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The boy pushes him into the wall. Lestat feels a burst of pain expand through his head as it hits the wood, a slow smile spreading with it. He’s feisty this one, pulling Lestat this way or that, grabbing him with a little too much force, pressing against Lestat’s body until there’s no space left between them. Lestat likes him.
Him? Himself? Lestat’s not sure, but he’s not too worried about that right now, not with Young Lestat kissing and sucking at his neck like he wants to drain him without using his fangs.
Lestat tangles his fingers into Young Lestat’s hair. It’s longer than he wears it now, the boy’s golden mane reaching past his shoulders, just like Lestat’s was in his youth. Well, in their youth, he supposes. God, he’s still overthinking it, which won’t do. Lestat pulls from his younger self’s hair hard, and watches the boy’s head move with it, a soft moan escaping his lips, the curve of his pale neck bare in front of Lestat. Lestat thinks about biting him, but refrains, not sure of what he’ll see in the blood, if he sees anything. Instead, he brings Young Lestat’s head forward, clashing their mouths together.
The kiss is wet, very wet, partly because they’re both trying to get their tongues into the other’s mouth and control the rhythm of the kiss and partly because Young Lestat’s fangs are always down, which Lestat hadn’t realized at first. The proof of it lies in the blood that came out of Lestat’s tongue after he grazed it against the boy’s teeth with a little too much force, and that they're now passing mouth to mouth.
Besides that, the kiss is quite good, if Lestat says so himself. Their lips fit seamlessly, move together in a sensuous dance, both of their passionate souls shining through it. Lestat shifts the boy’s head slightly so he can deepen the kiss, slowly grinding against the hips pressed to his. He can feel Young Lestat’s smirk against his lips, messing the pace of their kiss, and Lestat bits at his plump bottom lip softly as he moves back, only letting go when he has to.
“What?” he’s breathless from just kissing, he’d be embarrassed if Young Lestat didn’t look just as affected. The boy’s so pretty though, with his violet-blue eyes and his gold, long hair and his strong jaw. Lestat doesn’t remember ever being that pretty, he was beautiful, yes, handsome even— but not pretty. This boy is taller and stronger than him, Lestat could feel it through his clothes, but he’s also gorgeous and so, so, so pretty. Lestat wants to ruin him.
Young Lestat bites his lip to contain a smile –right where Lestat bit him–, like he knows what Lestat is thinking, although Lestat knows that’s impossible. He brings his hand to Lestat’s face. It’s hard and cold, like a statue, but when he caresses the scar by the corner of Lestat’s mouth it’s gentle, silky against Lestat’s own malleable skin. They don’t share that scar, Lestat wonders what went different in their lives for that to happen, what happened to him for his flesh to be so firm. He hopes they’ll have time to talk about it later.
“I want to suck you off,” the boy states, his voice is steady. Lestat would believe him to be unaffected if it wasn’t for how fast his heart is beating.
“That’s delightful, because I want you to suck me off too,” Lestat smiles, tilting his head slightly to the right and raising his eyebrows, expectant.
Young Lestat rolls his eyes, snorting, but he’s moving to unbutton Lestat’s shirt immediately, so the effect gets lost. His pink mouth follows the path his fingers are leading, kissing and tonguing at each inch of skin revealed, worshiping the smooth chest with his mouth. Lestat lets out a trembling sigh, letting his head fall back against the wall again, and feels more blood rush towards his length. He knows the boy can tell too by the chuckle he breathes against his navel.
Lestat’s retort gets cut when Young Lestat bites him there, the boy’s tongue coming out to lick at Lestat’s belly button as he takes a little sip. Before Lestat has time to react, his hips caught between trying to rut into the boy’s chest and arching away from him, Young Lestat is traveling back up, leaving quick bite marks across his stomach. His hands are so tight around Lestat’s waist, his fingernails so sharp, Lestat cannot be sure the blood he smells is only coming from the punctures made by the boy’s fangs. Either way, the scent is enough to make his own fangs descend and his cock twitch.
His hands fly to Young Lestat’s head, now at his chest’s height, where the boy is drinking from a bite mark around his nipple. Young Lestat looks up at him, their eyes meeting in a heated stare, and smiles around his pec, his suctioning not even halting for a second.
Lestat tries to push the boy’s head down towards his erection, but the boy doesn’t falter. Lestat huffs and pushes again, “Get on your knees, ma belle.”
Young Lestat humphs, pulling away from Lestat’s nipple with a swift lick and a peck, “But we taste so good, you wouldn’t deny me a little taste, would you, Lestat?”
“Yes, I would,” Young Lestat tsks, making a big show of falling to his knees and sitting on his calves. “Don’t look so sad, I’m sure we taste just as good down there. Why don’t you try it out?”
The boy sighs deeply, as if he’s been entrusted with a tedious task, but Lestat can see the hungry look in his eyes, the slight sparkle in his sky blue irises. If he loves sucking dick half as much as Lestat then Young Lestat will have a blast. With the way his fingers shake as he unzips Lestat’s pants and struggles to get them out of his legs, Lestat’s willing to bet he does.
He’s a sight, the boy, wrapping his long fingers around Lestat’s thick cock, looking at Lestat through his blond lashes. He lets his tongue come out slowly, without breaking eye contact, and gives the tip a slow lick, humming contentedly. Lestat throws his head back in a moan, right hand flying to the boy’s hair, tangling his fingers in the soft mane and bringing his closed lips closer to Lestat’s dick. Lestat can feel him smiling against it, but before he can tell Young Lestat to get on with it, the boy quickly presses the tip of his tongue against his slit, catching the drop of precome that has started to gather there, and in one fluent movement he’s got Lestat’s dick inside his mouth.
Lestat’s breath hitches at the feel of wet walls enveloping his length, saliva pooling around him and contributing to the squelching sounds filling the room. Young Lestat is bobbing his head steadily, using his hand to twist at the base, his mouth inches closer to it with every move, like he’s letting Lestat get used to the sensation.
Young Lestat’s eyes are closed now, his lashes resting on his strong cheekbones, the expression on his face the purest depiction of pleasure. The boy moans lowly around Lestat, Lestat’s body shaking with the vibrations it brings, his legs almost buckling. Lestat’s about to comment on how much the boy’s enjoying this when he realizes there is another reason for his pleasure.
He hadn’t noticed it until now, but when he focuses on Young Lestat, he sees the slight rock of his hips, the undulating of his body and, most importantly, how the boy’s left hand reaches behind his back, in an action that Lestat can only assume is the boy prepping himself. Lestat’s almost disappointed that he won’t be getting fucked by this gorgeous Adonis, the picture of virility personified. Alas.
“Am I to assume we taste so good that you couldn't resist but to touch yourself?” Lestat mocks, his tone is cruel even when his hand caresses the boy’s cheek, pressing softly where he can feel himself through the skin. “Or do you just love the weight of a cock in your mouth that much, hmm? Are you really that desperate, ma pute?”
Young Lestat’s hips stutter, and he lets out a choked groan around his length. He tries to pull out to answer, but Lestat pushes him roughly again, his whole dick inside the boy’s mouth now. He can feel Young Lestat’s throat twitch around him, but the boy doesn’t move, just closes his eyes, swallows, and lets his whole body relax. Interesting. Lestat tilts his head, a mean smile growing in his face.
“Do you think you’re ready to take me?” The boy blinks his eyes open and looks at him, nods hesitantly. “Good, ma belle. You’ve done good, bringing me so much pleasure with your mouth. Now, come up here and give me a kiss.” he punctuates his words with a condescending pat to the boy’s head.
With shaky legs, Young Lestat rises up slowly and comes to stand in front of Lestat. He smiles coyly and brings a finger to Lestat’s mouth, who instinctively lets it open. Young Lestat pushes softly at Lestat’s bottom lip until he deems it wide enough and, with preternatural speed, spits inside.
Lestat’s eyes widen as he registers what just happened. The boy’s spit and his own precome sitting on his tongue suddenly, comfortably, like they belong there. Young Lestat just raises an eyebrow at him.
“Swallow, slut.” he taunts, closing Lestat’s mouth again with his finger. Lestat does reluctantly, frowning as he feels the mixture go down his throat. He hopes the boy doesn't notice how his cock twitches. “Oh, do not pretend like you did not enjoy it, sweetheart. You love it.” His hands don’t stop moving while he talks, gesticulating flamboyantly while he starts walking towards the bed. “I do!” Young Lestat says like that explains it.
Lestat guesses it does.
He follows Young Lestat to the bed.
Shedding his clothes along the way, Lestat observes him. He’s on his knees on top of the royal blue sheets, pale skin contrasting with his surroundings, waiting. Lestat takes in every inch of him, sees curls falling onto his shoulders, how his strong shoulders narrow into a tiny waist, the way his cock rests against his groin. The boy’s hung, Lestat thinks, and now he really is disappointed he won’t be getting fucked tonight, Lestat doesn’t think he’s ever taken one this big. Although, there’s always tomorrow.
Young Lestat —a vain creature like himself— preens under the attention, changing positions into his hands and knees and arching his back.
“Do you like what you see?” he’s fishing for compliments, Lestat knows this. Still, it doesn’t hurt to indulge from time to time.
“Oui, absolutely gorgeous. Not even the likes of Michelangelo would have been able to capture the beautiful lines of your muscles,” Lestat’s getting on the bed slowly, crawling around him, like a cat assessing his prey. “The strength with which you grab onto these sheets, impossible to replicate for the Tuscan master,” he continues, moving to stand behind Young Lestat. “The flush of your entrance, a shade he could only dream of creating.” He punctuates this by pushing two fingers inside Young Lestat, the boy moaning at finally being filled. When he brings them out, they’re stained red, which substance Young Lestat used to open himself clear to Lestat now. He takes them to his mouth. “Mhm, we really do taste exquisite.”
And with only a shrug to accompany Young Lestat’s whine at the feeling of emptiness, Lestat takes his own cock and guides it to the boy’s fluttering entrance.
“Wait!” Young Lestat exclaims, raising his head from where it had fallen between his shoulders. “I want to see your face when you enter me.”
Lestat’s about to move back so Young Lestat can turn onto his back when the doors to his bedroom bang open, the standing mirror he keeps in his dressing room following them until it’s standing in front of the bed. Lestat blinks at it. Huh.
“Okay, you can start now.” he says casually, as if he hasn’t just used the Mind Gift to bring an object from a different room to them. Just so he can watch Lestat fuck him.
No, so he can see both of them. Together.
“That is probably the hottest thing you’ve done so far.” Lestat says it with a joking tone, but he’s quite serious about it, he does find casual displays of power terribly stimulating.
“Oh, you flatter me, baby, but it’s really nothing.” Young Lestat dismisses, repositioning his bottom closer to Lestat. “If you want to see something really hot though, look up and get to fucking me.” Lestat does look up, meeting Young Lestat’s eye’s in the mirror, the boy blinking up at him. As an afterthought, he adds, “Please.”
And well, Lestat’s never been good at denying himself anything.
Without taking his eyes from their reflection in the mirror, gaze focused on the boy’s expression, Lestat steadies himself with his left hand on the boy’s hip while his other hand holds his dick as he starts pushing into the tight entrance. He wants to look down, see the way their bodies fuse into one, how his length breaches Young Lestat open, but he can’t. He can’t because he’s enthralled with the round shape the boy’s mouth has fallen into, with how his light eyebrows frown, eyes closed in ecstasy.
But, if he’s completely honest, Lestat’s also looking at himself. He sees the flex of his abdomen as he pushes in and the pressure with which he’s holding Young Lestat still. He notices how the same rose flush covers from their cheeks to their chests. He notices how their hair falls forward in the same manner, and how they both don’t bother to get it out of the way. And, once he finally bottoms out, Lestat notices how their bodies fit perfectly, how the warm walls of his other self hug his cock tightly like they don’t want to ever let him go. They paint a gorgeous picture together, Girodet’s wettest dream.
“Open your eyes, ma belle, you’ll miss the show.” Lestat slurs, voice deep and rough from trying to hold himself still.
Young Lestat does, drinking in their reflection slowly —his eyes roaming from Lestat’s body to his own— and lets out a loud moan, the vain creature, his hole fluttering around Lestat. It’s all the encouragement Lestat needs to start moving.
He goes slow at first, short thrusts barely sliding a few inches out, letting the boy get used to the sensation. He manages to find a nice rhythm that allows them both to feel every sensation, every drag of skin on skin, and savor every noise, the boy’s whines and Lestat’s grunts filling the air in a complex sonata.
In a moment of weakness, Lestat looks down and sees his cock moving inside Young Lestat. The stretch by itself is obscene, but it’s even more filthy if he lets himself focus on who it is attached to. His hips stutter in realization that he is fucking himself, his dick inside another version of himself, and he’s going slow. But he knows himself, knows how he prefers to get fucked, and he’s not making the most of it. So, he grips both of Young Lestat’s hips tighter, letting his nails puncture the skin there, the boy predictably whining at that, and starts moving again. Faster. Harder. Without fear of hurting the other his pounding shakes the boy forward, falling onto his forearms. It has the desired effect.
“Yes, fuck. I knew you had it in you, knew you could give it just right.” Young Lestat’s breathless, struggling to hold his head up but unwilling to stop looking at themselves in the mirror. “We look so hot together, don’t we, baby? You look so hot. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever been with.”
Lestat feels himself pulse at the words, pistoning his hips faster. He starts aiming at the boy’s prostate, familiar with its position he finds it instantly, Young Lestat’s answering cry confirms it for him.
“Thank you, you’re a close second yourself.” He winks at the boy in the mirror and drives Young Lestat’s hips to his cock hard to shut up the retort he sees coming. It works, the boy shuts his mouth and bites his lip, only a low whine escaping him. Lestat’s plan backfires when the boy starts clenching around his length, and Lestat feels himself close to orgasm much too soon. “Shit, are you close? Because I fear I am.”
Young Lestat doesn’t answer him, so Lestat moves to grab his dick and start stroking him. However, the boy is slapping his hand away and bringing his own to Lestat’s ass cheek, thrusting Lestat harder against himself. The boy’s reflection looks focused as he tries to grab Lestat firmer, his eyebrows burrowed tight until he manages a nice grip, and then his eyes meet Lestat’s and he smirks.
“Quoi? Ask what you want, ma belle, and you shall-” he’s cut off by his own moan as he feels a dry finger enter him in a too smooth movement to not have been previously performed.
“That’s it, baby. Don’t stop moving, come on.” Young Lestat purrs, curving his finger just right and pressing in that sweet spot, not giving Lestat the same courtesy to get used to the sensation he received. “You feel so good, good inside me and good around me. I can feel you clenching, feel you twitching. I want you to come inside me now, can you do that for me baby?”
Lestat can, and he does so in a silent cry, head thrown back in pleasure as he rides the shockwaves spreading through his whole body. His hips grind desperately as he spills inside Young Lestat, unsure of if they’re trying to move forwards or backwards. He can feel his hands absentmindedly clasping the boy’s hips tighter as he lets himself go, a faint scent of blood joining his own in the room.
It’s a few minutes before he’s able to pull out, black spots still plaguing his vision. His cock gives a last twitch as he sees his spend start leaking out of the boy’s ass. Dark red slowly staining the inside of the boy’s milky thighs.
Lestat falls down onto his back, intends to catch his breath before finishing Young Lestat off, but the other boy is already moving, jumping over him to sit on his torso. The boy leans down to kiss him, slow and deep, his tongue tracing Lestat’s mouth softly, almost sweet. He parts with a peck, his thumb caressing Lestat’s bottom lip, red and raw from biting it.
“Open,” he commands. Lestat frowns, confused as if the boy believes him dumb enough to fall into the same trap twice. Young Lestat rolls his eyes at his expression. “Don’t be obtuse. I haven’t released yet, and I want to do it in your mouth. So, open up.”
Lestat licks his lips, watching the way Young Lestat’s eyes follow the movement. He can feel Young Lestat’s dick, flushed and heavy, twitching where it rests on his chest. A bead of precome pooling in his sternum. He waits until the boy meets his eyes again —the violet of his iris almost consumed by his pupil— to open his mouth, sticking out his tongue calmly. Wet open-mouthed pants leave his mouth, a dog waiting for a treat. An invitation.
Young Lestat takes it, resting the head on the wanting muscle and taking a fist to Lestat’s hair as he takes it into his mouth to suck at it. Lestat lets it slip out so he can rub the tip against his lips, staining them red with the fluid coming out, and licks tantalizingly at the slit before taking the head back into his mouth. He’s only managed to get a few more inches inside his mouth as Young Lestat curses softly when he feels the hand on his head yank him closer and the boy’s hips thrusting hard.
Spluttering around the cock in his throat, Lestat tries to pull away, only to be stopped by the hand on his scalp. He looks at the boy standing on top of him with eyes wide, trying to gasp for air he doesn’t really need.
Young Lestat shushes him. “It’s okay, you can do it, just relax your throat for me.” He’s caressing Lestat’s face with his other hand, letting the back of a finger slide lower over where his dick rests. Lestat listens to him, swallowing tightly around him, so the boy can feel it on his finger. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing good. I’m gonna start moving now.”
And he does, sliding in and out a few inches so Lestat can get used to the feeling, groaning with every thrust. The slow pace only lasts a few minutes, and when Lestat finally feels like his throat has become accustomed to the stretch, Young Lestat picks up his rhythm. Driving in fast and hard into his throat, Lestat moans around him, thinking about how he’s never felt anyone reach so far.
Grunting and moaning over him, Young Lestat shakes at the vibrations on his cock, his hips growing wilder and desperate as he searches for his release. He won’t stop talking either, variations of “fuck, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me come” and “taking it so well, my beautiful slut, made for sucking my dick” coming between his many noises.
Lestat’s eyes have closed at some point, he can feel them filling quickly, blood tears accumulating on his waterline. He opens them again, looking at the boy undulating over him. Young Lestat is looking forward, probably watching himself fuck Lestat’s mouth in the mirror, and that just won’t do. Lestat wants to look him in the eyes when he comes.
Humming around the boy’s cock, lips stretched around the base, Lestat waits for Young Lestat to look at him, blinking in quick succession to let his tears fall when Young Lestat finally does. The expected reaction is instantaneous, with the boy cursing and releasing as soon as he sees the tears running down his cheeks. So predictable.
The boy has the decency to pull out when he starts coming, spilling on Lestat’s face instead, his fist working himself over as he trembles over Lestat. He shudders, the last of his seed falling on Lestat’s lips, and he sits back on Lestat’s chest, breathing deeply.
Lestat twists slightly to look at himself in the mirror. He’s a mess, hair tangled from where the boy yanked, thick lashes heavy with his tears, tinted faintly pink. There’s a mix of blood on his face, some his own tears, the other Young Lestat’s cum. He feels his spent dick twitch on his stomach at the sight. He turns back around.
“As much as I enjoy being covered in fluids, could you clean up your mess, dear?” Lestat flutters his eyelashes.
“My pleasure, monsieur.” He answers smiling, leaning over Lestat’s face.
Lestat tilts his own head, expecting a kiss, but instead he feels a wet tongue lap at his chin, his cheeks, his eyelids. Cleaning every drop of blood from his skin by licking at it, like a mother does her cubs.
When he deems his job done, he pulls away and brings his own fingers to Lestat’s mouth. They’re vaguely covered in blood too, Lestat tilts his head at him, confused.
“I clean my mess, and you clean yours.” Young Lestat states simply and, well, Lestat can’t really fight that logic, can he?
He laps at the fingers, moaning at tasting himself. Slides his tongue between them and kisses at the knuckles, slobbering on them until the only thing they’re coated on is his saliva. Young Lestat pulls a disgusted face and wipes them on Lestat’s bicep, but he kisses Lestat anyway, their spill mixing in their mouths as their tongues caress each other.
Sooner than Lestat would’ve liked, the boy is pulling apart and rolling over onto his back, sighing dramatically as he looks at the ceiling. Lestat hums in agreement.
A few minutes pass in silence, both of them gathering their bearings after what they just did, catching the breath they don’t need. Young Lestat breaks the silence.
“So… the second most attractive person you’ve ever been with, you said?” he questions, trying to come off as nonchalant.
Lestat guffaws at him.