Work Text:
The silk feels soft against the palm of Louis’ hand, rippling in tiny waves of champagne-colored sheen as he runs it across. It must have been expensive, custom made. Much akin to almost everything Lestat purchases for their house.
But such luscious sheets, such expensive fabric for a decoy bed? It seems like a lot, even for their standards.
They do look phenomenal and add a feeling of grandeur to the boudoir that did not exist previously. Louis turns his hand and lets the back of it run across them again, almost having to stifle a pleasured sigh at the way it delicately caresses his skin. He must ask Lestat where he got these and how much this fabric costs. It should line any coffin they’ll ever own.
“Do you like them, mon cher?”
Lestat leans against the doorframe behind the bed, proudly smiling upon his purchase and Louis, who continues to glance upon it in awe. He turns around eventually, hating to take his hands away from that most mesmerizing of textures.
“Incredible,” he mutters, “but why this bed? We don’t even use it”
Lestat hums smugly, as if he has been waiting on Louis to say something like this. He may as well be a veritable lion on the prowl, the way he saunters over to Louis, grabbing his waist like a sublime predator would close their jaw around their pliant prey.
“My thoughts exactly,” he replies lowly, his voice clad in a rasp that sends chills down Louis’ spine, “I thought: ‘My, my, what a waste’. Such a beautiful bed and no one to use it. So, I had these sheets made. As an incentive.”
The look on Lestat’s face tells Louis what he already assumed, or maybe rather hoped for, in the back of his mind, since he laid eyes on these sheets.
They are not for sleeping.
Louis lifts his chin up, looks at Lestat with an element of challenge behind his lowered lids. Lestat bought the sheets; he should make the move. The smile around the blond man’s lips grows deeper and his grip on Louis’ waist tightens.
“Take off your clothes, mon amour,” he rasps, “see how the silk feels against your naked body.”
Louis smirks. Two can play this game.
“Why don’t you take them off for me?”
Lestat tilts his gaze slightly, his smile growing ever so slightly incredulous, but not any less enamoured. If anything, the desire in his eyes only amplifies, accented by a low growl that escapes his throat and a shiver that passes through his hand and into Louis.
Louis knows his lover well. Knows all his buttons, all the little quips and looks and remarks he must make to turn Lestat into putty in his hand. It is a defence, as much as it is a weapon. Right now, it is a tool. A tool to make Lestat do whatever Louis wants him to.
The blond man goes to work at Louis’ tie. Louis is aware that any command he gives Lestat, Lestat will execute in the most irritating way he can think of. It’s all part of their game. Louis cannot lie, there is something to be said about this irritation, about how the gratification of finally getting what he wants is so much sweeter when preceded by it.
He revels in the way Lestat’s fingers brush against him. After years, every touch of Lestat’s still feels like hot water against freezing skin, like cold wine against a dry throat.
After a few more seconds of fiddling, the tie is off and Lestat’s hand pushes beneath the cream-colored collar underneath.
A careful gasp escapes from Louis’ mouth, taking flight between them and getting caught by Lestat’s own lips, that open in return, curling into a sly, open smirk.
Lithe fingers curl around the back of Louis’ neck as Lestat uses his other hand to unbutton the matching vest and shove it off Louis’ shoulders with a swift motion.
“So many clothes,” Lestat mumbles through an exaggerated pout, “you are cruel for putting me to work like this, mon cher”
“I like watching you get on your knees,” Louis muses as Lestat does just that, coming eye to eye with Louis’ waistband, “you look pretty”
A blush shoots into Lestat’s cheeks and his lips part slightly to let out a gasp at Louis’ gentle praise. He loves being called all sorts of things. Pretty, beautiful, handsome, lovely, sweet. He bathes in praise as others would in rosewater. He does not like admitting it, but Louis knows it to be a simple truth.
“Sit down,” Lestat softly instructs and gently pushes against Louis’ thighs.
Being reunited with the soft fabric against his palms, Louis smiles widely, sighing contentedly at the prospect of feeling it against his entire body so soon.
Lestat works at the ties on Louis’ shoes and takes them off, first the left one, then the right. Louis’ attire is fully fit for going out. In fact, he had just walked into the door when Lestat had immediately skipped towards him with his bottom lip happily caught between his teeth and saying: “Mon cher, I must show you something.”
His lover slides off his expensive socks, made from thin wool, and discards them to the side. He pushes his hands underneath the fabric of Louis’ pants and massages his calves.
“Don’t be putting wrinkles in them,” Louis warns, but the words melt into a sigh as Lestat works his skilled hands against the muscles in Louis’ legs. He cannot complain.
Louis lifts a naked foot and gently presses it into Lestat’s still clothed crotch, feeling a familiar hardness against the pads of his toes.
“Oh, Louis,” Lestat growls as Louis chuckles smugly, “you are terrible”
With a swift movement he is up on his knees and goes to grab Louis’ cock through his pants, kneading as his other hand undoes Louis’ pants quickly, with expert fingers and terrifying speed.
Louis doesn’t want to moan, not yet, he does not want to give Lestat that satisfaction, so he grunts, against closed lips and furrows his brow in pleasure, before his mouth falls open into a gasp. Not before long though, he has found his composure again and releases a breathy laugh. His tongue darts out and licks against Lestat’s top lip, quickly, teasingly.
“You like that don’t you?” Louis asks, “when I put my foot on your big cock.”
A low hum fights its way up his throat as Lestat keeps kneading, slowly, deliberately and leans forward to press a chaste kiss to Louis’ lips.
“I like all the things you do to me, Louis,” he all but whispers, “now tell me what to do to you”
Oh, this is something Louis likes. He will have a fabulous evening.
“Help me out of these pants and my shirt,” he says earnestly and adds in a playful tone, “and then I’d like to lay back and watch you undress, mon cher. Watch how hard you can get from just lookin’ at me.”
“You want to torture me tonight, yes?” Lestat gasps against Louis’ lips as he obeys his orders, pulling pants, shirt and underwear off Louis until he lays on top of the sheets completely naked, “I am all yours”
Louis smiles and lets his body drop back onto the warm silk, moaning aloud as he feels the softness of the fabric against the skin on his backside, his legs and his shoulders.
“I should be jealous of these sheets,” Lestat smirks as he unbuttons his own pants and slides them down, “that they are able to draw such sounds from you.”
Louis rolls over on his stomach because he must know, he just has to.
“Oh, God,” he sighs, almost ecstatic, as he feels the silk against his straining cock, “oh, that feels amazing. We’ll ruin them, won’t we?”
Lestat’s breath is already coming out laboriously by the time he slides off his shirt and then his own underwear.
“Do not worry about it, cheri,” he says and clambers onto the bed, “we will buy new ones. If you love them so much.”
Louis rolls over like a happy cat and stretches out on the bed.
“I do,” he sighs dreamily, “Never felt anything like this.”
Lestat smiles proudly and takes Louis’ face into his hands once more to catch the two of them in a deep kiss. Louis gasps against his lover’s wide mouth and gently pries those luscious lips open with a teasing tongue. Lestat’s lips against his and this heavenly fabric against his skin. It is all he could ever want.
But he also cannot ignore the aching in his cock, the way it stands between their kneeling bodies, filled to the brim with hot, blood and aching to be touched.
“Lay back,” Lestat purrs and nips and pulls at Louis’ ear, pressing a kiss here and scraping his fangs against the skin of Louis’ neck there, “I’ll make you feel good”
The words sound in Louis ears like a symphony, drowning out all that is not Lestat, in this bed, in this moment. He appears to Louis like a saint, like a golden-haired angel who has come to take him in his arms.
Bloodshot lips, glistening with a sheen of Louis’ saliva, that most sensuous of scars, running from Lestat’s mouth to his cheek, deepening with every time that he smiles. Eyes that soften whenever they fall on Louis, lips parting when Louis speaks. Lestat adores him. It exhilarates Louis, more than anything else ever could.
He obliges, letting himself fall slowly backwards against the large, plush pillows that they never use.
Lestat is a vision in front of him, kneeling on the bed in all his naked glory, cock standing up proudly between muscular thighs with a healthy coat of hair spanning from the base of his cock, where it grows thick and rich, and down his legs, eventually thinning out around his knees and thickening again towards the lower end of his calves.
This is no unfamiliar sight, but every time feels like the first. Especially when Lestat is basked in a light such as this. Warm and soft, only amplified by the warm shimmer of the sheets.
“You’re drooling, mon cher,” Lestat chuckles and leans forward until he kneels above Louis on all fours.
“Am I?” Louis rasps and wipes at the corner of his mouth, picking up the blood-tinged spit and pressing his fingers against Lestat’s bottom lip. There is no hesitation in the way Lestat hungrily takes it into his mouth and runs his tongue against it.
Louis smiles and withdraws his finger again.
“Taste good?”
Lestat does not answer. Instead, he leans his head forward and once again presses his fervent lips against Louis’, kissing him with a hunger that leaves Louis gasping into him, digging his nails into Lestat’s back and pulling him closer until their cocks press against each other.
“Oh, fuck,” Lestat gasps as he pulls away to regain his composure, “oooh, mon cher,… my Louis”
The arousal coursing through Louis’ body is almost unbearable. He could beg Lestat to touch him so he can finally relieve some of the pressure between his legs, but he knows he never has to beg. Lestat will give him what he needs.
He can see it in the way the blond man looks down in him, in his dilated pupils and the sweat that is starting to bead on his collarbone.
His hands run along the length of Louis side, stopping at the divot of his waist where he holds Louis down and descends upon his torso.
Only his tongue flicks across Louis’ hardened nipple at first. It darts out, slowly circling the dark nub on Louis’ chest, before Lestat closes his whole mouth around it, sucking on it reverently as if an elixir of life could spew forth from it.
Louis’ head falls back and he moans softly, closes his eyes and just listens for a moment, listens to the sound of Lestat’s skin rubbing against his and the way Lestat softly grunts against his chest as he presses one open mouthed kiss after another to Louis’ bloodshot nipples.
It is not lost on Louis how Lestat slowly grinds against his legs as he works his mouth on Louis skin. He reaches out an arm to run it across Lestat’s backside and press it further down, trapping Lestat’s cock against his thigh.
“So desperate,” Louis coos as Lestat looks up at him with gaping lips, strands of sweaty, blond hair stuck against the corners of his mouth.
“Oh, mon cher, you have no idea,” he growls and leans down again nipping at the skin just below Louis’ nipple, fangs scratching against it, “may I?”
Somehow asking for it makes it all the more lewd and a drunken giggle escapes Louis’ mouth as he nods and grabs Lestat’s head to press it against his chest.
The pain is exquisite, as it always is when Lestat sinks his fangs into any part of Louis’ body.
They have done this a thousand times. Sometimes Lestat will sit Louis down on the sofa and lounge between his legs, drinking from Louis thighs like a lapdog, while Louis caresses his hair. Sometimes Lestat drinks from his throat while standing, pleasuring Louis with his hand as he does, making a little game out of seeing how long it takes before Louis’ knees buckle and he ejaculates all over the carpet and Lestat has to hold him up so that he does not fall to the floor.
Other times, Louis drinks from Lestat, from his hips, his buttocks, the soft skin right next to his cock or the back of his thigh.
Louis’ long, drawn out moans reverberate around them as Lestat drinks and drinks, arching his hips downward against Louis’ legs and then the bed and the silk sheets. He slides down until he lies stomach down between Louis’ thighs, lapping up the last bits of blood before lifting his head again and staring at Louis’ face with impossibly dilated pupils.
If only Louis could freeze this moment and paint Lestat a million times over. Just this image of him, just these eyes and these lips and the way they look only for Louis. If only there was no world outside of this bed and they could remain in this moment forever, with this pleasure, this lust inside and all around them.
Louis sighs and pushes some of the hair back from Lestat’s face, cradling his chin in the process, tilting it up ever so slightly.
“I’m all yours, Louis,” Lestat mumbles, already sounding delirious, drunk on the blood of his lover. He licks the remnants of it from his lips and presses a chaste kiss to the small wound that his fangs left behind before it can fully heal. The words are a promise. A way to let Louis know that Lestat is at his disposal, that he only exists in this moment to give Louis the pleasure he so desperately craves, to ease the terrible ache in his cock, the need to be touched and to be doted upon.
Louis wants to lay back and take, take, take after a long day of making decisions, running things, being a man of business. He wants to stretch out under Lestat like a cat and let Lestat put his skilled mouth all over his body, like he is doing now. He wants to hear Lestat’s grunts as he inches closer towards an orgasm that only pleasuring Louis can give him. Lestat likes giving. It’s a perfectly lovely arrangement.
“I want your mouth,” Louis instructs, “I want it all over.”
He beckons for Lestat to kiss him again and Lestat obliges without question, locking their lips together with a small grunt and a sharp inhale.
The faint smell of Lestat’s sweat hits Louis’ nose and he pulls Lestat closer. Closer, closer, always closer, to drown in that smell, to never smell anything else ever again. His arms clasp around the broadness of Lestat’s back and he runs his hands up and down that smooth expanse of skin as Lestat moves against him, grinding their cocks together, both of them already leaking fluid.
It’s all akin to the desperate rutting of an animal in heat and Louis moans at how much this all turns him on, moans loudly into Lestat’s mouth and then he spills for the first time that night, spills against Lestat’s torso and thighs.
This sudden orgasm comes as a surprise; Louis rarely comes untouched. Maybe it’s the sheets, maybe it’s the way Lestat’s drinking has weakened his resolve, maybe it is a combination of factors.
However, he can read from the look on Lestat’s face that the night is far from over. He does not want it to be over. He can come again and again and again, he knows that. Lestat knows it.
“Now who’s desperate?” Lestat smirks, but still looks like he as well is one step away from coming all over himself. Louis would just have to reach out his hand and touch Lestat’s cock and he’d double over and spill on their expensive sheets. Something in his expression seems to beg Louis to do just that. Tonight, he won’t. Tonight, he keeps his hands to himself. For the most part at least.
“Continue,” Louis says, slightly out of breath, “put it into your mouth. Please. I want to see you take me.”
A breath escapes Lestat’s mouth and he swallows hard, his cock twitching excitedly between his thighs. He cannot hide his arousal from anyone.
Louis angles his legs so that Lestat has more room to get into position, but also so that he can eventually trap Lestat’s head between his thighs, once he starts working that filthy mouth on Louis cock. He will make Lestat use his beautiful mouth until he cannot cum anymore, and if it’s the last thing he does. His ideal end to this night pictures him, passed out from too many orgasms and coming to slowly with fresh blood from Lestat’s wrist but alas, he has to get there first.
That is to say, Lestat must lead him there.
The man in question gets up onto his knees, arching his back as if there was a third in the bed with them, someone who might take him from behind while Louis’ cock is in his mouth. Maybe this is something to be considered. What a sight it would be.
He licks a stripe down Louis’ abdomen, starting at his bellybutton and stopping just at the hilt of his cock, right before the coarse hair around it gives way to hairless, sensitive skin. The promised land, heaven on earth.
Lestat is incredibly skilled at this and he takes Louis entire length into his mouth with no issue, licking up blood tingled semen along the way, bringing his head down until his bottom lip brushes against Louis’ testicles and the head of Louis’ cock presses against the back of the blond man’s throat.
Louis sighs deeply, and it turns into a resounding moan once Lestat’s tongue brushes against the underside of his cock. He doesn’t move, he just looks up at Louis through hooded eyes as his tongue snakes across that most sensitive plane of skin, just as it had flicked across his nipples. He pulls his head back slightly and hollow his cheeks, suctioning around Louis’ cockhead and releasing it with a wet sound that leaves Louis gasping, almost sobbing with how good it feels.
Lestat drags a thin rope of saliva from Louis’ cock to his lip as he pulls back further, licking it away with that devious tongue.
“Again,” Louis moans, “do that again”
Lestat obliges, happily descending upon Louis’ cock once again and this time, he keeps it in this mouth, he only pulls back far enough so that he can run his tongue around the tip, swivelling like it’s the sweetest lollipop on earth.
Louis can barely catch his breath before Lestat hollows his cheeks again and presses downward, and then pulls up again, up and down, up and down, creating such delicious friction that Louis has to hold onto his hair for fear of losing his grip on reality completely.
It does not help that Lestat has begun to moan around Louis’ and that the vibrations of his deep, throaty moans only add to the pleasure.
Louis is fully hard again in no time, his cock swelling up inside Lestat’s mouth, making the man’s eyes widen as he struggles for a moment to accommodate the new volume.
Louis knows that if Lestat could smile right now, he would. He’d make a quippy remark, maybe tease Louis for getting so hard again so quickly, but luckily he cannot do any of that.
“Can I fuck your mouth, mon cher?” Louis asks, barely restraining himself from thrusting already. Lestat moans and taps once against Louis thigh. Louis knows he can do anything now. Three taps for No, two taps for Be Careful and one tap for Do Whatever, I don’t care, I’m all yours.
Lestat’s entire body quivers when Louis bucks up towards his mouth and his cock slides against the inside of Lestat’s throat. He balances himself on his elbows so as not to topple over as Louis starts moving, thrusting upwards into that willing warmth.
A drawn out moan escapes Louis’ mouth at the lewd sight in front of him, Lestat kneeling between his legs, head bent down so as to allow for a full range of movement for Louis.
The delicious wetness and warmth around Louis’ cock makes stars dance before his eyes and they slowly roll back in his head. His hips move steadily in and out of Lestat’s mouth, with Lestat releasing muffled moans of his own anytime Louis presses into the back of his throat.
“Ohhh, Lestat,” Louis sighs between moans, “oh, fuck, …oh, Jesus”
He moves slowly, languidly. He is in no rush. Lestat is here and he will be here until Louis has had his fill, until he is fully satisfied and ready to face the world again. He dares question if that will ever happen.
On top of all the pleasure that Lestat’s mouth is providing for him, the silk against his back provides an extra level of joy, elevating Louis’ lust beyond anything he has ever felt. Such expensive, beautiful, elegant fabric. And here they are, using it for such a filthy act, for such complete and utter debauchery as this.
Because they can. Because they have the money to buy these sheets fifty times over, to replace them whenever their pleasure spills onto them, buying every which colour they come in.
Louis lays out a hand to run it across the silk again, all while his other hand remains on Lestat’s hair, lazily pushing his head up and down his cock, spilling soft moans into the warmly lit room.
Eventually Lestat looks up and locks his gaze onto Louis. Tears brim at the corners of his eyes, some of which have already begun sliding down his cheeks. They are tears of pleasure, Louis knows this and it makes him buck his hips up hard, drawing a few choking sounds from Lestat and after one, two, three of them, Lestat violently shakes all over and whimpers loudly around Louis’ cock.
Louis gasps as he looks between Lestat’s thighs, sees how the blond man is spurting rope after rope of blood tinged cum onto the sheets as he nearly collapses onto Louis, barely holding himself up on his elbows, and gasping wildly around the cock that remains hard and wet with spit in his mouth.
It’s almost a pathetic sight, Lestat coming completely untouched, his cock hanging freely between his legs, not even touching the sheets underneath it. Yet he is helplessly spilling onto them as if his last orgasm lay a hundred years in the past.
“Oh, fuck, Lestat…so gorgeous,” is all Louis manages to mumble coherently before his vision once again goes white and he spills loudly into Lestat’s mouth, arching his back so that one last time his cock presses deep into Lestat’s throat, pulling one final tired gag from Lestat before he pulls back, dropping onto the sheets again and trying to come back to earth.
The sudden cold air around his cock is uncomfortable, but it is all worth it as Louis opens his eyes to the sight of Lestat in front of him looking well and truly fucked out, hair messy and Louis cum sticking to his lips, chin and running down his neck, eyes watery and barely looking straight, but still staring up at Louis with such reverence that it almost makes Louis cry.
Louis reaches out to pull Lestat up by his chin and press an open-mouthed kiss to his lips. He takes some of the salty spend into his mouth, tastes himself, while bathing in the bliss of their shared afterglow.
It will last only a little while, but they both need an inch of rest. Louis has more plans for Lestat, more orgasms he wants to have tonight. The silk sheets are still decidedly too clean.
“You take me so well,” he mumbles into Lestat’s mouth, barely wanting to break apart to say the words, but he has to, he must tell Lestat how good he is being, “only you know how to make me feel good.”
Lestat smiles against Louis’ lips. “I hope you do not mind my little accident,” he says and, oh, his voice is deliciously hoarse, it makes Louis kiss him fervently again and again until he releases his lover’s mouth again so he may say some more. “I enjoy being at your disposal, Louis. Anything you want I’ll give to you. You just have to ask me for it.”
Louis chuckles. He remembers those words; he remembers them very well. He clasps his elbows around Lestat’s neck and smiles up at him.
“Well, mon cher,” he purrs, “I have at least three orgasms left in me. And I wonder if you can come untouched more than once. I’d like to see that.”
Lestat laughs and Louis can feel the blond man’s cock twitch hungrily against his leg once again.
“I knew I was right to buy these sheets, mon coeur, was I not? I like seeing you so happy.”
Louis smiles and kisses Lestat again. It’s the simplest of acts but somehow, he loses himself completely whenever Lestat’s soft lips press against him.
“You make me happy, Lestat,” he coos softly, pushing a strand of hair behind Lestat’s ear, “now do it again”