tonight.
"Good boy Les, good boy," he whispers, guiding his head to his chest with a hand to his nape, adding another finger to increase the pressure when Lestat latches on him, sucking his nipple into his mouth. "Christ, baby, that's it, there's my good boy."
"Need you, Louis, please, I need you," he whines, his lips ghosting over Louis' skin, and he cards his fingers through Lestat's hair, scratching gently at his scalp.
"You got me, I'm right here."
"Mmmhh need you," he sobs, sounding desperate, increasingly delirious, and Louis guides his head back up with a finger under his chin, frowning in worry at the dazed and faraway look he sees in his eyes.
"Hey, hey."
"Need you to knot me."
"I know," he nods, swiping his thumb over his cheek to wipe away his tears.
"I have tried everything, mon cher, I swear, I can't-"
"Sssh. I know. I know."
He lets his fingers slip out, needing both hands to grab Lestat under his knees, prompting him to wrap his legs around his waist. He gets up from the armchair, and Lestat throws his arms around his neck, letting Louis carry him to the bed.
"Please make it stop," he sobs against his neck, and Louis lays him down gently on the mattress, his head resting against the pillow, and he bends his legs back, folding him almost in half before taking himself in hand, his dick easily slipping inside Lestat's warm and slick hole.
They both moan at the sensation, and Lestat hooks his legs back around his waist as Louis starts fucking him in earnest, thrusting deep and hard into him. He had forgotten, how maddening it can be. The unnatural heat, the ease provided by the slick, the scent.
He still has enough control over himself to slow down his thrusts when he feels Lestat clench around him, gasping and quivering through his third orgasm of the night, and then he's picking up speed again, kissing down his neck, his chest.
It's a while, he thinks, before he notices the way Lestat is crying.
"Lestat, honey," he whispers, cradling his face in his hands, slowing his thrusts down to a maddening grind.
"No, I'm fine, I'm fine, don't stop," he shakes his head, his voice breaking, circling Louis' wrists with his hands.
"You're crying."
"I'm always crying," he scoffs, a wet laugh that doesn't reach his eyes.
Louis frowns, leaning back to take a better look at him, sitting back on his heels and bringing his hands to Lestat's chest.
"Not like th-"
"Fuck you, Louis," he snaps, the blue of his eyes swallowed by the black of his dilated pupils, a panicked fury filling his gaze all of a sudden. "You show up here, you say you wanna help, fucking help."
He turns them over, pinning Louis' wrists to the bed with bruising force. "You don't get to leave me alone right now."
"I wasn't-" he shakes his head, his voice breaking on a choked gasp when Lestat starts fucking himself on his cock, planting his hands on his chest for leverage.
"Now that you're here-" he gasps, his hard dick slapping against Louis' stomach with every thrust. "And your body, and my body- mmmhh."
He brings his hands around Lestat's waist, letting him fuck himself to another orgasm, mere drops trickling down his abused cock before he's falling against Louis' chest, frantically apologising in a broken voice.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please, please."
"Lestat, baby, everything's okay," he tries to reassure him, bringing a hand to his hair, but Lestat turns his head to the side, gently grabbing his wrist, leaving a kiss to the bruises already blooming on his skin.
"I feel like I'm losing my mind," he sobs, and Louis brings both hands around his waist, supporting his back as he sits up and leans forward, pushing Lestat back against the mattress.
"Almost over, baby, it's almost over, I promise."
He starts thrusting again, hard, and fast, chasing his own release, and he's close, so close, feeling his cock starting to swell, his balls tightening as he gasps for air he doesn't really need.
"Bite me. Bite me," Lestat asks, his nails clawing at Louis' back, and he sinks his fangs in his neck, drawing his blood in deep pulls as he spills into him, the base of his cock swelling to trap his seed inside him.
Lestat starts crying again, a delirious laugh interspersed among his sobs, and Louis feels the weight of what they've done crash into him, the weight of the past months, the past year, and he finds himself crying as well, clutching onto Lestat, burying his face in his neck after licking the wounds closed.
"Hey. Hey. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you, I should have-"
"Shut up. God, Louis, shut up," he cries, growing angry again. "Can we just fucking have this, for a second? Can we have this moment?"
"You're so upset. You've been crying all the way through this, forgive me if I want to check if you're alright."
"No, I'm not alright, okay? Can you just let me breathe for a minute?"
He squeezes his eyes shut, knowing he should listen to him, he should, but he just can't, his mouth opening again before he even has the time to think, needing to fix this, fix this.
"I know you're angry with me."
"Oh wow, am I, keep telling me how I'm feeling, will you, it's not like you have done that enough already."
"Lestat-"
"No, no, we're not talking about this," he yells, shaking his head, but Louis shakes his head back, leaning back just enough to look Lestat in the eyes.
"Yes, we are. You can't keep running from this conversation. We're stuck here, literally, so we're gonna fucking talk about it."
He doesn't notice the increasing panic in Lestat's eyes. He doesn't notice the way his breathing speeds up with every word that leaves his mouth. He doesn't notice, not until Lestat pushes against his chest, hard.
"Ow, stop, Jesus Christ, have you lost your mind?"
He falls back, painfully pulling Lestat with him only with the force of his dick, and Lestat starts pushing again, on Louis' stomach this time, trying to get away in his panic, trying to disconnect them, only pulling harder with a frustrated scream when it obviously doesn't work.
"Lestat, whoa, stop, you're gonna hurt yourself," he tries to reason with him, wide-eyed and frantic, pushing firmly on Lestat's lower back to keep them together. "Stop, stop."
He doesn't let go, pressing hard, wrapping himself around him with his arms and his legs, until Lestat stops fighting, until he collapses against him, sobbing and desperately gasping for air.
"Okay, okay, it's okay, we don't have to talk right now," he says, keeping his tone gentle, something hysterical bubbling up within him as he realizes that Lestat is having a fucking panic attack while stuck on his dick. "Lestat, breathe. You're okay. You're okay."
"I just had the worst week, Louis, and this was the first moment of relief-" he wails, choking on his own sobs, and Louis blinks hard, his gaze fixed to the ceiling as a wave of guilt overcomes him again.
"I know, I know."
"Can't you hold me for a fucking moment without bringing up-"
"I'm sorry, you're right, I'm sorry. I can do that, of course I can do that," he whispers, firmly stroking his back, guiding his head against his neck. "Breathe. Drink if you need to. I got you."
They stay like that for a while, until Lestat finally calms down, until Louis manages to stop crying, until his cock softens, back down to its normal size.
"Want me to pull out?" he whispers, but Lestat shakes his head no, wrapping his arms firmly around him.
"How could you not tell me?" he asks after a while, his voice small, trembling.
"I-" he starts, swallowing hard, immediately realising what he's talking about.
"I don't even care what you wrote in there anymore, whatever, but how could you not tell me?"
He's asked himself the same question hundreds of times. One of their calls flashes back to his mind. The first one after he had learned about Daniel's intention of publishing the book.
He remembers Lestat, his soft and easy smile as he had excitedly told Louis about an electric keyboard he had ordered, which would allow him to compose with multiple instruments instead of having to rely only on his piano. He remembers the tightness in his chest, the way he hadn't managed to conceal his worry to the point that Lestat had frowned in concern, asking him what was wrong, reminded him that he could talk to him about anything.
I can't ruin this, he had thought. I can't do this to him.
"I was scared," he answers in the end, tightening his hug with a sigh. "You were doing so well. We were doing so well. Life was just starting to feel normal again, and I was happy, and I was so scared that telling you would ruin everything."
"…Louis"
"I know. I know it ruined it anyway. I know."
Lestat shifts, sniffling against his chest, and he whimpers when the movement causes Louis' soft cock to slip out of him. He soothes him with a kiss to his temple, pulling the comforter out from under them to cover them up when Lestat starts shivering against him, his body growing cold now that the heat has finished having its way with him.
"I'm tired," he whispers, and Louis nods, hugging him closer, pressing another kiss into his hair.
"I know, it's okay. You've been through a lot, you can sleep now, it's okay."
"No, I mean… I'm tired of this," he sniffs, leaving a small kiss on Louis' chest. "Of being angry. Being sad. Of missing you."
He closes his eyes, willing his voice not to break as he swallows against the lump in his throat.
"Oh, honey. I'm tired of missing you, too."
"You think we can start over? Again?"
He chuckles, nodding as a wave of hysterical relief fills him for the first time in months.
"Let me take you out tomorrow evening. You can tell me all about your new city."
"Okay. It's a date then."