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The stale scent of incense and old wood filled Lestat’s senses, a perfume he found utterly intoxicating. It was the smell of him. Of Louis. For months, Lestat had sat in the shadows of this very church, watching the devout Father Louis kneel, pray, and preach. He had slipped into his dreams in those same months, bending the priest’s thoughts toward temptation while he slept, whispering things Louis would never admit even to himself.
The snapping of Louis’s rosary beads pulled Lestat back to the present, his gaze fixed on the priest as he moved about the church. He was a vision of piety, his brown skin glowing in the candlelight, his deep brown eyes alight with a faith that made Lestat’s very essence ache with want. He wanted to corrupt it. Own it. Own him.
Tonight, the church was empty. Louis was alone, extinguishing the last few of the votive candles near the altar, his movements weary but precise. Lestat let his form solidify from the shadows, the click of his dress shoes on the stone floor echoing like a gunshot in the sacred silence.
Louis spun around, hand clutching the crucifix at his neck. “Who’s there?” he demanded, his New Orleans accent thick and wary.
“Bonsoir, Louis,” Lestat said, stepping into a sliver of moonlight streaming through a stained-glass window. He saw the recognition, then the fear, then the damnable denial flicker across Louis’s gorgeous face.
“You,” Louis breathed, his voice tight. “I’ve dreamed of you. I’ve felt you. I’ve told you to leave. This is a house of God.”
Lestat chuckled, a low, dark sound that seemed to suck the warmth from the air. “Mais je suis chez moi, chéri. God and I are such old friends.” He quickened his steps, closing the distance between them, his presence forcing Louis back a step until the altar rail pressed into his lower back. “He doesn’t mind if I play with His toys.”
“I am not a toy,” Louis gritted out, though his knuckles tightened and veins appeared where he gripped the wooden rail.
“Aren’t you?” Lestat said, his blue eyes gleaming. He reached out, not touching, just letting his fingers hover over the stiff white collar at Louis’s throat. He could feel the frantic pulse beating beneath it. “You are everything I want. My pretty little priest. So pure. All that devotion… I want it turned on me.”
He finally touched him, a single fingertip tracing the line of Louis’s jaw. Louis flinched but didn’t pull away. A crack in the armor. Lestat smiled. If he had waited a few more weeks, he could have had Louis come to him willingly. But patience was never his strong suit. And it was more fun to take what he wanted. To force him to surrender. Lestat slammed a hand around Louis’s neck, choking him, then ripped the crucifix from him with his other hand, crushed it in his grip, and shoved him backward, sending him crashing to the floor. Lestat was on top of him in an instant, his body covering Louis’s, trapping him against the hard floor. He had waited months to feel this close, to have complete control. Lestat’s smile was a wicked slash of white in the dim candlelight, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly luminescence that had nothing to do with God.
“Louis,” Lestat purred, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the church itself. “You look so pretty like this. A sacred offering to me.”
“Get off me,” Louis gasped, his voice strained, his hands braced against Lestat’s chest. The effort was pathetic. His strength was human, fleeting. Lestat’s was eternal.
Lestat just chuckled, a dark, rich sound. He captured both of Louis’s wrists in one hand after stopping his fists from hitting him in the face, then easily forced them above his head and held them against the cold church floor. He quickly grabbed something metal and bent it before twisting it around Louis’s wrists, then melted the metal in the floor to tie Louis down. Louis thrashed against the restraints, stopping only when the metal bit into his skin, drawing a small pool of blood. Lestat couldn’t help himself; he leaned forward slightly and licked Louis’s wrist clean. Lestat shifted his eyes downward to see Louis scowling at him. He bit his lower lip to stop himself from laughing. It was just… Louis was so adorable right now, like an angry kitten.
Still staring at Louis, Lestat caught Louis’s left leg before it could hit his neck, then his right just as it came for his side. His smirk widened at Louis’s startled eyes. He tightened his grip, savoring the way Louis winced under the pressure.
“Careful, Louis. I’m being kind. You don’t want me to be cruel now, do you? Keep this up, and I’ll break your ankles.” As if to make his point, Lestat pressed harder, drawing a sharp scream from Louis.
Lestat smiled with full teeth, savoring the sound. He’d be lying if he said he hated doing this to Louis. Sometimes, he had to be strict. After all, how else was he supposed to make Louis listen? And honestly, it hurt Lestat more than it did Louis. He only stopped when he thought he might actually break Louis’s ankles. He relaxed his hold and glanced at the damage. Louis’s ankles were badly bruised from where Lestat had held him. He could easily heal them, but the bruises looked so good on Louis, so he didn’t. Running his thumbs over them, Lestat’s eyes flicked to Louis’s face when he made a painful sound.
Louis was biting his lower lip, stifling most of the sound, but a few escaped as he breathed hard through his nose. He seemed to catch Lestat’s gaze and turned his eyes toward him. He settled for a glare, tears threatening to spill, and Lestat could see him fighting not to let them. He was actually impressed that Louis hadn’t started bawling yet. Most humans would have. Of course, Louis wasn’t like most humans. Still, that made Lestat frown. He really wanted to see him cry. It was a shame, honestly. He could already imagine how beautiful Louis would look crying, his long eyelashes framing those pretty eyes. He wanted to see it… wanted to taste it. Those tears would be so sweet. Everything about Louis was.
Gently, Lestat put Louis’s legs down on either side of him so he was positioned between them.
“Now, have we learned our lesson?” Lestat said, as if he were a strict kindergarten teacher. When Louis didn’t say a word or even make a sound, Lestat caressed his cheek. “Come on, you have to give me something so I know you understand. You don’t want me to give you another… demonstration, do you?”
Louis’s body stiffened beneath him. His nod was barely perceptible, but Lestat caught it all the same. The moment stretched tight, and the urge to kiss Louis simmered beneath his skin, sharp and unrelenting. So he did. He covered Louis’s mouth with his, ruthless and demanding, his tongue forcing its way past Louis’s lips to taste the sanctity within. Louis made a muffled sound of protest. Lestat could taste the faint, sweet residue of sacramental wine and something uniquely, addictively Louis.
When he finally broke the kiss, he saw Louis panting, his brown eyes wide and pupils blown. A thin trail of saliva connected their mouths for a second before breaking. “Say you’re mine. I know you want to.”
“No,” Louis whispered, his breath short and ragged. “Please, just leave me alone. I don’t want this.” A prayer slipped from his lips.
Leaning back, Lestat rolled his eyes and tuned him out already. Louis’s denials had been cute at first, but now they irritated him. He thought for a second about gagging him, but then he wouldn’t hear the sounds he wanted from Louis, so he dismissed the idea. Shifting his attention lower, Lestat used both hands to tear open Louis’s black clerical shirt, buttons scattering across the floor with sharp clicks. He exposed the skin of Louis’s chest, the neat small patches of hair, the tight peaks of his nipples. Lestat bowed his head and licked a hot, wet stripe over one.
Louis shuddered, a broken sound escaping him. “Don’t…”
“Shhh, Louis,” Lestat whispered against his skin, his breath hot. “Your body speaks so much more honestly than your lips ever could.” He took the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, nipping with just a hint of teeth. Louis’s back arched off the floor, a strangled moan torn from him. Lestat lavished attention on one, then the other, until they were pebbled and wet, until Louis’s protests had melted into ragged breaths.
Lestat’s mouth was a trail of fire down Louis’s stomach, over the crisp hair leading south. He made quick work of Louis’s shoes and socks, then took off his pants and underwear, peeling them down his legs and tossing them aside. Louis lay exposed on the floor, beautifully debauched in the house of his God. Lestat drank in the sight: the hard length of Louis’s dick, the tight clutch of his thighs, the nervous tremble that ran through him.
“Mon dieu,” Lestat breathed, not in prayer but in profane appreciation. His hands smoothed over Louis’s bare shoulders, then up to his throat. “So beautiful. All this beauty, wasted on a God who doesn’t fucking listen.” He punctuated the sentence by leaning in and biting the muscle of Louis’s shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make Louis gasp and shudder. Setting his spine straight, Lestat trailed his sharp nails up and down from Louis’s neck to his navel, not to scratch or draw blood, but to get more reactions out of him. There was a particular one when one of his fingers pressed down hard on the left nipple. Music to his ears.
“Stop.” Louis’s voice was strained and pleading.
“Stop,” Lestat taunted, kissing, sucking, and biting his way down Louis’s body. He nuzzled the inside of Louis’s thigh, inhaling the mixture of sweat, the faint scent of soap, and a tantalizing trace. He took Louis’s dick into his mouth without hesitation, swallowing him whole.
Louis cried out, his hips jerking. Lestat held him down, working him with his mouth, a ruthless, expert suction that had Louis unraveling beneath him. His tongue swirled around the head, traced the sensitive vein underneath, dipped into the slit. He reveled in the taste, the weight, the helpless little thrusts Louis couldn’t suppress. Mine.
While his mouth was occupied, his fingers cradled, groped, and teased Louis’s balls, drawing every reaction he could. When he felt Louis was on the very edge, he pulled off with a wet pop, ignoring the desperate, keening noise Louis made. Lestat grabbed Louis’s thighs and lifted them, pressing them against Louis’s chest. A low, amused murmur slipped past his lips as he muttered a few words under his breath. When he finally let go, Louis’s thighs stayed there, folded over him exactly as Lestat wanted.
Lestat didn’t waste any time. He spread Louis’s cheeks open and let out a long, appreciative whistle. What a pretty, pretty hole. He loved the way Louis twitched and clenched under his gaze. He could stare for hours. He wanted to. Oh, how badly he wanted to. But he had something better in mind. Leaning closer until he was inches away from Louis’s hole, he blew a soft breath against it.
Louis jolted, a shocked, guttural sound ripped from his throat. “No—”
Lestat didn’t listen. He feasted. His tongue was pointed and relentless, circling the tight ring of muscle, pressing against it, then spearing inside. He could hear Louis writhing, fingers scrambling for grip on the smooth floor, wrist digging into Lestat’s handmade metal handcuffs. His earlier denials were replaced by choked, wanton gasps. Lestat drank down every sound, every shudder, making him wet and open. As much as he wanted to spend all night or even all eternity just eating Louis out, he knew he couldn’t. He needed to get to the main meal soon. He could always schedule that for another time, tho. He pulled back, resting against Louis’s inner thighs and trailing slow kisses up and down. The tremors in Louis’s legs reminded him they were still folded over his chest. Huh? Lestat had completely forgotten about it. Straightening his back, he let the magic fade, and Louis’s legs and thighs slid back to the floor. Lestat caught the sharp wince, the way Louis’s toes flexed, and the quick intake of breath.
“God is watching…” Louis said, almost to himself, as if saying it could make Lestat stop.
“Si peu de foi.” Lestat traced his fingers over Louis’s adam’s apple. “Your God watches, and He does nothing. He lets me have you.”
Louis opened his mouth, clearly wanting to respond, but shut it again. The way Louis held back only made Lestat more amused. The silence hung heavy between them, thick with unspoken words and tension. He let his gaze fall back to Louis’s ass, a smirk tugging at his lips. He didn’t ask. He never asked. He just took. A slick finger, covered with the infernal lubricant he had summoned, pressed against Louis’s hole.
Lestat’s voice was low. “Relax for me, mon chéri. Take my finger. Show me how much you want it.”
Louis’s body yielded, swallowing the single finger deep inside him with a soft, wet sound that echoed under the vaulted ceiling. Lestat saw him shut his eyes, his body stiffening and curling slightly as every motion betrayed his shame.
Lestat groaned, a sound of pure hunger. “Putain, oui. Just like that.”
He worked the finger in and out, a slow, stretching rhythm that had even Louis pushing back for more. A second finger joined the first, the stretch a burning, perfect ache.
“Stop… oh, God…” Louis whimpered, fighting against him. His eyes opened, fingers scraping the floor again, and Lestat saw his wrists becoming more bruised and bleeding from straining against the handcuffs. Every flicker of tension, every twitch and clench in Louis’s body betrayed how much control he was losing.
Lestat added a third finger, stretching him further. “Which one are you calling to, chéri? He isn’t listening. He never does.” He leaned closer over Louis, letting his lips linger on each cheek and his forehead. “But I am always listening. I am always here.”
“Ah… stop… no…” Louis whimpered, his body shaking under him.
Continuing, Lestat scissored his fingers, twisting and searching, until Louis cried out. Lestat felt the shudder run through him at the sound, and he pressed on, fucking him with his fingers, relentlessly striking that perfect, maddening spot. Louis’s back arched, sobs spilling from him, and Lestat saw his dick leaking onto his stomach.
Lestat withdrew his fingers from Louis, satisfied that he had prepared him enough, and even if he hadn’t, it wasn’t his problem. Lestat’s restraint was fading.
With a snap of his fingers, his clothes were gone, leaving him naked. His dick stood hard and aching, the tip flushed red, a bead of fluid spilling over. As Lestat ran a hand through his long blond hair, his eyes flicked to Louis’s face and watched Louis’s gaze sweep over his body, lingering especially on his dick. That got a chuckle out of him.
“Oh, Louis. You’re making me blush,” Lestat said, lifting a hand in mock shyness.
Louis’s eyes widened, and he turned his head away, clearly hating that he’d been caught staring.
Lestat caught his chin, forcing Louis to look at him. “It’s alright, Louis. You can look all you want. I won’t judge you.” His grip eased, and he gave a light slap to Louis’s cheek, more teasing than punishing.
With a slicking thought, he positioned himself at Louis’s hole. Lestat pressed closer, savoring how completely Louis was at his mercy and feeling a wicked thrill at the thought of what he was about to do next. He rested the tip against Louis’s tight hole, letting the pressure and the shiver it drew from him feed his anticipation, and grinned at how helpless Louis looked under him.
“Tell me, Father. Did you pray before I came here tonight? Hmm? Did you get on your pious little knees and beg your God to save you from me?” Lestat leaned in closer, his lips brushing Louis’s ear before he licked and bit it. “How did that work out for you? Are you saved?” He pulled back, pouting mockingly.
Louis’s lips parted slightly, catching air in a stuttered rhythm, a soft gasp escaping him as he tried to steady himself. His eyes narrowed and locked on Lestat, jaw tight, and the scent of heat and arousal from Louis hit Lestat full force. Every subtle twitch and shift drew a deeper thrill through Lestat, who let his hands roam over Louis’s body, tracing the curve of his slim waist and the slope of his shoulders. He drank in the smooth lines of Louis’s skin, feeling the prickling along his neck and the tension in every muscle. Every inch of him was breathtakingly beautiful and entirely his. He rested his hand on Louis’s chest, right above his heart, and felt it racing.
“What’s wrong, cher? Feels like your heart’s trying to jump out of your chest. Why’s that?” He paused to pretend to think for a moment before continuing, “Is it because you’re going to give your virginity to me? Oh, Louis, I can’t believe how lucky I am to receive such a precious gift from you.” He went in to give Louis a light kiss, but pulled back quickly when he got bitten on the lips instead.
Louis bared his teeth, his eyes narrowing even more if that was possible as he spat, “I’m not giving you anything! You’re taking! You’re taking everything from me!”
Licking the torn skin on his lower lip with his tongue, Lestat was amused by Louis’s display. Oh, this was going to be good.
“Oh, how unfortunate,” Lestat said, his voice low, trying to sound like he actually cared as he pressed back in, rubbing his dick against Louis’s hole again. “If it makes it any easier, think of this as our wedding night. I certainly do.”
Lestat pushed in, cutting off Louis’s reply. He didn’t need words from him anymore. Only moans and gasps. The feeling was transcendent. Louis was a vice of slick, clutching heat, so tight that it was almost painful. Lestat sank in slowly, inch by excruciating inch, until he was fully inside, his body blanketing Louis’s, pressing him against the church floor.
He began to move. Deep, punishing thrusts that rocked into Louis’s body with each snap of his hips. The only sounds were skin slapping against skin, their ragged breathing, and Louis’s broken moans that echoed in the sacred space. Lestat fucked him with a single-minded intensity, each drive a mockery of the hymns that usually filled the air. He gripped Louis’s hips, leaving bruises, marking what was his.
“Please,” Louis begged, but it was a plea for more, not for mercy.
Louis’s resistance was gone. He met every thrust, his body pliant and desperate for more, his cries of pleasure echoing through the church. Lestat reached forward, stroking Louis’s dick in time with his thrusts, and that was all it took. He felt Louis’s hole clench and spasm around him. Louis came with a ragged gasp, his body clamping down on Lestat’s dick, milking him and pushing Lestat over the edge to spill inside him. After finishing, Lestat purposely collapsed over Louis for a moment, putting his full weight on him and reveling in Louis lying beneath him, slick with sweat and completely spent.
After a few seconds, he eased himself off Louis, savoring the tension that still trembled through him. He pulled out slowly, and Louis’s soft whimper at the sudden emptiness tempted him to go again, but he pushed the thought away. If he went for another round so soon, he knew he wouldn’t hold back. Easily killing Louis. And he didn’t want that to happen. Instead, Lestat ran two fingers through the mess on Louis’s stomach and brought it to his lips, sucking it clean with a dark smile.
“Heaven has no idea what it’s missing,” Lestat said. He leaned close, placing both hands on either side of Louis’s head, his lips just inches from Louis’s. “This is only the beginning, chéri. Now, I’m taking you home with me. Forever.”
Lestat kissed him once more, a kiss that tasted of damnation.