Missing You, Missing You More
Rating: R (Slash)
Lestat & Louis pairing
Disclaimers: The characters from the Chronicles belong to Anne Rice.
These stories are purely for pleasure and 'What if's'.
Nothing is meant to infringe upon the author's rights.
I am doing this for fun and I love sharing my stories with others.
I slip into the darkness, masked by the shadows of the dimly lit room and watch him read.
His eyebrows are drawn together in what appears to be a grimace. He is reading my book once again, and occasionally I see a tear in his eye.
His emerald eyes. Full of blazing emerald glory. They are like the moon above in their intensity. They sparkle alike the stars that accompany the moon in its endless nights.
His mouth, small and sensual, betraying so many emotions otherwise lost in his still face. As he has fed earlier, his lips are red in colour, a healthy human colour which complements the pale colour of his skin.
Ah, his skin. So soft and pliant and easy to love, and to touch. His sweet smelling skin, always a pleasure to fondle, to admire, to inhale his special musky scent.
His hair, a jet black wave against his head, rather like a storm at night in the raging sea. Masking the pure white face he looks nothing less than spectacular. He is preternatural beauty incarnate. He is my life, and he is modest enough that he never questions or has understood my devotion to him.
The delicacy of soul. That was the true attraction for my love, and I still see the vulnerability in him now. He is a little stronger now of course, age does bring wisdom in a strange combination of guilt and remorse. For him, he looks a little lost in this modern age. He is still wearing the fashion of his own time, an ancient relic which in modern parlance would be termed as "falling apart at the seams".
Ah, he looks up. He spies me in the shadows, but he says not a word. Absorbed in my story, he looks as if he is reading the Bible, his eyes focused so intently on every single paragraph.
I move away from him. Maybe tomorrow I shall come to him early and watch him feed. It is a beautifully calming event, watching him feed. Merciful death. Beautiful death. The death every mortal wishes, as he is kind and gentle.
I drift away, my eyes falling on the soft candlelight. He is so absorbed he does not offer me a goodbye, but I cannot blame him for his absorbtion. Louis is a personality not defined by mortal etiquette, even though his natural good manners transcend any breach of politeness.
He looks up. His eyes once again search me out from the shadows, the drifting figure in the corner, about to leave.
"Missing you" Louis beathes softly, his eyes red rimmed.
"Missing you more" I say back, whispering, before I disappear into the night, away from his probing gaze.