Chapter Text
Louis glances up from his book as Lestat saunters into the room, humming quietly to himself.
He’d taken longer to hunt tonight than is usual, the clock showing well past four in the morning already.
And then he throws Louis a smile — that smile — that flashes his teeth and makes little wrinkles appear in the corners of his lips. And Louis just knows that there’s something that has happened, and he’s suddenly not so interested in his book anymore.
"Bonsoir, mon cher," Lestat drawls, "What did you do while I was gone?"
Louis raises an eyebrow and finally gives up all pretence of reading, too invested in the sight of Lestat undoing his shirt buttons. "I’m rather curious of what you were up to. What’s got you smiling like that?"
Lestat gives him a smirk, all mysterious, and Louis rolls his eyes, but it’s affectionate, of course. Lestat’s antics are ridiculous at times, but somehow endearing all the same. He briefly disappears in their coffin room, returning dressed in a black robe and with a small parcel in his hand, wrapped in red paper.
"I saw this and I thought of you," he says, the mattress dipping as he sits down.
Intrigued, Louis sits up, tangling his legs in the bedsheets. "You got me a gift?"
Lestat dips his head. "Of course. Today, two years ago, we met for the first time. Well, today in two weeks, two years ago, but I couldn’t wait."
Louis just looks at him for a moment, taken by such a profound sense of fondness that his chest begins to feel all tingly with it. "Oh Lestat," he murmurs, leaning in to place a kiss to his cheek, "Thank you so much."
Lestat hums softly and leans his chin on Louis’ shoulder. "Go ahead and open it, mon cher."
Wrapped in the delicate red paper, there’s a small, velvet box, and Louis’ breath hitches as he opens it. "It’s beautiful," he whispers, lifting the golden ring from its silk cushion. The small emerald set into it sparkles as he puts it on his finger.
"Do you like it?" Lestat asks, "It’s the colour of your eyes and so I thought—"
Louis kisses him before he can say more, because the ring is beautiful and because he loves this man so much. "It’s perfect," he whispers, reluctantly parting from Lestat’s lips only for the urge to breathe, "Thank you. I wanna get something for you, too, but…"
Lestat laughs and his eyes seem to glow with joy. "The date is in two weeks, je sais."
Louis never wants to let him out of his arms ever again.
"You know, that night we met for the first time, I think—" Lestat whispers after a moment, "I think it was the best thing that ever happened to me."
No, Louis will never let him out of his arms. "The best thing, huh?”
"Yes, well," Lestat says and his brows knit together in a frown, "You are the best thing, that is. I love you, chéri."
Louis presses a kiss to his temple. "That night, I wanted to punch you in the face, you know," he mutters, "You were so infuriating. Getting on my nerves."
Lestat scoffs. "You couldn’t even look away," he counters, "You liked it."
Louis laughs and brushes a stray lock of blonde hair behind his ear. "Of course I did," he whispers, "You got me good, that night. You were on my mind all the time after."
"Good," Lestat smiles, satisfaction rich in the word.
"Good?" Louis huffs, "It was torture. I couldn’t help but imagine…"
"Oh?"
Louis shifts, getting more comfortable on the sheets. Lestat is watching him so intently, with those mesmerising eyes, darker than usual, that glint in them that—
And oh, arousal, hot and potent, curls in Louis’ belly, spreading through his entire body like fire. It’s intoxicating, this constant craving for Lestat in his very bones.
He drops his voice into a whisper. "Have I ever told you that after we first met, I only thought of you when I touched myself? That nothing else could get me off anymore?" he asks, and Lestat is on him in a blink, pressing him into the soft mattress of their bed.
"You thought of me?" he asks, breathless, hands greedily roaming all over Louis’ body, settling on his hips.
Louis smiles slyly, reclining into the pillows piled against the headboard. "Mh," he hums, biting down on his lip in a way that he knows Lestat likes. He reaches out to run his fingers down the sliver of skin revealed in the gap of his open robe.
"You wanna know how I used to get off when I didn’t have you to do it for me?" he asks, revelling in the way that Lestat’s entire face seems to darken with desire.
"You see, that night, I went home and I couldn’t stop thinking of you," he says, "How your voice sounded, how beautiful you were to me—"
Lestat leans forward to kiss him, hungrily lapping at his lips until Louis parts them, so that their tongues intertwine. He tears himself away from it, hands clenched in the fabric of Lestat’s robe.
"That night I went to bed but I couldn’t sleep," he continues, making Lestat exhale a shaky breath, "All I could think of was you. You kept me awake."
Lestat grins, and it makes him look almost boyish with glee. "Je suis vraiment désolé."
Louis lightly slaps his arm. "You’re not," he says, drawing him in for another kiss. He smiles when they part, and Lestat’s gaze is glued to his lips. "I tossed and turned, but I still couldn’t sleep. Because I couldn’t help thinking about how you talked to me in the club. I wanted to know how you looked under that ridiculous suit you were wearing."
He chuckles both at the memory and at the eagerness with which Lestat immediately begins shedding his robe. "Do I meet your expectations, hm?" he drawls, smirking at Louis seductively; As if Louis needed any more enticing, as if he wasn’t already completely enthralled with him.
"You definitely exceed them," he laughs, running his hands down the smooth skin of his chest, tinged golden in the warm candlelight. "I had to touch myself that night, you know," he whispers, as if he was telling a great secret, "I’d never felt like that before. As if I’d go mad if I didn’t get relief."
"Show me," Lestat whispers urgently, "Touch yourself as you did that night. Let me see—"
"You wanna see, huh?" Louis asks, taking off his own shirt.
Lestat‘s lips part on a moan as he leans down to trail open-mouthed kisses all over Louis’ chest. "If you want to show me, chéri."
"Oh I do," Louis mutters, playing with the button of his trousers, "And you like to watch, don’t you?"
Lestat chuckles softly, kissing Louis’ cheek. "I like watching you."
"Yeah, baby?" Louis teases, pushing his pants down, kicking them off his feet. Lestat’s eyes rove over him, and he can almost physically feel the intensity of his gaze on his skin.
He’s barely touched himself and he’s already hard, his cock leaving a trail of wetness on his stomach.
He gasps loudly as he wraps a hand around it, partly because he can’t stop the sound from escaping him, and partly for show. "That night, I had to be quiet, y’know," he says, slowly stroking himself, "It was three in the morning, and, ah— and the walls were thin."
Lestat sits back on his knees to take in all of Louis at once. His fangs are out, glinting pearly white in the candlelight. He looks hungry.
He’s so impossibly beautiful like this, Louis can’t believe he’s actually real, that they’re actually together, in love with each other. That the happiness that he feels whenever he’s with Lestat is real and his own.
He wets his lips before he says, deliberately slowly, "Could you hand me the oil?"
The shiver that takes Lestat’s entire body is visible. "Louis," he says, his voice raw with arousal. In a flash, he’s holding out the small vial that they keep in their nightstand.
Louis takes it from him, parting his legs ever so slightly. "I didn’t do this to myself often," he whispers, "I harboured the impression that it was a sin greater than anything. But that night, I had to do it. I needed it. Do you understand the effect you had on me?"
Lestat groans, watching avidly as Louis slicks his fingers to bring them between his legs, just teasing at the hole there.
"I felt so indecent for it," Louis says, pressing in just the tips of two fingers, careful with the sharp edges of the nails, "So obscene. I imagined you standing there in the darkness, watching me do it—"
He trails off with a shudder when the pads of his fingers brush against that perfect spot inside him. His cock jerks in his grasp, dribbling pinkish fluid all over his hand.
Lestat’s eyes are wide with awe, adoration, the pupils blown black with lust. Louis mewls when his fingers press into his thighs, pulling them apart just a little more, so he can see better. "You’re so beautiful, Louis," he breathes, "Stretched so wide around your fingers."
Louis sighs in pleasure, dropping his head into the mountain of pillows. "Oh, it felt so good to do this to myself. I imagined it was you inside me, taking me apart until I couldn’t do anything but lie there and let it happen," he says breathlessly, forcing two more of his fingers into his body, desperate to feel the stretch of it even more acutely.
"I wanted so desperately to be filled with you. I was out of my mind with want, Lestat. I had to stuff my fist in my mouth so I wouldn’t wake my family because I screamed your name when I came all over myself—"
Lestat curses softly. The desire in his eyes is intoxicating, spurring Louis to thrust his fingers inside faster, to put on a show, just for him.
To be desired like this, to be looked at like this, to be wanted by a man like Lestat; He’s drunk on this feeling, this high that is better than even the blood.
"I couldn’t think of anything else for days, weeks," he brings out labouriously, "I could only think of you, when we weren’t together. I imagined what you’d do to me if you’d ever found out about my fantasies. I imagined you bending me over your piano, I imagined you fucking me against one of the bookshelves in your library. I imagined you having me on my knees in your parlour so you could put your cock in my mouth and take your pleasure from me—"
His voice hitches on a moan when Lestat surges forward to kiss him. "Such filth," he says reverently, fangs pressing against Louis’ bottom lip, "You always shielded your fantasies from me so well. If I’d known—"
"I thought it’d show on my face if I let myself think about it when we were together," Louis whispers, pressing another finger into his hole, revelling in the pain of the stretch, "I couldn’t bear the thought of embarrassing myself in front of you."
Lestat kisses him again, pushing their tongues together until Louis is keening with the intensity of it. "I couldn’t have controlled myself if I’d seen any of it," he hushes, "Just a glimpse of it would’ve been enough. I’d have had to make you mine right then and there. I could barely restrain myself in your presence as it was, Louis. Everytime I saw you, you made me want to fall to my knees to worship you."
Lestat’s voice lowers, taking on this rough quality that Louis adores. "I longed for you every day," he whispers, "Believe me, you weren’t alone with your fantasies."
And Louis can imagine it so well, Lestat lying awake in his coffin, a hand wrapped around his cock, Louis’ name on his lips as he brought himself pleasure.
He withdraws his fingers from his hole with a filthy sound that makes them both shudder. The sensation of emptiness is briefly disconcerting, before Lestat’s fingertips trace around the rim, trailing through the slick left there, making Louis’ hips jerk.
"You’re so wet," he groans, "So sloppy and open for my cock, mon cher. You’ve done such a good job at getting yourself ready for me."
Louis would be ashamed of the whine that escapes his throat if Lestat had not taught him so effectively that shame has no place in their bed.
"I’m going to fuck you so well," Lestat whispers, placing biting kisses all over the delicate skin of Louis’ throat.
"Yeah, baby?" he chokes, almost giddy with arousal, "Gonna make me scream?"
"Mh," Lestat hums in a pretence of thoughtfulness, "Maybe I’ll make you beg. You’d like that, non? Being only allowed to come when I tell you to. And if I told you no…"
"God, please," Louis gets out, overwhelmed with the image that his words create. Putting himself under Lestat’s mercy like that, it’s—
Desire takes him that is so intense that he can’t think properly anymore. "Please, Lestat, I need it. I need to feel you. I need—"
The moan that falls from Lestat’s lips when he pushes himself inside ever so slowly, one agonising inch after the other, is beyond filthy. Louis’ toes curl with the razor-sharp pleasure-pain of the stretch, the overwhelming bliss of being one with the man he loves more than anything in the world.
"Please, give me more," Louis whimpers, floating on the sensation of being full to the very brim. No matter how often they do this, it never ceases to be this divine.
"You do need more, don’t you," Lestat mutters against his lips, smiling fondly as Louis draws him into another breathless kiss.
There’s that same smile in Lestat’s voice, mixed with pure adoration, when he whispers, "You’re always so needy when we’re like this. You’re so precious, mon chéri. My darling Louis."
Louis’ nails leave little crescents of red on his arms. He opens his eyes to gaze into those beautiful eyes, heat rising in his face. "I want you, Lestat," he whimpers, "Want you all the time. I can’t stand it when we’re not together. Need you always."
He tugs Lestat’s hair, bringing their lips together in another, messy kiss. His eyes roll back into his head when Lestat finally, finally picks up the pace, their lips separating with a lewd sound.
"That night I first saw you," Lestat groans, "I knew we belonged together, you and me. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours, pour l’éternité—“
"Yes," Louis moans and it’s almost a sob, "Wanna be with you till forever falls apart, Les—"
Fangs tease along the side of his jaw, pinpricks of pain that make the pleasure only crest more quickly. Louis curls his legs around Lestat’s waist, urging him to move faster, because he needs more, because he needs to have him even closer.
"Just take it, mon cher," Lestat murmurs against his skin, lapping at the shallow bitemarks he’s left there, "You’re doing so well, Louis, so well. Just take what I give you. Let me take care of you. And you like this, yes? Me taking care of you?"
"God, you’re so good to me, baby, I—" Louis throws his head to the side, his entire body alight with pleasure, the sort that sizzles just under his skin, the sort that only Lestat had ever managed to coax out of him. It’s as if his body is tuned to Lestat’s touch.
He blindly reaches for Lestat’s hand, grasping it tight to bring it to his stomach. "Can you feel that?" he whimpers, "You’re so deep inside me I can feel it in my belly. You make me so full, baby."
Lestat moans erratically into the crook of his neck, his hips working faster with Louis’ every word. "You can come just from this, can’t you?" he groans, "Just from me fucking you, I don’t even need to touch you, chéri. I’ll make you come on just my cock—"
Louis claws at the sheets, mindlessly squirming into the hard rhythm of Lestat’s thrusts. "Are you gonna come inside me?" he slurs, "Fill me up?"
If it’s even possible, Lestat’s eyes darken even further, into two pitch-black pools of lust. Louis cries out when Lestat hoists his hips up, angling them so he can fuck him even deeper, harder.
"Yes, chéri. I’ll fill you up good," he hisses, oh, the way his eyes darken so deliciously, "Fill you up enough to put my child in your belly tonight—"
Louis cries out sharply, twisting beneath him with lust. Just the thought of it, just the suggestion, as impossible as it is; It makes his entire body seize with pleasure.
"Yes," Louis whines, "Oh Lord, yes, please."
Lestat’s lips find the shell of his ear. "You’d like that?" he hushes, "Growing my child in your belly for me? The proof that you’re mine."
"Lestat," he chokes as blinding light explodes behind his lids. His nails dig long streaks of red into Lestat’s back, and he’s only vaguely aware that he’s screaming, that Lestat buries his fangs in his throat, hightening the pleasure until he’s drunk on it.
He opens his eyes to the golden mass of Lestat’s hair, his harsh panting against the side of Louis’ throat.
Blood streaks his mouth when he draws away. He’s so ridiculously beautiful like this that Louis wishes he could keep a picture of it for forever. "I couldn’t help myself," Lestat whispers, almost sheepishly, "Your blood is ecstasy to me."
Louis can’t find the strength to speak and so he doesn’t, just draws Lestat in for another kiss. Slow and gentle, this one, as their frantic heartbeats calm to the same even frequency.
"I longed for you," Louis says as they part, wrapping his arms around Lestat’s neck, "I was afraid of myself sometimes, for how much I craved you. I wanted to be yours." He tangles his fingers in Lestat’s golden hair. "I wanted you to be mine."
Lestat glances up at him lazily, through half-open lids. "You’re mine now, mon cher," he hums, "And I’m yours."
"I’m so in love with you," Louis whispers, so taken by the sheer intensity of his feelings for this beautiful man.
In his arms, Lestat freezes as if stunned. His calm expression crumbles into something akin to pain.
In the moment that it takes Louis to register all of it, panic has already unfurled in him. "Lestat," he says, touching his cold cheek, "It’s—"
"You’re in love with me," Lestat breathes. His brows draw together in a pained frown. "Or did you not mean it? Is it just something you said to…"
Louis feels very warm all of a sudden, red-hot affection curling in his belly. It’s a beautiful thing to experience. "I love you," he whispers, "I love you so much, Lestat. More than anything. Don’t ever doubt it."
Lestat’s eyes flutter shut. "You love me," he says, wonder in his voice.
"Of course I do," Louis mutters, cupping his face in his hands, "I wouldn’t have bound myself to you for eternity otherwise, would I? Would I have married you that night if I didn’t love you with all that I am?"
"Louis," Lestat chokes, crimson tears clouding the whites of his eyes when he opens them, "Oh, Louis."
His fingers trail over Louis’ skin as if he was something sacred, only to be handled with the utmost care.
"I might’ve fantasised about you that night," Louis says softly, "But I also dreamed about simply being with you. Being held by you. Spending all my days with you. Growing old with you. Being loved by you, as I love you."
Lestat exhales shakily, resting his forehead against Louis’ until they’re breathing the same air. "We’ll have that together," he whispers, "We’ll have everything we want. L’amour de ma vie."
Louis smiles as he closes his eyes, listening to Lestat’s heartbeat, matched perfectly with his own.
This is what love feels like. It’s all he’s ever wanted.