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Lestat sits slouched at table in a hazy studio lounge, signing exclusive vinyls of his latest single with a silver, felt-tipped pen, so each copy can be wrapped up and shipped off to his most adoring fans.
A studio representative, a manager, a merchandise coordinator, and two record label assistants sit on plush sofas around the room, texting and vaping and gossiping as they wait for Lestat to finish up.
He pulls a new vinyl cover from the towering stack on his left, signs it, and places it into a large box on the floor to his right. Does this again, and again, and again, only stopping to shake out his wrist or take a drag of his cigarette, eager to return to Louis, who waits patiently for him in the dressing room down the hall.
The work is monotonous. But even from another room, his dear Louis keeps it interesting.
Beneath Lestat’s low-slung, slightly baggy black jeans, he's kept in chastity by a perfectly fitted, stainless steel cock cage, outfitted with a tiny heart-shaped lock that Louis holds the key to. He's been wearing the cage for one long, agonizing week, only taking it off to shower, denied all pleasure despite Louis teasing him nightly with his mouth, his hands, his words.
As if that weren’t enough, before they left Lestat's penthouse for the evening, Louis had surprised him with a gift: a sleek anal plug. Louis promised that if Lestat wore it, got himself stretched and ready, he'd uncage him and fuck him once they returned home.
Lestat agreed without a second thought. Went into the bedroom, diligently inserted it before they left. The car ride to the studio alone was thrilling—the bumps and vibrations of the road, the twinkle of excitement and lust in Louis' eyes as he watched him squirm.
But he's been at the studio for over an hour, and he isn't sure how much longer he can maintain his composure.
The plug is relatively small, stretching his entrance slightly and grazing his prostate. He bounces his knee, fighting the urge to grind down onto the toy, push it deeper and rub it against his sensitive spot. For once, the cage feels like a blessing, because his ability to get hard is hindered by the steel caressing his length.
Lestat parses through the studio guests' distracted minds, and thankfully, no one seems the wiser. Mostly, his team thinks about going home, and when their minds drift to Lestat, they assume he's jittery from impatience and drugs.
One of the assistants sucks on his blue-raspberry flavored vape, filling the room with a plume of sweet-smelling smoke before lugging over another stack of vinyls and dropping them on the table.
Lestat sighs dramatically, rubs the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. "More?"
"Last stack," his manager says.
"Why can't you just print my signature?" Lestat growls, anger coursing through his veins.
"It's worth more if it's hand-signed," the merch coordinator says, tapping away at his phone. When he notices Lestat glaring at him, he looks up and adds, "And it's more, uh, meaningful, or whatever."
Lestat groans and rests his head on the table, feigning exasperation, but really he's hiding his flushed face and pinched expression as his entrance clenches uncontrollably around the plug again. Precome leaks from the tip of his cock.
He didn't even want to come in tonight. These humans and their inane obsession with sales and numbers and merchandise are keeping him from Louis.
Lestat snaps his pen in half, drops the pieces to the ground. "I don't like wasting my time with such trivial affairs," he says.
One of the assistants scurries over to deliver a new pen.
"Look, just a few more and you're free to go," his manager placates. Her voice sounds distant, drowned out by thrumming bassline from the speakers overhead.
After recollecting himself, Lestat sits up, uncaps the new pen with his teeth, and resumes his marathon of signing.
As he loses himself in the tedium, his mind swims with ideas of what he'll do with Louis once the cage comes off. He thinks of all the ways he might convince Louis to have him in the studio dressing room, rather than make him wait until they get back to the penthouse—thinks about putting on a show of begging, getting on his knees for him.
Lestat reaches the final album cover. He signs it with a flourish, stubs out his cigarette in the marble ashtray, and shoots up from his chair. Winces, the plug sliding deeper into place.
His team begins to congratulate him on a job well done, but Lestat is storming out of the room before he can hear a word, practically knocking over stray employees in the hallway over as he rushes to the dressing room, his every move making him tingle with pleasure.
Lestat barrels inside his dressing room, quickly locking the door behind him and scurrying over towards Louis, who sits on a big leather couch against the back wall.
Louis slowly rises to his feet, smiling coyly. “How'd it go?” he asks, hooking his finger through one of Lestat’s belt-loops.
Lestat kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him. “Terrible, horrible, unbearable,” he says, grabbing Louis' waist and pressing against him in a feeble attempt to hump his leg. “Do you enjoy this? Torturing me?"
Louis smiles and runs his hand through Lestat’s hair, gathering it and pulling it back, tugging slightly. "Yes."
"Louis, unlock it," Lestat whines. "I did as you asked. I've waited all night."
"Supposed to wait until we get back." Louis releases his grip on Lestat’s hair and smiles.
"The plug, then," Lestat says. "Remove it. I refuse to walk out of here with an embarrassing mark on my jeans."
Louis nods and laughs, suddenly understanding. They both know it's very possible to orgasm while caged—Lestat had gotten a bit too excited his first night wearing it.
"Not even a please?"
Lestat kisses the shell of Louis' ear, down his neck. "Please, Louis."
"All right," Louis says. "On the couch, hands and knees."
Lestat obeys, stripping off his shoes and pants as he gets into position on the leather couch. Lestat chokes out a moan as Louis begins to fuck him with the little toy, sliding it in and out.
"Oh," Lestat gasps. His hips twitch as his tight, pink hole flutters around the flared base of the plug. "Oh, Louis, please— fuck me— just take the cage off and fuck me."
Louis' breathing gets heavier, but he doesn't say a word. Just slowly removes the plug. Lestat's hips lurch forwards, clenching around the sudden emptiness. He rubs two fingers against Lestat's stretched, lube-slick entrance, and Lestat groans so loud that Louis shushes him, but he goes on begging anyways.
"You can lock me up for another week after, a month, if you want," Lestat continues. "Just—please. I want your cock, I've been waiting all night, it hurts–"
"Fuck. Fuck," Louis says. "Okay. Come here."
Grateful for his mercy, Lestat nearly stumbles as he climbs off the couch and gets to his feet.
Louis reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a tiny silver key, and Lestat swears he’s getting harder, practically bursting out of the cage, moaning impatiently as Louis fiddles the heart-shaped lock.
Louis slides the little key inside the keyhole, turns it with a firm click, and it unlatches. The metal vice around Lestat’s length finally loosens, and he hisses in relief as Louis gingerly removes it. Blood rushes to Lestat’s cock, so fast it sends his head spinning.
Setting the cage aside, Louis cups Lestat's aching cock, watching as it grows to full hardness, angry-red and leaking, and nips and bites at Lestat's lower lip before they melt into another kiss.
Louis pushes him towards the couch, and Lestat finds himself on his hands and knees once again, watching Louis step out of his pants—and notices, fondly, that he's more than half-hard.
He joins Lestat on the couch, on his knees behind him, and is quick to rub the warm, wet head of his cock against Lestat's slick opening, biting back a groan as he grabs Lestat's hips as he presses the tip inside, then a little more, until he's fully inside.
Lestat reaches between his thighs and strokes his dick, slides his foreskin up and over the head of his leaking slit, enjoying the stretch of Louis’ stiff cock. He rests his sweaty forehead on his arms, rocking backwards in time to meet Louis’ thrusts.
“I’m close,” Lestat says, voice shaking.
"Yeah?" Louis hums, an amused lilt to his voice. "Hardly been a minute."
"It's been a week, Louis."
“Just hold it a little longer,” Louis says. “Wanna keep fucking you.”
Lestat hisses as he grips the base of his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm— but Louis is relentless. He grinds right against Lestat's prostate, making Lestat's dick twitch and leak precome uncontrollably.
He doesn’t want to disappoint Louis, but he's so pent up, his balls full and tight and aching, and he quickly gives in to the urge to touch himself again. As he strokes his dick, he feels his hole pulsing around Louis' length, his orgasm approaching like a wave.
“Louis, I'm coming," Lestat cries out, face pressed into the arm of the couch in a weak attempt to muffle his own sounds. “I’m coming, I'm coming…!”
“Yeah, fuck, s’okay, Les." Louis grabs Lestat's waist, holds him in place as he snaps his hips against Lestat's plush ass. “You’ve been so good for me—”
Lestat speeds up his hand, fucking into his fist as Louis' cock slides in and out of him, and he holds back a shout as he comes, so hard stars and black spots bloom in his vision. Louis growls into Lestat's neck, writhing as he revels in the sensation of Lestat pulsing around him. He pulls out just in time, coming in hot spurts all over Lestat's ass, right where he's wet and open.
And then Louis is pressing kisses all over his cheek, his temple, whispering lovely little nothings, his way of saying sorry for torturing him all night.
After a moment of lying in a pile on the couch, Louis wiping away the tear stain on Lestat's cheek, they begin to hear the murmur of studio life happening just past the door again, remember where they are, and peel themselves off the couch.
They clean up quickly in the dressing room's cramped bathroom.
Before Lestat zips up his jeans, he presents Louis with the cock cage, lock and key, cupped in his big palms, looking at him somewhat sheepishly.
Louis smirks as he adjusts his jacket collar, smooths out his shirt. "You like it that much?"
"Yes. It feels like I'm being held by you," Lestat says. "It reminds me that I'm yours, all the time."
"Good," Louis says.
Lestat's mind gets warm and fuzzy as he watches Louis gently place the cage around his soft cock, slides the heart-shaped lock through the metal loop, and secures him into chastity once again. Lestat thanks Louis with a deep, heartfelt kiss as he zips his jeans back up.