Down below

Chapter 57. xxx

   Loki's eyes flew open, realizing that he dozed off. He looked around and didn't see Lestat anywhere. He got up and darted into the bathroom, afraid that the Marquis had fled while he was sleeping, but he found him lying in the tub, asleep. He grinned, thinking about how easy it would be to mess with him, but decided against it. Lestat was after all their guest and his informant, aggravating him wouldn't be very wise. Besides, he looked so angelic in his sleep in all his naked glory.

'Lestat.' he whispered, nudging him gently, but the vampire didn't move. 'You fell asleep. Lestat!'

   No reaction. He sighed and reached under him, pulling him out of the bath tub. It surprised him again how light he was, knowing the deadly strength his body concealed. He picked up a towel, throwing it around his body and carried him to the bed, laying him down gently. He dried him as much as he could and covered him with his blanket, then went back to the bathroom and stepped into the now cold water that he preferred. He washed himself, listening to every sound from outside, then brushed his teeth. He put on his bathrobe and turned the lights off, walking back to the dark bedroom. Lestat was in the same position he left him, lying on his back under the blanket. He lied down on the sofa, but it was way too small for him, so after some tossing and turning, he got up and went to his bed, climbing under the blanket carefully. He lied there, listening to the evening breeze dancing with the curtains, whispering secrets to each other. It was eerie how still Lestat was - he could barely hear him breathe. Inevitably, his thoughts drifted to that ominous night in the hotel, the insurmountable pleasure he experienced. He turned on his side to face the slumbering vampire. He thought about their last time together in New Orleans, before Lestat left to prepare for the annual meeting; the way he came undone under him after he managed to push him over the edge without drinking blood. He smiled when he remembered how Lestat tried and failed to sneak out of the bed the next day. For a vampire, he wasn't really stealthy although to be fair, Loki's arms were wrapped quite tightly around him. He wouldn't mind trying to get him there again however long it takes. He quickly shooed away the thought before he could get more turned on, lulling himself to sleep.

✧

   Lestat slowly came to his senses. He sat up, confused that instead of the bathtub, he was lying in a bed. He looked around. He was in Loki's bedroom, the prince sleeping soundly next to him. How did he miss being moved to the bed? Did Loki use his magic or did he carry him and why didn't his self-defense mechanism kick in, waking him up? He frowned. The only explanation he could come up with was that his subconscious didn't feel threatened by Loki which was a very dangerous territory and something that had never happened to him before. It made him question his own senses and even worse, his feelings. He lied back down, turning to face the sleeping Asgardian. It was still dark outside and utterly silent apart from the evening breeze playing with the curtains. He was staring at Loki with mixed emotions. He was annoyed that the prince could put him into bed without him waking up, it made him feel vulnerable, something he wasn't used to at all. He was also frustrated, because he could already feel his desire rising for him, despite his best efforts to smother it. Loki used him after all, insulted him, called him a whore, yet he revealed his identity to him. He never shared those things with anyone, ever, but it was so exhilarating to tell him. He wanted him to know who he was and now he wondered why.

He propped himself on one elbow, scanning Loki's face as if he could find the answers written there. He was irritatingly handsome with those thin, defiant lips that could hurt him so skillfully both physically and figuratively; his chiseled jawline and those elegant, sharp cheekbones paired with a long, thin nose that lent him an imperial look any emperor or king would kill for and painters would compete to immortalize, his raven hair flowing down on his shoulders, but Lestat liked his long, dark eyelashes the most. His gaze slid down to his toned arms and the breadth of his chest that was in stark contrast with his tantalizingly slim waist. He knew the strength running through that lean body, sleeping so peacefully just a few inches away from him and he wanted nothing more than to feel it one more time. He tried to stifle his desire, but the more he resisted, the greater the yearning became until he found himself leaning forward and kiss those inviting lips. He withdrew quickly, his heart beating in his chest like a war drum.