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DISCLAIMER: The following stories are all non-profit, amateur efforts not intended to infringe on the rights of Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, David Geffen, Warner Brothers, Geffen Pictures, Knopf, Randomhouse, the city of New Orleans, the U.S. Consititution, any copyright holders that I might not have thought of or even a certain author who shall remain nameless but who has a set of initials which are, coincidentally enough, just one letter off from spelling "B.S."

Demons in the Dark Part 3, an After spec
by the Brat Queen (Louis) and Lady Black Death (Lestat)

Warning: This spec contains specific spoilers to Mick and Susie's version of Memnoch. It is *highly* recommended that you read it before reading this. This spec also contains language some may find offensive as well as sexual acts.


DAY FOUR

I looked down, seeing again Louis' sleep filled eyes in the oncoming dawn. But as my focus widened I saw we were in the courtyard. The sun dream! Again! But not like last time. No slow build up this - Louis mind had leapt to the heart of the matter. The sun was rising, he had but minutes before the burning began.

Louis turned his head slowly, his movements filled with pain. And as before, I heard his voice, ringing clearly in my mind. :Lestat! Is it that you can't find me, or is it that you will not come? I love you, Lestat, more than anything, don't you know that? I only wish I could tell you. I only wish I could see you. I would have that one wish, before I die, if I could have anything.:

I took a deep, calming breath, concentrated my will, and spoke. "Your wish is granted, mon cher."

In spite of the dawn, his eyes snapped open. "Lestat?" he gasped. "Lestat? Is that you?"

"Of course. You called me, I came. Do you think I could resist a call like that?"

"Help me Lestat!" He was hysterical, thrashing now against the bonds. "Help me! The sun! It's coming!"

"This is your dream, Louis. You can stop the sun, if you wish it."

He seemed not to hear me, and he doubled his efforts, the ropes at his wrists and ankles biting into the tender flesh, drawing blood. "LESTAT! THE SUN!"

The world dissolved in flame as he screamed.

--Louis--

I do not know at what point my scream ended and an awareness of my new surroundings began. It was not a complete change but rather a gradual one, so gradual that I was not even conscious of it happening until it was over.

That I was now vertical was the first sensation that came to me. No longer lying outside, waiting for the light of the sun, I was instead chained against the stone wall just as trapped as I was then, only now in a new setting.

A stab of fear tore through me as I remembered the sunlight. Why had there been no beginning to the dream? Why had I gone straight to the heart of it? Was this a new twist of horror for my dreams? Would I no longer be allowed the small relief of bracing myself for what was to come and instead be forced directly into hell? If so, how many moments would I be given before Juliano appeared before me, cursing me for Luis' death and driving his knife into my shoulder?

But even as I thought this, it did not feel right. Somehow I knew that this was not the same room that I had been chained in when that had happened, for all that I was chained in the same manner.

No, not even that. It was not the same manner. There were differences, subtle, but noticeable. Not entirely good changes, but neither were they entirely bad. It was almost as though some sort of barter system had been set up where for everything done that was good, an equal action was done that took it away. For a healthy, fed body, there were stronger, still unbreakable cuffs and chains. For removal of the dirt that coated me, the marks that had been made on me from all of the knives were as fresh as they could be without actually bleeding. For the warmth that filled the once-cold prison, I had no clothes covering me. And for relief from the sunlight, all around me was impenetrable darkness.

There was a noise, suddenly, and I realized that I was not alone in the room and perhaps had never been.

"Who's there?" I demanded, fearing that Juliano would be my answer.

"C'est moi, Louis," came the familiar-voiced reply. "C'est Lestat."

"Lestat?" For a moment hope surged in my heart. Then I remembered the 'Lestat' who appeared to me each time that I was left in the sun. I couldn't face that, not again. But neither could I deny that, like the room, there was something different in this as well. "Lestat, is it truly you? Is it?"

"Of course it is," he said, his voice closer now. And then I felt his arms around me and his mouth over mine and I knew that this was no vision. "I'm right here, Louis. I'm with you just as you want me to be."

"Why can't I see you? Lestat, why--" My heart began to pound. I knew that he was there, I could feel him next to me, but I could not see him and with terror I realized that the darkness around me was not because the room had no light, it was because I could not open my eyes. I began to fear that I had been wrong; for sunlight, substitute blindness.

"Shh," he whispered. "Easy, Louis, easy. Don't be scared. Just relax. Then you'll be able to open your eyes. Just relax, beautiful one. Relax."

He continued on in this manner until my heartbeat slowed back to normal and I found, without even purposefully testing it, that I could open my eyes once more. I looked up at him then, looked at the one who stood before me and at his gorgeous mane of blonde hair, his generous mouth and his warm grey eyes and knew that yes, this was my beloved Lestat. He was even dressed in a white silk shirt and black leather pants, an outfit which pleased me to see him in the most.

"Not just that, Louis," he said, as though he had read my thoughts. "This is a very special outfit. This is what you chose for me the first time that you and I ever did this. When the daylight did not tear us apart and we appeared to each other not just in flashes of pictures or emotions but as we really are."

"You mean, it is really you?" I asked. "You're actually here? You're real?"

He laughed and kissed me. "Oui, beautiful one. I am real. Well, as real as I can be, in a dream. And I am far more real than any of your nightmares ever were."

"Oh, Lestat," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. It was too much. To have gone from the torture of the sunlight to the warmth of Lestat's embrace was beyond comprehension and everything I had ever prayed for. I kissed him then, passionately and as though he was the very savior that I thought him to be. He responded in kind and I began to feel almost drunk from the pleasure. "Take the chains off, Lestat," I told him, speaking around our kisses. Reminded him rather. I knew that it was too much like him to get caught up in the idea of love making to the point that he would forget the obvious obstacles in his way.

"I will," he said. "Soon."

I laughed, thinking it a joke, and responded in kind. "No, my handsome one. You must take the chains off of me or else I will not be able to show you how very, very glad I am to see you."

"Plenty of time for that later, my love," he said. He kissed me harder still and it was only then that I realized that he had been serious. I turned my head away sharply, breaking the kiss.

"Lestat, take the chains *off*," I said again, making it clear that I would not listen to any argument.

"I will," he said. "Soon. I promise. But first--"

"No. There is no 'but first'. You will take these chains off of me now! Tell me that you will take them off now!"

Lestat stepped back from me, but remained silent.

"Lestat!" Still he did not respond. "Lestat, answer me! Why won't you do this? Why won't you free me? Lestat, please, take them off! I can't stand it! Take them off of me, please!"

I was babbling, I knew it, but my fear was unstoppable. The cuffs at my wrists and ankles seemed like living entities, holding me down, keeping me trapped forever in this dark, personal Hell. I struggled violently, like a madman, no longer conscious of what I did or said.

"Louis! Louis!" Lestat shouted. He grabbed me, pushing me against the wall in an effort to make me still. "Louis, stop it! You're only hurting yourself! Louis, you're hurting yourself!"

As though by magic, I finally felt the pain that I had inflicted on myself in my futile attempt to escape. Exhausted, I leaned against Lestat, pillowing my head on his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

"What's happening?" I asked him. "What's going on?"

"Hush," he said gently. "You're upset, that's all. You're scared, it's more than understandable."

"Is it?"

"Of course it is," he said. I felt him take in a slow, deep breath. When he continued, there was some unidentifiable difference in the sound of his voice. "After all, look at how you are. You're a prisoner. Those chains keep you from doing even the most minor thing for yourself. You are forced to be dependant on whoever is around you to take care of you."

There was a tightness in my chest. "Lestat, stop. Don't say anymore."

"Think of it, Louis, there is absolutely nothing that you can do. You're trapped. Completely, utterly and totally helpless."

I moved back, not wanting to touch him anymore. "Lestat, please. I can't bear to hear this."

"True," he said. "But you can't do anything to make me stop now can you?"

"Lestat!"

"You are dependant on whoever is around you and the one who is around you now is me," he said, He took my chin in his hand and made me face him. "I can do anything I want to, Louis. I could hurt you, leave you or even kill you and you won't be able to do a thing about it.

"And that terrifies you, doesn't it, Louis? Do you know why? Because you have no control. That's your greatest fear, isn't it? That's what this dream is about. That's what all your nightmares have been about. You're so scared of losing control that you'd lead yourself right into your own grave rather than give it up."

"That's not true," I said, but even I knew that I was lying.

"I can't let that happen," Lestat said. "I won't let you kill yourself this way. You can't keep your control forever, Louis. It will be lost, that is inevitable. That's why your nightmares have been getting worse, your control is slipping away from you. You have to give up that control and I'm going to make sure that it happens now, while I am here, and not while you're alone with no one to help you."

"No! I won't let you do this!"

"You have no choice."

"No!"

"Yes!" he said, shaking his hand a little to emphasize the point. "This will happen, Louis. But you must trust me. Why does it frighten you so much to depend on me this way? Don't you know that I would never hurt you? You must give me that power over you, but know that I would never use it against you!"

"You cannot do this, I will not let you do this to me! I do not want you to do this to me!" I began to struggle in my bonds again with an even greater effort than before. When this did not work, I tried to free myself enough to strike Lestat.

His response was quick. Within seconds I was pinned to the wall, my entire body held prone by him.

"You have it in you to like this," he said. "You wanted it once, remember? You were a young mortal man and I was the vampire who stole into your bedroom. You trusted me with your life, Louis. You trusted me with your soul. Now you must trust me again, my beautiful one. You must trust in me to take you to the very brink of your greatest vulnerability without ever letting you be harmed."

Any ounce of fear that I had felt was now replaced by anger. Hatred for him burned so hot within me that I shook from it. I couldn't even speak, though question upon question ran through my mind, demanding an answer from him. How dare he? How could he do this to me? How could he treat me as though I were nothing but a plaything?

And it occurred to me as I stood there, seething, that perhaps this was Lestat in his truest form. How like him, I thought, to have toyed with me all these years just as he would one of his victims. How very like him to have only pretended to care about me and to make me care about him so that his betrayal of me now would hurt all the more.

If I could have killed him then, I would have.

But Lestat took no notice of this. He waited to see if I would reply to what he had said. When I did not, he let me go, slowly, waiting for a reaction from me as his arms and hands slid back from my body. When again there was nothing, he continued to move his hands on me, but not off of me, choosing instead to move them over my body again and again.

I wanted, more than anything, to be able to say that he was manhandling me, but, in truth, I could not. From his gaze, it was clear that he was examining me, looking at the knifemarks that covered my body, although his touch was far from clinical. Rather, it was not unpleasant as his fingers moved in no particular pattern along my torso, arms and legs neither pushing nor caressing, merely touching.

It began to feel oddly comforting. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine myself being massaged by the very air around me, the gentle pressure sinking into my skin and washing away my pain.

My thoughts started to drift. Perhaps I had judged Lestat too harshly. Perhaps this was just his way of showing his concern. He had certainly done far clumsier things to our relationship before and gotten a much lighter sentence from me in return. But even these thoughts slipped away from me under Lestat's continued ministrations. To think at all would have broken the spell. It was far better to concentrate only on the feel of Lestat's fingertips as they moved in slow, soft circles along my skin.

Suddenly there was an explosion of pain. Lestat's fingers had settled on one of the welts on my stomach and pinched it, hard.

I cried out. "You're hurting me!"

He touched the spot and rubbed it, lightly. "That hurts, yes," he said. "But how good does it feel as the pain fades away? There can be great pleasure in pain, Louis. You have only to learn."

"I will *not*--" I tried to protest but he covered my mouth with his, kissing me despite my attempts to move away. I knew then that any display of my anger would only encourage him. I had to force my emotions down and maintain a semblance of calm. He was right, I was trapped and had no other choice.

When he saw that I was no longer going to speak, his hands resumed their travels over my body.

Knowing that I had to endure this, I tried to imagine myself as two entities. One was my body which took all of Lestat's attention, the other was my mind which I hoped to free within my own thoughts and make it something that he could not touch.

But this was not possible. The very moment that I was sure I had taken my mind far enough away from him, he pinched down on yet another knifemark. The pain drew me back instantly.

"Don't," I said, or something like it.

"Ah, but I must," he said. "These marks are healed on you now. It is only here that I have this chance. Don't think about the pain, Louis, think about the pleasure. Even now you can feel it, the sweet relief as the initial hurt fades away. Focus on that, Louis, and only that."

He started to caress me then, his hands more deliberate now as he stroked me, stopping only to pinch at the knifemarks or to nip at them with his teeth. Never hard enough to draw blood, only hard enough to hurt. The result of his earlier examination was clear to me now as not a single welt lacked for his attention. I began to feel that the entire front of my body was made up of nerves, burning, throbbing nerves, each connected to the places where Lestat's teeth or fingers had touched.

"Do you feel it now, beautiful one?" he asked. "Are you starting to feel the pleasure?"

He was close to me now, standing before me and looking into my eyes. I felt his hands move around to my back. He pressed his fingertips to the top of my shoulders, then raked his diamond-sharp nails down from there to my buttocks. I arched my back, trying to get away from the pain, but pressing closer to him in the process.

"Yes, I think I'm getting through to you," he said.

"No," I said. I shook my head in denial. "No."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked. Before I could reply he placed his hands on the back of my hips and raised me up so that he could kiss me. I did not fight him, but neither did I respond. He broke the kiss finally and regarded me with amusement. "This has no effect on you at all?"

"Don't flatter yourself," I told him.

He laughed, a warm chuckle. Taking a lock of my hair in his hand, he turned it around his fingertip, waiting until I watched this with my full attention, then bent his head to me so that he could press his soft lips to the spot just behind my ear. I gasped, feeling his fangs lightly prick the skin.

"I don't have to flatter myself, Louis," he whispered. "I know what pleases you, even when you refuse to admit it. And I shall go on pleasing you until you *do* admit it. I'll do it until you scream. Am I flattering myself now, Louis, or can you remember how many times I've done that to you before?"

I turned away from him, my heart fluttering in my chest, knowing that his words were true. I bit my lip to keep myself from giving him the answer that he wanted. I had enough willpower and anger left in me to do that. It was only my body that betrayed me.

Lestat's hands were on my arms now. He raised them up slowly, his thumbs pressing down on the large veins of my inner arm, into the curve of my elbow, then between the bones of my forearm until they reached the cuffs on my wrists.

"Such a shame," he said, moving his thumbs back and forth against the metal. "So close to those sensitive veins in your wrists, and yet so far."

He held the chains in his hands now and gave them a light tug.

"They're very strong," he said, then he moved his hands so that he could hold my arms beneath the cuffs. I tried to move my arms away, but couldn't.

"Strong like me, don't you think?" he asked. He nuzzled my ear, then continued, his voice soft as though sharing some secret. "And you do like my strength, don't you, Louis? You like the way I can hold you tight."

He leaned forward until his hips pressed mine back against the wall. He was so close to me now that I could feel the buttons on his shirt as I breathed. He smiled, then turned his head to whisper into my other ear. "Or was that hold you *down*?"

I dug my fingernails into my palms to keep myself from responding as his words further weakened my resolve.

"There's a unique pleasure in being held like this, isn't there?" Lestat had stepped away from me and was referring to the chains once more.

"Not that I can see," I said, deciding to try and channel my need to speak into times when I wanted it.

"Yes, there is," he said. "Think of it, Louis, when has your life ever been this simple?"

"Simple?"

"No worries, no choices," Lestat said. He ran his hands down my chest, using his fingernails to gently scrape the knifemarks and make them pulse with pain once again. "You don't have to do or think about a single thing, only lie back and enjoy what I am doing to you.

"It's the exact feeling that you give to your victims. They struggle at first, fighting for life. But then they realize that their struggles are useless. You are too strong for them, you control them. And once they realize that then there is only one thing that they can do."

"Surrender..." I said breathlessly, the word escaping me.

"Oui," Lestat said, kissing the hollow of my neck. "Surrender.

"I remember that moment with you, beautiful Louis. I remember the precise moment when I held you in my arms, your blood pumping through me and you gave yourself to me. You would have let me drain you until you died, so completely did you give yourself."

"I remember," I said.

"I knew at that moment that I had to have you," he said. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. I had to find you again, take you back from death. I wanted you to be my child and I your master."

This elicited another soft laugh from him.

"Master and child," he said, thoughtfully. "What strange words to choose. Why not master and slave?"

"Am I your slave?" I asked.

"Am I yours?" he returned. "I'm quite serious. I certainly feel like your slave."

"You do?"

"Oui," he sighed. He kissed me again, his hands stroking my hips. "You, Louis, are the only man who has ever made me feel this way. Feel this unstoppable desire to be near you, to have you be with me, to say my name, to touch me. I've felt that ever since I first saw you and it's only gotten worse. Mon Dieu, Louis, you bring me to my knees."

Saying so, Lestat did just that. He knelt on the ground before me, his hands around my waist and his head upon my stomach. My muscles twitched as his hair brushed against me. Lestat stayed like that, frozen, for a moment before becoming active once more. With his hands he kneaded my hips and thighs, all the while laying a trail of kisses that went steadily down from my waist, to my stomach and lower still.

"There's so much I can do for you here," he whispered, almost to himself. He bent his head down and I could feel his tongue flicker out, then find the tender spot between my leg and pelvis and the even more sensitive vein within it. I rocked forward slightly, unconsciously trying to move past the wetness of his mouth to his sharp fangs. I was nearly there when Lestat moved out of the way.

"Of course," he said, grinning up at me. "There are times when I feel that I am your master. Like now for instance. When I can make you wait in agony for me to give you what you want, what greater power over you can I have?" He stood up again, slowly, letting his body rub against mine as he did so.

"I've been wondering something, beautiful one," he said.

"What?"

"This outfit, the silk and the leather that you like so much. Do you like it because of the way it looks on me?" he let his hand move down his body to show it off, then pressed close to me again, shifting in place so that our bodies moved together. "Or because of the way they feel against your skin?

"Or maybe it's neither. Maybe you like to see me in silk because of how easily it moves on me." Lestat undid the buttons of his shirt, exposing his muscular arms and chest, then let the shirt slide off of his shoulders to fall into a puddle on the floor. I was breathing hard now.

"Do you want me, Louis?" he asked.

I'd been asked so many variations of this question that the answer came automatically to me.

"Of course I love you, Lestat."

"No, no," he said. "I didn't ask if you *loved* me. I asked if you *wanted* me."

"I don't understand," I said.

"I'm not talking about love, Louis," he said. "Love is beside the point here. What I am talking about is lust. Pure, carnal lust. The kind that burns deep within your body and leaves you aching for me. The kind that comes from your most primitive desires."

I moaned, wanting desperately to respond but still forcing myself not to. It was apparently enough for Lestat. His mouth was on me again as he pressed his lips gently to the very marks that he had bitten not long before. His hands, too, were kind once more as they caressed my back. I found myself leaning into this, enjoying the actions of love making which were so familiar to me.

"Kiss me," I said.

"As you wish," Lestat said. He took my head in his hands and began kissing me softly, first on my eyes, then my cheeks, then my jaw.

"No, kiss me," I said.

"I am."

"On the mouth."

"Soon," he promised. "Perhaps."

"Lestat!" my own anger at this was shocking to me. I felt a curious duality, one part of me still furious with him and wanting to drive him away, the other longing for him and needing him to come close. And for the first time, the second part was taking over.

"Shh," he said. He touched his index finger to my lips and kissed that. The feeling of his lips so close to mine was aggravating. "So beautiful," he whispered. With his free hand he teased my nipples, stroking them with his palm and pulling them with his fingers until I thought I would lose all reason. "So very, very beautiful."

I was shaking now, but no longer with anger. "Lestat--"

"Don't talk, beautiful one, just feel," he said. "Close your eyes and concentrate on the sensation of my fingertips on your chest, your neck, your lips. Concentrate on how it feels as I run my tongue along that very same path."

He performed all of these actions as he spoke them. My body was soon on fire, ignoring any attempt on my part to bring me back to reason.

"Think of how much blood there is inside of you," Lestat continued. "Think how long it would last when I finally pierce your skin and drain you, how long that delicious swoon would go on."

I was struggling now, my body twisting both in my desire and without my desire for it to do so. I couldn't stand it any longer. I was burning for Lestat's touch and could not get enough of it.

He kissed me then, on the lips, his tongue in my mouth. I responded, but in frustration.

"It's not enough anymore, is it?" Lestat asked. "My kiss alone won't do it anymore. It won't fill the ache in your body, will it?"

"No," I whispered.

"What will, Louis? Tell me what will."

In desperation, I pulled the last of my strength from inside of me and forced myself to be silent. He would not get to my mind, I was sure of it.

But Lestat already had my body and he knew it. The rest was easy. He knew what I craved and what I would have cheerfully killed for.

With his strong hands he tilted my head back. He ran his fingers along the veins in my neck, then his lips, then, finally, his fangs. I thought my mind would explode from the ungodly simple feeling of his pointed teeth moving back and forth against my neck. It seemed an eternity passed as he did that, each tiny movement sending me further into agony, exploiting my every weakness until I thought I would die from need of him, my entire universe reduced to his fangs, his mouth, his hands.

"Do you want me?" he asked, sending me into Hell just by moving his mouth far enough away from me so that he could speak.

"Yes!" I sobbed, knowing that my surrender was complete.

But he would not give me this satisfaction. He would make me humiliate myself for him even more.

"Where?" he asked, moving even further away from me. I was sure that I would pass out, so great was my need.

"Anywhere! I don't care! Just please do it, please!"

"Are you mine, totally and utterly? Mine to do with as I wish?"

"*Yes*!" I moaned, blackness swimming before my eyes. Suddenly I was falling forward, the cuffs chaining me to the wall snapped open and Lestat's fangs finally in my throat. I collapsed, falling to the floor just as the silk shirt had done, caring only that Lestat was on top of me, his mouth taking in my blood in swallow after swallow and sending me through ecstasies that were impossible to imagine and even more impossible to describe. I was lost, everything taken from me, my anger, my will, myself. And yet I didn't care. Not so long as Lestat de Lioncourt held me in his arms, my rightful place to be.....

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