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“You’re late.” Louis sat cross-legged on a plush hotel chair, the Sydney harbour shimmering behind him.
Lestat braced himself when he laid eyes on his immortal companion. The simple way he lounged, with relaxed wrists, gingerly turning the pages of the book that lay across his lap. Lestat wanted to lunge at him, rip the book from his hands, take his rightful place in Louis’s lap, not this inanimate substitute that he was made to fight for his attention.
“You said you’d arrive before I rose from coffin,” Louis said with coldness. “Come to find out, from Christine, you decided trashing your dressing room was more important than coming to me.”
A breath caught in Lestat’s chest when Louis’s gaze met his. Green piercing right through his damned soul.
“Well,” Lestat straightened his back, “they know what’s on my rider. They had horrible fluorescent lighting. You know it hurts my eyes, makes my makeup look all wrong...” He brushed a hair out of his face and crossed the room to Louis, letting his hip drop with every step. “Forgive me, mon cher.” He leaned over Louis, hands gripping the arms of the chair, his face mere inches from Louis’s. Louis’s lips, his beautiful lips, twisted into a mischievous grin. The type he was not aware adorned his face, or how beautiful it made him look. “I did not think how badly you wanted my cock.”
Louis scoffed. “Okay.”
Lestat studied the familiar lips that had explored every last inch of him, that had kissed him with more hunger and more tenderness than any other could. Lestat did not believe in fighting his urges, so he rushed to close the gap between them, but Louis tilted his head out of the way. It filled Lestat with rage.
“Beg.”
“What?” Lestat tried to keep his voice even, secure.
“You want me to forgive you, so beg.” Louis marked the page of the book and closed it.
With a roll of his eyes, he slid down to his knees, his hands roamed down Louis’s thighs. “My saint Louis,” Lestat breathed. He leaned his head on Louis’s knee and blinked through his eyelashes. If Louis wanted a show, Lestat would give it to him. “Owner of my heart, healer of my damned soul…”
Louis uncrossed his legs, forcing Lestat back. His firm boot pressed against Lestat’s chest. “Don’t touch me.”
“But–”
Louis raised a scornful eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Please, forgive me…”
“For what?”
Lestat rolled his eyes. “Louis!”
“For what?”
“We can fight about it later. I have been waiting as long as you have.” He reached for Louis’s thighs again. He ran his firm hands up them until his thumbs brushed against his balls over his pants.
“You know I don’t reward bratting.” Louis put the full length of his foot on Lestat’s chest this time and gave him a proper shove. Lestat was shocked by the force of it. He stumbled backwards, staring up at Louis. “No hands. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Lestat shifted back to his knees, dusting off his shirt. “It’s Prada.”
“Don’t care.” Louis opened the book up again and turned his attention to it. It made Lestat burn inside.
“Louis,” Lestat sighed, shifting closer to him. He ground against Louis’s foot and nuzzled his knee. “Mon cher…” He watched Louis, searching his face for the smallest crack. “We don’t have much time together as is. Let’s not spend it angry.”
Louis looked up from the book. There came the crack. He set the book on the side table and spread his legs. “Come.” He undid his trousers, pulling his hardening cock out.
Lestat nuzzled at Louis’s crotch and kissed over his clothed legs. He held on to the chair for purchase, but Louis slapped them away.
“No hands.”
He mumbled his apology as he mouthed Louis’s cock and tucked his hands in front of him. He pressed wet kisses to Louis’s shaft then swirled his tongue around the head. He moved to take the hard cock in his mouth, but before he could, Louis grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled him back.
“Who wanted whose cock.”
“I’m sorry, cheri,” Lestat breathed. “I mi–” but before he could finish, Louis filled his mouth with his cock, using his hair to move him up and down as he pleased. He bucked his hips up into Lestat. His cock hit the back of Lestat’s throat. It wasn’t a need for air–he didn’t, and human reflexes had gone by the wayside upon his transformation–but the suddenness of the thrust that had Lestat bracing himself on Louis’s legs again.
Louis pulled him back at once. “What did I say?”
“Sorry,” Lestat gasped.
“I don’t wanna hear it. Not tonight.”
Lestat put his hands behind his back, and Louis pulled him onto his cock again.
“Fucking teasing me for days,” Louis said as he guided Lestat up and down his cock. He hit the back of his throat with a wet sound with each thrust. “Posting all those photos of your fans with their hands all over you.”
Lestat garbled against his cock. He tried to apologize, but Louis was relentless. He moaned and mumbled, unable to get the words out. He sat on his hands as Louis commanded his body, and all he wanted was to embrace his love. It had been too long. It made his whole body ache with need.
“For weeks, I had to endure your empty promises, the texts, the video calls. All for you to decide to be a brat and be late? I thought you’d learned by now.”
No, he hadn’t. He hadn’t learned. Something burned inside Lestat. He could be better. He could learn. He could. “ ‘m s-” he tried again, but Louis held him down this time, pressed firmly against the curls that adorned his cock. Bloody tears streamed down his face.
“Why are you crying? You don’t need to breathe.” Louis bucked his hips against him, his cock digging into Lestat’s throat. “That’s right. You can take it.”
Lestat nodded. His every sense opened up to Louis, letting him guide him back, away from his cock. The tears had dried in two perfect lines down his cheeks. His lips were wet and swollen, and spit glistened on Lestat’s chin.
“Are you trying to apologize?”
He nodded.
“Let’s hear it.”
“I’m sorry, cheri…” His voice was hoarse and gravely. “Sorry,” he breathed.
Louis leaned forward. Lestat braced for a slap or for words even more cutting, but instead, Louis gently wiped the spit off his chin. “For what?”
“Making you wait, being a brat, a slut. For trashing my dressing room and making a mess for Christine.” Lestat rambled. He’d lost control of his own lips and didn’t know what apology would spill next. He could spend the rest of eternity apologizing to Louis for his every misdeed, and somehow, it would still never be enough. But Louis quieted him most easily: he kissed him.
In his time away, Lestat often wondered if he’d made up for the intensity of his pull toward Louis, but he was wrong. It was much stronger than he could imagine, than he could control. Lestat cupped his face, returning the kiss. And when Louis let him, Lestat thought maybe, just maybe, it’s the same for him. Even as he fought his instinct and tried to keep up this dynamic they had come to share, where Louis corrected all his misgivings, maybe Louis could also succumb to their pull, to the thrumming of his heart, beating in tandem with his.
But no. Louis slapped Lestat’s hands away. He ordered Lestat to stand, ripped Lestat’s shirt open, tossed it off his shoulders, undid his belt, made him turn, arms behind his back, and tied Lestat’s hands together.
“There, now you’ll remember your manners.” Louis rose from the chair and spun him back around.
Louis’s breath was hot against Lestat’s cheek. His lips were so close. Just mere inches from him, but Louis did not concern himself with Lestat’s want. He busied himself undoing the buttons of Lestat’s trousers.
Louis stroked Lestat’s cock over his underwear, a pair of black silken briefs.
“Louis,” Lestat breathed.
“Shhh…” Louis looked up, his green eyes shining in the dim light. “You’re going to make me cum, with just your cock, understood?”
“Anything for you, Louis,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
“Good.” He cupped Lestat’s cheek.
He leaned into the touch, letting his eyes close. This is all he had wanted, all he had longed for in the endless weeks they had been apart. He missed Louis so much. All of him. His love, his cruelty, his coldness… Lestat felt like crying at this show of tenderness.
Louis’s hand found its way into Lestat’s briefs. A gasp escaped him when Louis tugged at his length. His other, the one warm and lovely on Lestat’s cheek, moved down his neck, over his collarbone, and finally hooked onto the long necklace adorning his chest, drawing him forward.
“You’re going to watch me as I get ready for your cock.”
“That’s cruel,” Lestat snapped.
“You know what’s cruel? Weeks of your little messages. The videos of you playing with your cock, while I sat in meetings with ugly men in ugly suits, listening to their terrible business plans.” He tugged at the necklace. “You’re going to fuck me, and you’re not going to cum until I say you can. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about making people wait.”
Lestat tensed his jaw. He wanted to rip the leather belt off his hands. He could easily. He wanted to grab Louis by the waist and fuck him against the window.
Louis chuckled, reading the rage in Lestat’s eyes. “What? Are you going to behave for me? Or are you going to keep being a brat?”
Without a word, Lestat looked down, his shoulders relaxing. The alternative was too painful to imagine.
Louis kissed him again, chaste and loving. He savoured his reward as long as he could. He wished he could be like this forever. Lestat leaned into his touch, chasing the kiss when Louis pulled away. Louis instructed Lestat to remain standing, then disappeared into the suite's bedroom. Lestat’s jaw fell to the floor when Louis returned in just a jock strap that cut high on his hips, perfectly framing his thighs.
He hooked a single long finger on Lestat’s necklace once more and walked him over to the bedroom. He moved like a cat. His shoulders, usually hunched and shrinking, were now back and open with confidence. It was maybe the hottest thing about this new Louis. He had embraced all of himself, and yet somehow he still did not recognize the full extent of his power over Lestat, or the effect he had on others.
Louis stopped leading him three feet from the bed. These hotels and their large, plush beds. Lestat still found them quite foreign, but any bed with Louis in it was his home.
Louis climbed on the bed, making a show of settling on his back. He grabbed the lube off the nightstands, poured it on his hand, and massaged it over his fingers. He reached between his legs, past the cloth of his jockstrap, to his hole. Lestat’s mouth watered as he watched Louis rub his entrance with two lube-slicked fingers. Again, the anger that told him to break the restraints and say damn you to Louis’s orders threatened to spill over. It should be his fingers pleasuring Louis. It should be his mouth licking his hole. It should be his touch that draws each delicious moan from Louis’s lips.
“I haven’t played with my hole in so long,” Louis said with a sigh. His first finger pushed past the tight ring of muscle just to the first knuckle. “No one fills me up like you do.” His head rolled back as his finger pressed deeper.
“Putain,” Lestat sighed.
Louis added a second finger and bit down on his lip. “If you ever make me wait to use your cock, I will slit your throat again,” Louis said darkly.
Lestat was spellbound. “Desole,” he whispered almost unconsciously.
Louis added a third, making his face twist with pleasure. He worked them in and out of him carefully. He was a vision. Lestat was so hard, it ached. His balls were tight against his body, his cock begging to be touched. He needed to be inside Louis more than he’d ever needed the blood; no thirst could compare. Every movement of Louis’s hand was agonizing. It dragged on for what felt like centuries. Every second that passed that he was not inside Louis was torture.
“Please,” escaped Lestat’s lips. “Louis.”
Louis beckoned him, and Lestat was by the bed in a blink. Removing his fingers, Louis kneeled on the bed and shuffled closer to Lestat.
“What do you want?” Louis asked.
“You. Cheri, please.” He dropped his head on Louis's shoulders and nuzzled his neck. “I’m sorry, mon cher. It won’t happen again. Please, let me fuck you.”
Louis cupped his face and kissed him, more deeply than before. His tongue pushed into Lestat’s mouth, so he took it as permission to do the same. Finally, he got a real taste of Louis.
“Because you behaved so well…” Louis poured lube over Lestat’s aching cock and carefully spread it along the shaft. “You’re so hard for me, baby.” He squeezed Lestat’s cock. “I’ve barely touched you.”
He turned so he was on his hands and knees, still stroking Lestat’s cock behind his back. He aligned Lestat with his entrance and pushed him inside. Louis was so deliciously warm and tight around him. He needed more. He wanted to shove himself inside Louis forever. Instead, Louis took his time guiding Lestat’s cock into him. Louis let out a sigh as the last of Lestat pushed into him.
Louis rested on his elbows, breathing slowly, then began to rock back into Lestat, who could do nothing more than uselessly stand there.
“Move,” Louis demanded.
Awkwardly, Lestat rocked his hips forward. The position gave him no purchase or proper angle.
“I know you can do better,” Louis teased, and it made Lestat see white hot.
He sure could, if his hands weren’t stuck behind his back. His thrusts were erratic and graceless, but he hammered into Louis all the same, pulling low groans out of him.
He tried to flick his golden hair off his face, but it was no use. It stuck to his blood-sweat-covered cheeks and went into his mouth as he panted. If he were mortal, his muscles would ache from the effort.
“Please, Louis,” he begged, voice hoarse and deep. It was not enough. Not for him, and certainly not for Louis. He could tell in the way Louis’s hips rocked back onto him, seeking something more.
He leaned over Louis, pressing his forehead between Louis’s shoulder blades. He fought against his own strength, threatening to rip apart the leather belt at his wrists. All he needed was one word. “Let me hold you. Mon cher, I beg you.”
“Lestat…” Louis gasped, and against all odds, he was nodding.
With an ounce of his strength, Lestat tore his hands free from the belt. He snaked them around Louis’s body, holding him so close, he almost lay fully over him, his hips finally finding the angle they both sought.
“Fuck!” Louis whined and tightened around him, making Lestat nearly spill into him.
Lestat pressed a tender kiss on Louis’s back before standing back up with newfound resolution. He brushed his hair from his face, grabbed onto Louis’s hips, and pistoned into his prostate.
Louis let out the most devilish sounds. Little moans caught in his throat with every thrust of Lestat’s cock. His heart drummed against his chest, just as Lestat’s did, pulsing together.
Lestat’s fangs threatened to descend. But he could not lose himself. One bite and Louis would be cumming. He was being so good. He had to keep being good for his love. But the blood. Louis’s sweet, hot blood could be filling him.
Louis’s hands grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheets, hips pushing back against Lestat. He buried his face into the mattress. His face twisted with his growing orgasm. He let out a strangled noise as his body tensed and trembled in Lestat’s grasp. Ribbons of bloody cum painted the bedsheets as Lestat fucked him through the waves of pleasure, until Louis was pushing him away.
Lestat pulled away, his own cock aching to release. What a picture he had created. Louis lay wrecked on the bed, the stains of reddish cum between his legs, and his hole still exposed and open from Lestat’s cock.
After a moment, Louis recovered and turned, sitting at the edge of the bed. His expression was unreadable. Tired, satisfied, vengeful, Lestat couldn’t tell. Louis walked toward Lestat, and he braced himself for what could come next.
Louis wrapped a hand around Lestat’s cock and stroked it. Lestat shivered in Louis’s grasp. Could he grab his face, no? Kiss those sweet lips? Would that lead to another hour of denial?
“Come for me, baby,” Louis said. He presented his fangs, then bit into Lestat’s neck.
It all poured out of him at once. The blood flowed out of him and into Louis as he spilled all over the floor. He let out a moan that sounded like laughter. He grasped Louis’s bicep, pulling him closer as Louis drained him from both ends.
Louis licked the wound closed. “Don’t be late again. Next time I won’t wait for you.”
Lestat nodded dumbly. All words in English or in French were lost to him. Louis cupped his face and kissed him deeply. Lestat moaned into his lips, his own hands cupping Louis’s face. Lestat followed as Louis stumbled backwards toward the bed, until they both fell on it, never breaking their kiss. They were spent. Lestat felt light and floaty from the blood he had given, and the orgasm made his muscles heavy.
“I missed you,” Louis finally whispered when they pulled away.
The words hit him with the same intensity and sweetness of the first draw of warm blood. “You missed me?” He nuzzled Louis’s neck, peppering it with kisses.
Louis’s arms wrapped tightly around him. He was warm with Lestat’s blood. “Let’s not go this long apart again.”
“I would spend every last second of eternity beside you, my saint Louis, if only you would allow it."