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The issue with helping Lestat fine-tune his lyrics, Louis was finding, had nothing to do with them butting heads while collaborating. Lestat was all gratitude when Louis offered edits, and he often incorporated his suggestions into the final product. Louis, for his part, felt honored to be consulted because he knew how intentional Lestat was with his art, knew how private it was deep down.
That was exactly why Louis had to suck his teeth while reading Lestat’s latest draft.
“You don’t like it,” Lestat observed from where he stood across his kitchen island. His tone was carefully measured, but not careful enough to hide the apprehension from Louis. Never from Louis.
“Didn’t say nothin’,” Louis returned without lifting his eyes from the notebook on the counter as he tapped the end of his pen on the marble countertop where his hand rested.
He didn’t look at Lestat because he didn’t have to. He knew the expression he’d find on his beautiful but infuriating face: A perfect picture of patience while he waited for Louis to share his thoughts. Louis knew it wasn’t a personal indictment, this discrepancy in their relationship he felt. Additionally, he knew this misunderstanding would be easily solved with a conversation about his wants and needs, but...
He talked more than he had in his two lifetimes with Daniel, and again with Lestat after their reunion. He was tired of talking about emotions. And, he thought as he finally looked at Lestat and took in the exact expression he expected, tired of his damn geniality.
Things were good between them. Louis remained in Dubai, but made frequent trips home to see Lestat on tour and off. Lestat, to his credit, had been the perfect gentleman. Considerate and faithful. Attentive. Loving. A little too loving, if Louis was being perfectly honest.
When Louis allowed the silence to continue uninterrupted, Lestat shifted his stance and dropped his gaze to the notebook before Louis. There were no notes in the margins for him to divine Louis’s thoughts and feelings, but Louis had to smile at the attempt. Knowing Lestat, he was already beginning to take a mental inventory of recent actions.
Content to let his man sit in the discomfort a while longer, Louis capped his pen and set it atop the notebook to signify he had no notes for him – about his song, anyway. At this, Lestat lifted and dropped his gaze between him and the open page. As amusing and vindicating as watching him struggle to land on a diplomatic way to ask what the issue was, Louis stood from his stool and made his way around the island that separated them. He watched Lestat watch his approach with a growing smirk.
It was entirely possible this plot would backfire, but decades of business dealings made him good at calculating risks. Besides, what better way to get through to Lestat than by picking a fight?
“Awful sensual,” he commented as he reached out to take hold of Lestat’s waist that was exposed in thanks to The Vampire Lestat crop top he wore. He pulled him close, maintaining eye contact as he continued on: “For someone who ain’t fucked me in decades.”
Lestat’s brow furrowed, but ever eager for affection freely given – accusation notwithstanding – he pressed close and draped his arms over Louis’s shoulders. Despite this Louis dipped both thumbs beneath the waistband of his fitted black jeans to caress his cum gutters. He didn’t miss how he sighed, and to reward his responsiveness, Louis kissed him chastely. That hadn’t changed in their lifetime apart.
“What of when we woke—” he began to counter, but Louis was quick to cut him off.
“Said fucked me.”
Lestat hesitated then, his expression going carefully neutral. After a short pause, he acknowledged Louis’s words with an uttered, “Ah.”
There was no follow-up explanation.
“That all you got?” Louis asked, his smile fading fast upon seeing Lestat shutter himself behind that mask of manners.
Lestat had always been open with his emotions, much to his periodic chagrin. His face revealed all in the unlikely circumstance that his mouth didn’t, and Louis found he missed his honesty. Missed hearing his thoughts, no matter how ridiculous, as well as his frequent irritations. Above all, he missed Lestat being Lestat with him. This diluted version was disconcerting, and he couldn’t quite figure out why Lestat had retreated to begin with.
Deciding to test a theory that had been taking vague shape in his mind since their reunion, Louis removed his hands from Lestat’s waist. After a beat, Lestat’s hands too fell away. They stood close enough to kiss, but Lestat made no move to touch him again. Long ago, Lestat wouldn’t stop touching him. There had been constant caresses, frequent holding of hands, kisses for every greeting, departure, and just-because occasions, even idle skin-on-skin contact if they were occupied yet near one another.
“You write songs like that,” Louis began, gesturing with his head to the notebook atop the counter. “Filthy songs leavin’ nothing to the imagination. About mutual violation.” Lestat swallowed, and Louis frowned. “These songs about me?”
The bulk of his first album had been, according to Lestat. Louis believed him; the material was far too specific to be about anyone else. Furthermore, Louis trusted Lestat now, and resolved to take him at his word. It was… an adjustment, but Louis was trying. So too was Lestat.
In all things but this.
“Yes,” Lestat said, though he sounded pained. His veneer cracked behind the eyes – Louis could see his eyes beginning to glisten with unknown emotion.
“There’s no one else?” Louis asked, and closed his mouth to keep the unproductive “again” qualifier contained. He wanted to fight to figure this out, not rehash the past.
Lestat looked mildly insulted, and Louis thought for a second he’d finally cracked his façade, but his expression tempered upon consideration that that was a fair inquiry.
“Only you.”
Louis bobbed his head once to indicate he believed him. “Okay. You don’t touch me unless I touch you first. Why?”
Lestat partly pivoted from him in a half-step, averting his gaze and exhaling an exasperated, “Louis—”
Reflexively, Louis seized Lestat above the elbow and spun him back round to face him.
“Don’t you start that, Lestat,” Louis warned, his brow furrowed in his sudden fury. “We doing this right or not at all.”
Lestat’s face had gone slack, eyes wide, cheeks pink, his lips parted. Louis released his arm, abashed. Conflicted. The bastard looked equal parts surprised and wanton, and while that was precisely what Louis wanted, the proffered victory felt hollow. Leave it to Lestat to effortlessly derail him.
“Nope,” Louis stated, shaking his head resolutely, his eyes closed briefly against his own personal temptation incarnate. “No, we havin’ it out right now. Fuck you.”
He had the good graces to look confused.
“Pardon?”
“Answer the damn question.”
Lestat glanced away and exhaled his frustration, his lip beginning to curl as though annoyed he wasn’t getting what they obviously wanted. It made Louis smile for just a moment. That was progress. Lestat then lowered his chin, his gaze dropping and then lifting back to Louis’s.
“You know why.”
Surprise bade him freeze, his chest constricting as he heard a rush of winds in his ears. He inhaled thickly, then exhaled long and slow. Once he connected with the ground beneath him again, Louis looked him dead in those red-rimmed eyes.
“Tell me.”
“Never will I lay a hand on you that isn’t wanted.”
“Lestat—”
“Never, Louis.”
Louis paused to acknowledge that Lestat meant what he was saying. He heard him, and he appreciated the well-placed concern. It was yet another testament to Lestat’s growth, which was always an unexpected turn-on, but this particular gesture of goodwill was cock-blocking him. Something had to give, and he’d yielded enough.
Silently and deliberately, he gathered Lestat into his arms for a tight embrace. Lestat clutched the back of his shirt. Louis withdrew enough to cup Lestat’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting his head to meet his eye directly as equals.
“I trust that you won’t. And trust I’ll either tell you or hand your ass to you if you do.”
Lestat cracked a wan smile at that, but it turned more genuine when Louis laughed quietly in consideration.
“How often you let me win way back when?”
Lestat looked thoughtful for a moment before offering an almost-shy smile in answer. Louis whistled, shaking his head in remembrance of their various spats. His heart ached at their possible futures lost one wrong decision at a time.
“Confidence is important.”
Laughter burst from Louis at that, his sullenness dissipating rapidly at the sight of Lestat’s marginally smug smile. He shrugged and ducked his head, nodding his agreement.
“Yeah, fine. Got there in the end,” he said, grinning, “We’re here now.”
“We’re here now,” Lestat confirmed as he stepped in unprovoked to capture his mouth with a gentle hand at the back of his neck.
Louis sunk into him immediately, some senses growing dull while others heightened and fog-like arousal settled over to slow and scramble his thoughts. He emitted a small noise when Lestat licked into his mouth, and he wrapped an arm around Lestat’s waist to pull him closer. They swayed together, tongues tangling, hips grinding. Christ, he kissed like he’d die without him, and the thought made Louis moan. His cock jumped at the sound and feel of Lestat’s whined response that poured into his mouth. The concurrent vibrations against his lips and tongue made him shiver, and fuck, he missed this. He missed him.
“No more eggshells,” Louis panted against Lestat’s wet mouth, “Walking on or otherwise. You got a problem, you fuckin’ tell me.”
“Yes,” Lestat acquiesced with immediacy, licking into his mouth to taste his tongue.
“Means you quit actin’ weird.”
Lestat scoffed dismissively, but paused when doing as much prompted Louis to stop kissing him. He dropped his head back to regard the decorative plaster adorning the ceiling. Louis kissed the exposed column of flesh, gentle, and delivered a brief bite to motivate him to spit it out. Playful, Louis swayed away when Lestat tried to grab him by the mouth again.
“We talk now,” Louis insisted with a nod, brushing his nose alongside Lestat’s before kissing him breathless again. On his terms. “So talk.”
“Difficult to focus—”
“We can st—”
“No, never,” he said breathlessly, dropping a hand to take hold of Louis’s unoccupied hand to press his palm to his abdomen.
Touch me, Louis gathered. Dutifully, he slid his hand up the expanse of his torso, reacquainting himself with which muscles jumped beneath his touch, which areas made him sigh, and which made him recoil with a charming giggle. He dragged his nails lightly over his nipple to feel him shake and weaken at the knees. Louis tightened his hold about his waist to ensure he stayed where he belonged against him.
“Talk and touch, baby,” Louis encouraged, grinning at the resultant indignant snort.
“You attempt emotional vulnerability whilst encouraging an erection,” Lestat sniped, expression tetchy.
Louis nodded in concession, huffing a self-satisfied note of laughter. There he is. He moved to retrieve his hand from Lestat’s body, but Lestat stayed him with a gentle hand. Louis stroked his soft skin instead, kissing his mouth in wordless assurance he wasn’t going anywhere. At this, Lestat looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment before steeling himself to speak.
“Suppose I haven’t quite... accepted that you’ve chosen this. Chosen me. I fear I’ll say or do something that will change your mind.”
Louis considered this, his heart sitting leaden in his chest. Lestat searched his gaze, and Louis lowered his hand to hook his first two fingers in his waistband. He brushed his thumb along the line of skin there as he acknowledged that he wasn’t the only one carrying ghosts. That Lestat wasn’t the only one who had mishandled their relationship.
“I want you, Lestat. Who you were. Who you are. Who you’ll become.” Louis murmured quietly. He heard Lestat’s throat click on a swallow, and he rested their foreheads together for the shared comfort of contact. “Your mind, your mouth, your body... All of you is mine, as I’m yours.”
Lestat looked as though he was being offered everything he ever wanted and was subsequently skeptical of its verity. Of his being deserving. His shoulders gradually relaxed in apparent relief, and Louis wondered if he’d been silently waiting for the other shoe to drop since their reunion.
Louis’s gaze softened, and he waited patiently for Lestat to process and respond.
“It seems as though we’ve reversed roles,” Lestat began with a sad smile, “Your uncertainty has become mine. And you...” Slowly, he lifted a hand to his cheek. Louis turned into the touch encouragingly. “‘Justice inclines her scales so that wisdom comes at the price of suffering.’“
Louis glanced off in thought to place the quote.
“Aeschylus?”
Lestat nodded. Louis laughed.
“Pulling out quotes now? Pretentious.”
Lestat lifted his chin defiantly, emboldened by their conversation and Louis’s laughter both.
“Cultured.”
Louis expressed dubious assent with a quiet hum, but permitted the correction to stand.
“Did he break you, Louis?”
It was the first direct question regarding his relationship with Armand that Lestat had asked, and the second time that very question was posed to him by one about the other. Suddenly, the shared distaste between Armand and Lestat made perfect sense to him. For all their undeniable differences, it seemed they often walked parallel mental paths despite landing on diametrically opposed answers.
What followed was the realization that Lestat would hate to hear that. Louis smiled to himself.
“No,” Louis said. “Armand asked me the same question about you,” he commented placidly, “Y’all always been this similar?”
Louis had to laugh as Lestat visibly speed-ran the known stages of grief and a few other notable additions, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Lestat cussed a blue streak in French, shoulders drawn. Louis could only laugh harder at how Lestat sputtered and spit in outrage like a street cat, his eyes squeezed shut tight as he bent over, braced with only a hand on Lestat’s hip.
Once his laughter abated enough to open his eyes and stand upright again, Lestat was looking at him with such raw fondness that Louis sobered immediately.
Had Lestat always looked at him this way?
They held one another’s gaze for a moment, two, and in sync, they came together again. Louis delved both hands into his golden waves, scratching delicately against his scalp as he pulled him close. Arms encircled his waist, hands rucking up his tucked-in shirt to seek skin at the small of his back. Lestat touched him more confidently now, thank fuck, but he was still too damn reverent with it.
Louis broke their kiss with a parting nip to Lestat’s bottom lip, relishing in the noise he made.
Slowly, pointedly, he lowered his hands to gather and lift the delicate gold chain around his neck. He glanced down at it, then back to Lestat with a growing, sly smirk.
“Pretty, ain’t it?” Louis asked, licking his lips to taste Lestat on them. “He gave it to me.”
There was a sharp tug, and Louis gasped as the offending jewelry hit the opposing wall before crumpling to a useless heap of precious metal at the baseboards. He looked back to Lestat whose chest was heaving with arousal and ire, but Louis saw a shadow of insecurity that began to creep into those captivating eyes. Louis shook his head minutely to prevent Lestat’s internal retreat, and yanked him back to his mouth by grabbing hold of his slutty little crop top.
Louis stepped forward, urging Lestat to walk backwards. He pressed him roughly against the nearest wall, uncaring that priceless art rattled nearby – art he personally curated for Lestat – and pinned him there with his body.
“Good,” Louis praised against his mouth, breath in sharp puffs against Lestat’s lips. “Want it all.”
Lestat spun them in answer, slotting a firm thigh between Louis’, the rest of his body anchoring him to the drywall. Chest to chest, hips to hips. Lestat devoured him in an encompassing kiss, and Louis’s pulse thrummed in his veins.
This is what he missed. To be loved by Lestat was a full-bodied experience, and he wouldn’t be denied any longer. He was choosing all of him and would settle for nothing less than.
Teeth bit at his lip, and a kitten-like fang nicked his tongue in the ensuing tangle. They passed his blood between their open mouths, Louis breathless, and Lestat moaning like a starving man at a feast. Lestat sucked the muscle until the laceration ceased bleeding, lapping it after to ensure he’d heal quickly.
“Don’t hold out on me,” Louis urged.
He shoved Lestat away by the shoulders, eyes dark, and his mouth smirking. Lestat caught him by the wrist and pulled him from the wall and against his body.
“Louis,” Lestat cautioned, but his tone was husky.
One final confirmation.
In answer, Louis struck as a serpent, embedding his fangs in Lestat’s neck. He drank deeply to consume him whole, drawing back to press brief bloody and biting kisses to the abused flesh. Blood pooled at the puncture marks and began to flow down his skin. Lestat stood dazed with labored breath, his pupils blown and his fangs peeking from parted lips.
Louis turned and ran from him to inspire a chase, shedding his shirt as he moved towards Lestat’s bedroom.
As predicted, Lestat recovered quickly and raced after him, utilizing his speed to close their distance in seconds. Arms enclosed him about the waist, and a body pressed tight to his back where he stood willingly captured. Louis tipped his head to the side to permit Lestat more room when he buried his face in his neck to breathe deep of his desire and the blood beneath that. Lestat refrained from biting him, but hands roamed his exposed flesh, selfishly grasping and grabbing whereas he recently has only caressed and stroked.
Louis struggled to test his hold, and thrilled at the sensation of his arms tightening around him.
“Antagonism, Louis, really?” Lestat asked, audibly amused.
“Always quick on the uptake,” Louis remarked with a grin.
He reached an arm back to bury a hand in Lestat’s hair. He tugged sharply, and in answer, Lestat moaned against his flesh. He moved his hips back, pressing his ass to Lestat’s groin solidly. He felt him hard against him, their flesh separated by infuriating layers of fabric, and as Lestat rocked against him, Louis’s eyes fluttered closed. Lestat bit into him then, evoking a pleased moan from Louis, but when he didn’t draw blood and instead allowed it to passively fill his mouth, he recognized the controlled bite as yet another method of restraint while they moved and rocked against one another.
Emblematic of their entire relationship, Louis couldn’t run without hurting himself in the process.
He gripped Lestat’s forearm with his other hand, balance and reassurance both. I’m here, Louis expressed in his touch. I’m with you.
Lestat did draw blood then for the pleasurable sensation, though he soon pulled back to press open-mouthed kisses to the back of his neck, his trapezius muscle. Louis knew their skin would be streaked with drying blood, but the mess only exacerbated his lust. He’d had enough nigh clinical sex.
Lestat hooked a finger under his belt, giving it a contemplative tug.
“How ‘bout you hurry the fuck up?” Louis asked, a smile evident in his tone. “Only been missing you for almost a century now.”
Lestat hummed his pleasure at that against his skin, his wandering hands pausing to grip his hips.
“You’d prefer I not eat you out here, then?”
Louis felt his mouth fill with saliva, and he squeezed his eyes shut. If he hadn’t been starved for a proper fucking, he’d be on his hands and knees in seconds. The mental image set his skin alight, rendering him harder for Lestat.
“Not tonight,” Louis declined with noticeable regret. “Need you, Lestat. Wanna feel you hard.”
Lestat, clearly into the direct communication, moaned helplessly against his neck.
“Know you’re tired of waitin’, too.”
Lestat turned him around to face him at that, his expression at last gutted open to expose how he ached to touch him. Yes, Louis thought as he drew his twin flame close to claim him with kisses, a little more.
“Need you, my love,” he murmured against his mouth, and he didn’t have to exaggerate his passion as Lestat deftly undid his belt, “Craved you while we were apart, thought of you—” Louis broke off on a gasp once Lestat slid a hand past his pants and underwear to take him in hand. “Even with him.”
He had scarcely finished speaking before they were airborne and gliding towards the bedroom.
Wrapping his legs around his waist, Louis grabbed his face for an obscene kiss, their mouths continuing the conversation non-verbally. Lestat acting on instinct, Louis at long last accepting — craving — the totality with which he loved. Rendering Lestat into a carnal thing remained a point of pride, but now, now he allowed himself to act upon his own desires.
Once Lestat touched the ground at the side of his large bed, he quickly lowered Louis in order to make quick work of remaining clothing. Louis did his best to assist the process, but he heard the telltale sound of shredding cloth, and was utterly enthralled by Lestat’s ardor.
“Liked those pants,” Louis remarked idly, which earned him a sultry smirk.
“I’ll buy you another pair,” he placated, glancing offside briefly to light a candle with the fire gift.
“Vintage,” he rebutted, gripping Lestat’s top to rip it open and off him. As he did so, Louis too lit the remaining candles in the room, casting the elegantly furnished bedroom with warm light and shadow both. He was finding both could coexist.
Lestat, for his part, regarded Louis with awed pride, his cheeks flushed.
“Unfortunate,” Lestat commented hoarsely, far from contrite. He added with no small degree of pleasure: “The gift is effortless for you now, isn’t it?”
Louis stepped back, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, spreading his thighs to draw attention to how hard he was. Lestat watched his every movement, attention visibly diverting back to the situation at hand as he stepped closer to stand between his thighs.
“You wanna talk about that now?”
That served to snap him out of whatever reverie his fledgling competency kink invoked, and in seconds, Louis was pushed onto his back. He laughed as Lestat dragged him by the hips to the edge of the bed, settling his arms overhead comfortably.
“Later,” Lestat replied, greedily taking in the image of Louis spread out for him. He undid the fasteners of his jeans and worked them down and off. “Imperiousness suits you, mon cher.”
“Always has,” Louis retorted, grinning wide.
Lestat leaned over him, clearly aiming for another kiss, but Louis stayed him with a hand at his chest. He caught his gaze to ensure he had his attention.
“Fuck me like you fought me.”
Watching him absorb his words was fascinating. Louis detected shock behind those eyes, but that quickly morphed into intrigue, and finally into resolve.
Lestat shifted to grab lubricant from the bedside table with one hand, while the other gripped his thigh to bend it back and expose him. He uncapped the upturned bottle and drizzled cold lubricant onto Louis’s perineum. The cold against his heated skin made him hiss, but he liked the jolt of it. Liked even more how Lestat looked hungry at the sight of lube traveling between his cheeks. Lestat used fingers to spread the slick liquid over his hole, and Louis sighed sharply at the teasing, probing touches that came and went. He watched Lestat use the remaining lubricant to wet his cock, and he parted his thighs wider to meet him.
Instead of pressing inside immediately, Lestat rubbed the tip of his cock against his sensitive, slick flesh. He rocked against him, sliding effortlessly against his hole and then between his glutes. He moved against him like that long enough that Louis began to writhe and shift his hips in an attempt to claim what he most wanted. His tip caught and pressed inside him periodically, sending delicious pressure and pleasure throughout his body.
Just as he was opening his mouth to urge him on, Lestat sank inside him to the hilt. Louis’s breath left him on a sharp exhale in lieu of words, his head tipping back to stare sightlessly at the ceiling. Lestat didn’t pause to give him a chance to adjust to the stretch of him, and Louis could’ve wept for the relief of it. He drew back and snapped his hips forward again, his hips slapping against his ass. Hands came to grip his thighs to spread them and hold him open, and Louis went with how Lestat moved him gratefully.
“Yes,” Louis panted in between punched out breaths, his fingernails digging into the sheets above his head. “Like that, Lestat. Harder.”
Lestat obliged with a bone-deep rumble that sent gooseflesh spreading across his skin. Using the grip on his thighs, Lestat dragged Louis to meet his full-length thrusts. Louis dropped his arms to hold his own thighs open, freeing Lestat to grip his hips instead for more leverage. Reading him accurately, Lestat held his hips and maneuvered him as though he weighed nothing.
“Fuck—!” Louis cried out, shameless in his need.
His eyes grew hazy, lidded, but he watched Lestat to admire how he wore his ecstasy openly. Aching need in his eyes, his mouth reddened and swollen from their endless biting kisses, he was debauchery personified. Pleasure personified.
“Needed this,” Louis moaned, “Needed you, Les—”
Lestat pressed his hips into the mattress then, driving him into the material to bounce him up and down onto his cock. His voice failed him then, lost to the sensation of being made one once more. All pretense was gone; Lestat was whole and his again.
Lestat’s echoing moans grew louder, his thrusts a deliciously punishing tempo as he repeatedly buried himself inside Louis. Desperate for it, desperate for him. Their shared passion barreled him towards orgasm, but Louis resolved to resist for as long as he could. He wanted to savor this reunion.
Craving closeness, Louis instead locked his ankles at the small of Lestat’s back and yanked him atop of his body. Lestat settled with hardly a hitch in his movements, but responded beautifully to the increased intimacy. His eyelashes fluttered, his eyes sliding closed in his rapture.
“Louis,” Lestat cried against his cheek, their faces turning towards the other to kiss, primal and artless.
Wordlessly, Louis nodded his agreement. He felt it too, this euphoria they’d only found in the other. This pull between them was impossible to resist, and Louis no longer wished to. He was ravenous for all he’d missed, all he’d neglected, all he’d denied them both.
“You and me,” Louis whispered, dragging sharp nails down the length of Lestat’s back.
Lestat cried out and instinctively arched into the contact. He filled Louis completely then, rhythm faltering as he rocked his hips in circular movements to press as deep as he physically could. Louis lifted his hips into the contact, rubbing his trapped cock against Lestat’s groin and lower abdomen. They found their rhythm again, one’s need stoking the other’s until they burned together, an endless feedback loop of pleasure.
Louis uttered fevered praise and encouragement, and Lestat responded beautifully by redoubling his efforts to give him whatever he mindlessly begged for – more, deeper, there.
“Louis,” Lestat whimpered, and Louis cradled him tightly, one arm across his back, the other around his neck. “I—”
“Me too,” Louis encouraged, nodding absently, “Inside me, cher, make me yours.”
He moaned so pitifully and prettily at that, it toppled Louis into orgasm first, pulsing hot and thick between their bodies. As though responding to his pleasure, Lestat moaned low and followed him into oblivion. He clutched Lestat to him, face turned into his hair to breathe in the musky, sweaty scent of him. He continued moving with Lestat, extending their shared release for as long as they physically could before he began to grow oversensitive, the muscles in his thighs quivering. Lestat slowed to a gradual rocking, fucking his cum deeper inside Louis, exhaling a long, blissed out sigh as he savored their joining.
Louis pressed slow, tender kisses to the side of his head, his temple, his cheeks. Lestat moved to separate from him, but Louis squeezed him with weak thighs to keep him close. He settled instead, his arms coming around Louis to hold him tight.
They came down together with mutually tender touches and verbal reassurances until Louis chuckled. Lestat, occupied with trailing delicate fingertips over his face, hummed his curiosity. Louis gripped Lestat’s shoulders, pushing to turn them over. He shivered as Lestat slipped from his body, but recovered enough to sit atop his thighs. Lestat gazed up at him adoringly, his smile a mirror of Louis’s.
“Sated, Saint Louis?”
Louis lowered his gaze to Lestat’s abdomen, his cum streaked across his abdomen and matting what body hair he did have. He moved his hands to smear and rub his cum into his skin, sighing at the sight of him so marked as his. Lestat luxuriated in the attention, and Louis had to kiss him about it. He hauled him upright to lick inside his mouth, fingers buried in his hair.
“We got a lot of catching up to do,” Louis remarked thoughtfully. “And a journal full of inspiration to work through.”