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Summary
Lestat was curled into a ball at the very center of the mattress, naked, and Louis tried and couldn’t find a single inch of his milky white skin that wasn’t tainted, that wasn’t bruised or stained or torn up. There were tremors going through his body and Louis couldn’t tell if he was awake or not, could only feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating irregularly, the sound meek and hesitant, like it wasn’t sure it wanted to go on.
Or, Louis and Lestat and the aftermath of the Fang Gang
