deathoftheauthor: (;88)
ʟᴏᴜɪs ᴅᴇ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛᴇ ᴅᴜ ʟᴀᴄ ([personal profile] deathoftheauthor) wrote2023-06-13 08:36 pm

the city | inbox

USERNAME: @louis
Louis de Pointe du Lac
The Vampire Chronicles

TEXT • AUDIO • VIDEO • ACTION • OVERFLOW
perfectdevil: (pic#16660809)

[personal profile] perfectdevil 2024-01-13 05:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Lestat is surprised to feel something like relief unwind in his chest, like a rope loosened from around his heart, the faint buzzing of static in the air lessened, soothed by Louis’ joy to have this tape exactly how it is. Lestat is such a proud man, always so focused on perfection now that he knows it’s attainable and now that his senses can pick up on how short any given thing can fall from being so, and perhaps he’d found it a little harder than he’s letting on to allow the tape to exist and be so unlike what he’d pictured in might be. He hadn’t expected Louis to pick faults in the recording, but he hadn’t expected to be so put to ease by his acceptance, either.

He smiles, the hand not wormed between the ribbon and Louis’ fingers coming up to bring his chin closer again, for another sweet kiss so earnest it’s as though through it, he’s trying to communicate some greater feeling without words. Whatever that might be. ]


I’m thankful you enjoy it despite its texture.

[ He kisses him again, more brief but just as warm, and lets his other hand brush over one of Louis’ knuckles beneath the golden satin wrapped around it. ]

And, I’m thankful you didn’t take my note for a tease. Though, come to think of it, are you really going to keep such a suggestive note as a keepsake? You better keep it away from prying eyes.

[ Okay, now he’s definitely teasing. ]
perfectdevil: (eighteen)

[personal profile] perfectdevil 2024-01-15 07:43 am (UTC)(link)
Hm, good point. I suppose we've stopped letting the world know our innermost feelings. For the time being, at least.

[ Even if Lestat has notes - mental and physical - for the next installment of the tale of his life, he's quite pleased there will at least be some aspects of their life together that can be his alone. He's not sure Louis would let him publish everything.

As Louis' fingers curls against his chest, Lestat moves the hand that isn't wrapped up in the ribbon to run along the lapel of the soft, silk pajamas. His touch is a little firmer than is necessary for someone appreciating fabric, clearly more interested in feeling Louis' chest rise and fall beneath.

He tilts his head, his nose sliding against Louis' until their mouths are a mere breath apart. ]


Oh, let's not call a rabbit a hare, Louis. You know damn well that I could write you something much better than that, given the opportunity.