Louis could curse Daniel.
“He tells me you are not taking care of your needs, Louis,” Lestat says, pausing their movie on a sex scene that was turning the air thick and heavy. Lestat has, apparently, taken this as his window of opportunity to ask about Louis’ personal life.
“Daniel should mind his business,” Louis mutters, reaching for the remote. Lestat retracts his hand, leaving it out of his reach. “And so should you.”
“Forgive me.” Lestat moves to face him on the couch, shuffling his legs up to cross them. “I don’t want to overstep, mon ami. But this was not the impression you had given me. You called it your ‘hot girl summer’, non?”
Louis feels his cheeks flush. He had said that, a few months ago now, when Lestat was seemingly entertaining affairs left and right as he soaked up his new rockstar lifestyle.
It’s not like he’s been entirely celibate. A bathroom blowjob here and there can go a long way, on days when Louis has the desire to detach himself from his books and camera and actually drag himself to the local bars.
But Louis would be lying if he claimed he’d brought anyone home in the year since he left Armand and reunited with Lestat, if only on a platonic basis.
“I fuck people, Lestat,” Louis grumbles, still staring at the static television screen. “Don’t know why you care.”
Lestat hums.
“So Daniel is mistaken, then,” he concludes. “I shall gladly inform him at our next session.”
“Go ‘head. And tell him to mind his nosy ass while you’re at it. Thought you were the one he’s s’posed to be harassing these days.”
Lestat turns to him with a frown.
“Louis, are you sure all is well? You are defensive—”
“What’s it matter to you, Lestat?” Louis snaps, meeting his ex’s eyes for the first time since they’d broached the topic. There’s a hesitancy there, a tentativeness that Louis hadn’t anticipated from the confidence with which he’d toppled their boundaries.
“Well,” Lestat starts with an exaggerated inhale. Louis forces himself to still his eyes, resisting letting them drift to the way Lestat’s chest ripples as he breathes in and out, his cropped t-shirt — his merch, even — clinging to his broad shoulders and toned pecs.
“Je detest to think of you as being… unsatisfied. That is all. You are my friend, Louis, it is only natural.”
“I’m fine,” Louis cuts in. “Been doin’ what and who I want since before I found you here and seeing you hasn’t made me stop, don’t let that big head of yours grow.”
It’s a lie, for the most part. His sex life with Armand was… lacking, but not wholly non-existent, a description that continues to apply following his return to New Orleans, sans Armand.
“So being with Armand was fulfilling, oui? If you are so content with your current intimate endeavours, and this is not a recent development?” Lestat bursts out, a hint of snark that quickly morphs into panic. “Louis, I — my apologies, it was unkind of me to bring him up.”
Lestat embodies the form of a startled deer, his eyes darting wildly as he tucks a blond curl behind his ear. The anxiety is new in him, or at least, Louis can’t remember a time when his ex was ever so forthcoming with his nervousness. He doesn’t enjoy it, per se, so much as he takes comfort in Lestat’s increasingly frequent displays of vulnerability.
Louis has half a mind to scold Lestat — lash out at him, even, for setting off one of his trigger points; another part of him wants to be petty, test the limits of Lestat’s jealousy and embellish, exaggerate, stick the knife in, see how far he can twist it.
His animosity towards Armand wins out.
“It’s alright,” Louis responds. “But, uh, no. It wasn’t really working for me. But I kinda had bigger priorities, so…”
“Of course,” Lestat says softly, his regret over what happened in Paris left unspoken — “giving” him to Armand, as he’d put it. They’ve been over this since they reunited, been through it a hundred times, hashed out their wrongs — Lestat’s, mostly — and accidentally come out the other end as friends, something bordering on functional.
“But you took other lovers, after me, alongside him?” Lestat asks bravely, wringing his hands together.
“Yeah,” Louis nods.
“Good. This pleases me,” Lestat replies, earning him a quirked eyebrow in response. “I made you to feel pleasure, after all.”
Louis feels a spark of electricity zap down his spine, covers the jolt with a forced laugh.
“Alors. Are you seeing anyone? A situationship, perhaps, ou — a sweetheart? We can swap stories, mon ami, comme c'est amusant!”
Louis tenses up, begins pacing the sitting room of his apartment, desperately seeking a distraction.
“Don’t wanna talk about this Lestat.”
“D’accord,” Lestat deflates once again, “it is just—”
“What is it, Lestat? Why you gotta keep goin’ on ‘bout this?”
“Louis, I — Je suis désolé, Louis, when we were together, you harboured so much shame, I just. I worry. That you are not happy with that part of your life, that you are still uncomfortable—”
“What do you want me to say?” Louis retorts, frustration bubbling up. “That it’s just been a string of forgettable fucks, perfunctory at best? That I still haven’t had another man inside me?”
Louis clamps his mouth shut as Lestat’s falls open.
“I — Louis, you cannot possibly mean it. Say it isn’t true, that — that you haven’t deprived yourself of this ecstasy all these decades.”
“Thought you’d be smug,” Louis admits, “that you were my one and only.”
Lestat’s breath hitches. He’s standing now, a few feet away from Louis, slightly towering over him due to his heeled boots that do not befit this indoor occasion.
“Putain,” Lestat swears, “but — what about Jonah?”
“Fooling around. We never went all the way.” It is a testament to how far he’s come with Lestat that such a confession no longer renders him feeling disempowered.
“You were a virgin with me, Louis?” — halfway between a declaration and a question.
“Thought you knew,” Louis shrugs. “Always chatting about how tight I was.”
“Oui,” Lestat pants out, “but you took me beautifully every time.”
“Lestat. Don’t.”
Lestat swallows, diverting his eyes. Louis hears a suppressed sniffle, asks if he’s crying, because his ex-husband is nothing if not a drama queen.
“I am sorry, this is — unexpected, I suppose I am overwhelmed.”
“We don’t gotta make this weird.”
Lestat can’t hide his wet, blood-lined eyes now, Louis caught between finding it endearing and alarming.
“Lestat—”
“My apologies,” Lestat continues, “but I am still stuck on it, Louis, denying yourself the exquisite bliss your body needs for nearly a century. Mon cher, tell me why.”
Louis shivers at the statement of his desires as much as the term of endearment.
“Guess my preferences have changed,” he mumbles weakly.
Lestat scoffs slightly, his hand brushing the back of the couch as he inches closer to him.
“I find that hard to believe,” he retorts. “There was no sensation in this world you relished more than me buried deep inside you."
Louis’ cock stirs, at the memory itself, at Lestat’s brazen reference to the loving act they’d shared. He finds himself at a loss for words, exposed by Lestat’s piercing assessment.
“My love, I can’t stand it. Please, let me worship you as you deserve, you won’t have to lift a finger.”
Louis can no longer ignore the way Lestat’s cock is tenting in his pants, straining the fabric, aching to break free. His mouth runs dry.
It is a bad idea. It will spiral as soon as they lay hands on one another, could never just be this evening.
And yet, he craves it, his want etched in his bones, to have his ex-husband — no, his man, because deep down he knows Lestat is always his, even if the opposite isn’t true — to have him take care of him the way only he knows how.
Louis finds himself nodding, “Yes. Fuck, Lestat, please, yes.”
Lestat is agape, stunned, as if he didn’t possibly anticipate a scenario in which Louis accepted. It is reminiscent of his turning, the quiet awe in his lover’s face as he welcomed the Dark Gift with a kiss.
But then Lestat’s whisking him off his feet, carrying him bridal-style to the bedroom and placing him down on the sprawling mattress.
He brings his big paws up to cup Louis’ face, his thumbs caressing the divot in his chin, his plump lower lip.
“Louis, may I?” Lestat asks, licking his rosy lips, his eyes black and lustrous as his warm breath tickles against Louis’ mouth.
Louis lets out a hum of approval and Lestat locks their lips together, gently sucking his lower lip into his mouth, wet tongue already begging for entry.
Louis opens his mouth and grants him access, letting himself be thoroughly kissed for a few moments before he begins sliding his own tongue along Lestat’s, curling it into the crevices of his mouth.
Lestat leisurely laps up his tongue, allowing spit to pleasantly fill his mouth and throat. He pulls back slowly, a string of saliva keeping them tethered.
“Going to treat you so well, ma princesse.”
Louis shudders violently, pulling Lestat flush against him, savouring the weight of his man’s body pinning him down.
“Mmm, make me feel good, Les.”
Lestat doesn’t need to be told twice, and immediately peels the t-shirt off his lithe body, standing to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his slacks, but not before lightly palming his erection, drawing attention to the wet patch on the grey fabric.
Lestat has no boxers on, and suddenly his hot, bare flesh is hovering above Louis' still-clothed body. It is a kindness that Louis barely has a chance to glimpse Lestat’s weeping cock — coming at the mere sight of it, in all its swollen, reddened glory, would be a real fear otherwise.
Lestat latches onto his neck, kissing and sucking and nicking the sensitive skin with his baby fangs, not enough to draw more than a drop of blood, which he quickly licks into his mouth, the small wounds healing up.
He begins to cup at Louis’ chest, and Louis gasps at the smooth satin silk of his shirt making gentle contact with his nipples.
“I love your little tits, ma chérie,” Lestat declares, stroking his nipples through the material. “So perky in this blouse, it’s been driving me crazy all day.”
Louis whimpers. How has he made it this long without this? Without anyone truly seeing what he needs?
Lestat unbuttons the crimson top, pushing it off his shoulders and folding it into a neat pile.
“Mon dieu,” he whispers. “Your breasts, I have missed them.”
Lestat brings his face to a nipple, drool trickling onto the pert brown bud before he can even get his mouth on him. Louis moans when he does, Lestat alternating between suckling each nipple while his long fingers play with the other, combing through the hairs that dusts his tits.
He shifts his body lower, kissing down his slim torso, grazing his soft belly with his teeth.
“Ma belle femme,” Lestat says with a gaze into his eyes, rubbing his tummy lovingly.
“Lestat, please,” Louis groans, “wanna feel you against me. Now.”
Lestat pulls Louis’ pants down, a cream knit trouser that flows beautifully and makes him feel soft and cosy.
Instantly, a blush overcomes Lestat’s cheeks, spit glistening on his plush lower lip and dripping down his chin.
“Louis. My sweet bride,” he gushes before leaning forwards to mouth at his cock. Louis’ panties are off-white to match his trousers, a luxurious silk that mimics the fabric of his long-discarded shirt.
They’re a favourite pair of Louis’; the way the ivory contrasts with his skin, how the tight cloth clings to his ass and cock, black curls spilling out of the flimsy garment.
“I can see your pretty cock already, Louis, the deep flush of it. You’re sopping wet for me, my love. You’re gorgeous like this.”
Louis releases a long whine, desperate to have his man’s mouth on him everywhere that he can get it, his hands, his cock, Lestat's everything. He can feel himself absolutely soaked through and clenches his thighs together, desperate for relief.
“Uh-uh, that is for your husband to tend to, non?” Lestat tuts, prying his legs apart.
Lestat nuzzles against Louis’ dick, pausing briefly just to absorb the scent of him. He is high, positively giddy, when he reaches up to kiss Louis fiercely.
“Je vais enlever ta culotte maintenant, ma mariée vierge,” he announces against Louis’ lips, crawling back down the length of his body.
Lestat licks a long stripe up the length of his covered cock and Louis jerks with surprise, arching his back and suppressing a cry. Lestat sees through him, as he always did.
“Non, Louis,” Lestat orders. He pulls himself up to grasp Louis’ jaw, easing his thumb between his teeth to force his mouth open, rejecting his attempts to stifle the sounds of his pleasure.
“That’s it, mon amour. Open up to me. Let me hear you,” Lestat commands. “Do not be shy. Do not lie to yourself about what you want, what you need. My only purpose is to fulfil all your hopes and dreams.”
Louis sucks down on Lestat’s thumb, enthusiastically lavishing it with attention.
“Good girl,” Lestat praises, and Louis sobs loudly, his cock growing ever sensitive and needy.
Lestat soon returns to the space between Louis’ legs, his hands pawing at his asscheeks, squeezing the soft pillows of fat, digging his nails in,
One fingertip skims his clothed hole, teasing, gone before Louis can barely register it’s there, but it leaves him insatiable, bucking his hips and whining for cock.
“Need your dick in me, Daddy, I — fuck, Les.”
Now that was new, but Louis couldn’t help it — so long he’d gone, pretending he wanted sex a certain way, when really, he needs to be looked after or he just might die. He longs for his husband’s cock, stretching him out, filling him up, making him whole.
Lestat is panting hungrily, sweat slick on his forehead, his strong, handsome jaw practically coming unhinged as he releases low, throaty moans.
“Shhh, don’t be embarrassed, Daddy will take care of it ma petite princesse.”
He diverts his attention back to his neglected cock, finally tugging the flimsy panties down, leaving them taut around his thighs.
“My, Louis — your clit is throbbing,” Lestat says as he begins to thumb his leaking tip, caressing the slit. “So pretty, though. The prettiest clit on earth,” he insists with a hum as he takes Louis’ head into his mouth, swirling his most sensitive spot with his tongue before releasing it with a pop.
Louis cries out, the feeling of pleasure compounded by the sensation of Lestat’s cock bobbing against his thigh, leaving a damp trail.
“Please, Les, let me see it! Let me see your gorgeous cock.”
Lestat, never one to deny Louis anything, complies, his cock springing into view, and it’s utterly mouth-watering. It’s thick and veiny and beautiful, coated with pre-cum, and Louis needs it in him one way or another.
“Wanna suck it, baby, please,” Louis begs.
“Not right now, ma petite fille, tonight is for fucking your pussy, you're aching for it. Promise me you won’t deprive yourself ever again, not for one single day, s'il te plaît, Louis. Daddy won’t be happy if you do.”
“I promise, Daddy,” Louis vows.
“Bien,” Lestat hums. “Then you can have a treat, my love,” he decides, straddling Louis, tapping the tip of his cock onto his spit-shiny lip, the pre-cum spilling into his mouth.
“Assez,” Lestat declares as Louis makes an effort to take more of Lestat inside. Instead, his man flips him over, pressing Louis’ stomach into the bed and suffocating himself against his ass.
“Your beautiful pussy,” Lestat groans, his hot breath tickling Louis’ hole. “Will you permit your husband to eat you out, ma belle femme?”
“Oui,” Louis whimpers, and Lestat is kissing his pussy, pressing his lips against his tender hole, teasing.
“Fuck, Louis, you’re so slippery already, your cunt so needy and willing. You’ve been waiting a long time for this, haven’t you, chérie?”
“Yes,” Louis moans. “Been waiting eighty years, so hurry the fuck up.”
“You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?” Lestat asks again, ignoring his pleas, firmly clasping Louis' thighs. “Admit it. You’ve thought about it, finally getting dicked down by your husband after decades of pretending to be a top. Délirante, ma femme chérie.”
“Thought about it all the time, Daddy,” Louis confesses. “Fuck, want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, want you deep inside me, don’t want you to ever leave.”
At that, Lestat thrusts his tongue into Louis’ cunt, lapping up the folds, sending a warm flush through Louis, head to toe.
“Not gonna last long,” Louis cries out. “Need your dick in me now, Daddy.”
Lestat retreats, rolling Louis onto his back and giving him a sloppy kiss as he cups and rubs his breast.
“Need to open you up first, pretty girl,” Lestat coos. “Need to make it comfortable for you, my darling.”
“I don’t care,” Louis wails. “Need your cock.”
“Shh, shh — patience, my sweet. Let’s see if you can take my finger.”
Lestat inserts his index finger, Louis receiving it with slight resistance as he tries to grip it for more friction.
“So tight, Louis,” Lestat sighs in wonder, his eyes. “Tight as the day you were turned, before you’d ever taken my cock. Had you ever been filled, Louis? Did you finger yourself? Or did you fuck yourself with a dildo, imagine it was the real thing?"
“No,” Louis replies, grinding down as much as Lestat allows. “Never. Was too afraid, too — too ashamed.”
“Oh, ma belle épouse vierge, you’ll be a virgin every time I fuck you. No man has ever had you like I have.”
“And no other man ever will,” Louis pants. “Mon mari.”
Louis thinks he clocks Lestat blinking back tears, but his own eyes are too blurry to say for sure.
Louis gasps as Lestat removes his finger to spit on it some more, using pre-cum from both of their cocks to lube up a second digit as well.
“Mmm, so empty, Daddy. Feel so incomplete without you in me.”
Lestat rewards him with two wet fingers spearing inside him, and it burns a little, but it’s so, so good.
“Fuck, Les, more, now, need you—”
“You’re doing so good, Louis,” Lestat fawns, distracting him as he skewers him with a third finger, and then a fourth. Tears prick his eyes, but he savours it, having missed the delectable mix of initial pain and enduring pleasure all these years. He and Lestat had sometimes spent a whole day opening him up, working him nice and loose so that he could glide in with ease — or as smoothly as feasible for a dick as big as Lestat’s.
Tonight, though, this is not what Louis wants. He simply needs to feel his husband’s cock inside him as soon as possible, making up for lost time.
“Your cunt is taking me so beautifully, chérie, your tight, virgin pussy, all mine. Merde, je suis l'homme le plus chanceux du monde.”
“Please, Lestat, stick it in already. Want you so fucking bad, please, fuck me Daddy.”
“It may hurt, ma fille vierge. I do not know if you are ready.”
“Don’t care, need to feel you, your gorgeous cock,” Louis begs. “Please, Daddy, please, now. Want to feel you pushing out my belly,” Louis places Lestat’s hand over his tummy, “want to carry your child, want you to get me pregnant, Daddy.”
Louis feels Lestat tremble above him, catches sight of his quivering lip.
“As you wish,” he says, voice a little broken, hitching Louis’ legs over his wide shoulders, knees shoved into Louis' chest, Louis wrapping his arms around Lestat’s trim waist.
One of Lestat’s hands grips Louis’ ass, the other clutching the base of his own cock as he lines it up with Louis’ pussy. The sensation of the tip breaching his hole is overwhelming, but he needs more, desperately tries to grind down his hips and swallow more of Lestat’s cock.
“Still, chérie,” Lestat growls quietly, before he pushes his dick further into Louis, inch by inch.
“Ma belle et étroite femme,” he pants, sobbing loudly as Louis fully sinks onto his dick. “Putain, you feel incredible.”
Lestat pumps in and out of him, slowly, and Louis is struck with an all-encompassing feeling of coming home. He belongs here, he would live here, Lestat’s cock nestled in his cunt for all eternity.
It is euphoric, but it’s not enough.
“Need you to fuck me properly, Daddy,” Louis cries out. “Need you to pound me with your cock.”
Lestat begins thrusting relentlessly, overcome by a permanent need to please Louis, to grant every one of his wishes, to bestow him any earthly pleasure he covets.
“Lestat — deeper, harder, s'il te plaît, j'en ai besoin,” Louis gasps out.
Lestat plays with Louis’ clit as he fucks into him, ravaging his slender frame, hitting his prostate just right, making Louis’ eyes roll to the back of his head.
“Come in my cunt,” Louis pants, “please, need your cum in me, need your baby in my belly.”
“Je te donnerai un enfant, ma belle épouse, et je prendrai soin de vous deux pour le reste de nos vies immortelles,” Lestat cries, before an animalistic thirst takes over, fucking Louis with his cock and rubbing his clit, his mouth on his small breasts, his other hand steadying Louis beneath him, making him feel safe and secure in his Daddy’s loving hold.
The safety of it, his husband’s unabashed longing, his sated pussy — it all contributes to tipping Louis over the edge, and he shakes through his orgasm, repeating Lestat’s name like a prayer as he sprays his seed all over his eager man. The view is, evidently, enough to prompt Lestat’s climax, and he comes loudly and violently, filling his wife to the brim.
“Ta chatte m'a manqué,” Lestat proclaims, collapsing on top of Louis.
“I could tell,” Louis retorts with a chuckle. “Missed your cock, too, love.”
“Was that okay?” Lestat checks, eyes sparkling.
“It was perfect, mon bel homme. Merci. You’ve always known how to give it to me just right, even when I didn’t know myself. You love me so good, baby.”
“I do, Louis,” Lestat huffs breathlessly. “Je t'aime tellement. Nous sommes des maris, mais tu es ma femme. All I ever want is for you to be happy. Whether it’s the finest lingerie that you've ever laid eyes upon, or a child… I will find a way to give it to you, I swear to you that. You will want for nothing, ma chérie. The thought of you giving up what pleases you… of feeling humiliation and disgust for your glorious desires… it breaks my heart.”
“I know. Never again, Lestat, promise. I’ll let you take care of me now,” Louis takes a deep breath. “I… Daddy, I love you too, mon mari, l'amour de ma vie, mon seul.”
Lestat is crying now, and Louis cradles his face. “Mon doux garçon, je t’aime,” he hums, wiping his man’s tears.
They exchange sweet, languid kisses, until Lestat reluctantly withdraws to clean himself up, Louis too spent to lick up the cum, as appetising as it looks.
Lestat returns with a washcloth, cleaning Louis up with his tongue and mopping up any excess with the rag.
He gently pushes leaking cum back into his wife’s pussy, still warm from his cock. A butt plug follows, refusing to let it escape.
“We’ll get you pregnant in no time,” Lestat vows, kissing Louis’ cheek.
“Thank you. I never wanna take it out. Never wanna not have your come filling me up.”
“Do you feel whole at last, sweetheart?”
“I do. Your cock is the perfect fit for me. Thank you, my love.”
That morning, Louis feeds on Lestat, before dressing in a soft linen nightgown, pink to match his plug, and he steps into his coffin, curling up in his husband’s arms, entwining their hands, as they both fall into a tranquil sleep.