Chapter Text
Louis had a problem. A big, glaring, ugly, shit stain of a problem smeared across the relatively peaceful and wonderfully-boring life that he fought for with Lestat now that they were reunited and married: Lestat wanted to fuck their pool boy.
Why they even HAD a pool was beyond Louis, but when they renovated their house in Uptown New Orleans, Lestat insisted. ‘Mon cheri, wouldn’t you like to make love in a hot tub during the winter months as we watch the night fall after a meal? Do you not enjoy the prospect of skinny dipping, my Louis? I can lather you down in sunscreen and get into your every nook and cranny, mmm?’ Louis obviously laughed because they didn’t need sunscreen, but Lestat just responded that he was ‘subverting the genre,’ and pranced off. Whatever—they had money to burn and there was a certain opulence to having an in-ground pool. Sue him.
The one gratingly-irritating issue with having a pool, however, was the endless and expensive maintenance. It was like every time he woke for the evening, a new dead animal had made its way into the pool and was waterlogged in a filter, one species more confusing than the next. The luscious live oak tree, a century older than Louis, sitting against their wrought iron fence, dropped leaf after leaf after acorn after leaf into the pool, leaving a thick slime, not unlike when Lestat didn't clean the hair trap in their shower for several days on end. Fucker.
What do you do when you have money and don’t want to deal with disgusting things? You hire help! And to assuage your guilt, you tip handsomely and look on with pride as said hired help beams at you when you hand them a wad of cash. Unfortunately, the pool boy that Louis had hired, who was able to come during dusk so that one of them could watch and make sure he did his job, was unnervingly beautiful. He had long, curly hair that cascaded down his back, thick forearms that looked like they could snap someone’s femur in half, abs that visibly tensed and relaxed when he pulled out an especially gross, heavy pool drain, and hands the size of a small animal.
Louis was somewhat used to Lestat having casually wandering eyes. He had mostly come to accept that Lestat appreciated people’s beauty shallowly and fleetingly, and was somewhat aroused most of the time. It was necessary for the rebuilding of their relationship. To his credit, Lestat, even during a tour full of groupies and fans falling all over him and a team of social media interns solely dedicated to deleting nudes sent to his Instagram DMs, remained completely monogamous. Whether this was because Louis happened to be on the tour too with a watchful eye for his behavior, insisting he keep his wedding ring on at all times or because Lestat, in his nasty little nest of despair in the 80 years they were apart had grown a conscience and/or a capacity for shame? Louis didn’t know. Lestat was, for once, a man of his word. On the rare occasions that they sampled from other people, it was together—always together, and neither one of them bottomed or kissed anyone other than each other. They were both keenly aware of where each other was in the world and could rest assured that in the light of the early morning, they would be fast asleep in each other’s arms.
This pool boy—Lorenzo—was something else though. Lestat was truly and utterly doing too much. Once a week for the past month, Lestat would stop everything he was doing and go to sit by the pool in one of their lounge chairs and chat with him. Louis watched with contempt as Lestat giggled like a school girl and brushed his hand over Lorenzo’s shoulder, absentmindedly feeling the tone of his muscles as they spoke. Louis had gotten better at being honest, but the issue of being ‘enough’ for Lestat was always a sore subject. So he just bottled it down and gritted his teeth through the casualness of Lestat throwing himself at Lorenzo and then coming back into their living room while Louis read a book and looked out of their window at the pool like business was usual.
This week, Louis finally had enough. Lestat was taking promo pictures for a new EP during the afternoon, escorted by guards with umbrellas and windowless limousines to and from the studio, and returned home in assless leather chaps, a leather vest not unlike the horrid slash iconic one Shane wore in the pilot episode of The L Word (Louis forced Lestat to sit down and watch early 2000s gay HBO shows for ‘cultural literacy’ ), black eye makeup, and what can only be described as bougie, black stripper heels. Louis wasn’t in the living room when he walked into their house, but was alerted by the sound of Lestat flinging his coat off onto the nearest chair and gasping when he saw none other than Lorenzo and his arms lifting what looked like a dead possum out of the pool. Lorenzo threw it onto their pool deck, landing with a wet splat, and looked at Lestat, his mouth open like a trout. Louis, from his perch at the top of the stairs gazing out of their bay window, could sense the arousal in the air. He could fucking smell the hormones in Lorenzo’s body surging as Lestat did a turn and showed off the asslessness of his chaps.
Louis turned away from the window, rolled his shoulders back, clenched his jaw, and walked over to his office. He ran his hand over the surface of the antique desk, not unlike the one he had at the Azalea, meditatively. He heard Lestat giggle from the office window and he stopped his hand’s course immediately, taking a vintage bottle of whiskey from his desk and throwing it so hard at the wall that the plaster cracked. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms, and sank down into his desk chair slowly. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, rested his feet up on his desk and leaned back, taking longer and longer drags as he listened to the waning conversation outside as it reached its natural end. He extinguished the butt, pinching it between his fingers with a hiss, and inhaled all of the air he could stand. “LESTAT, GET YOUR ASS UP HERE AND SAY HELLO TO YOUR HUSBAND,” he bellowed, loud enough to echo around the high ceilings of their house and knock a picture off of the wall.
“Would you excuse me,” he heard Lestat say, as he walked in long strides through their house and up the stairs.
“Louis? Mon cher, are you in your study?” Lestat said through the closed door. Louis lit another cigarette and shifted back into his chair so he sat straight up.
“Yes Lestat, please open the door.” Damn it, Louis thought. He was instantaneously taken by him and hated himself for it. The vest amplified his ample cleavage, ready to be bitten, the pants cut deep into his narrow hips, making his long legs seem even longer, and the eyeliner around his eyes had smudged slightly as he sweat from the heat. Lestat smiled at him completely unaware of how angry Louis was at him. “Sit down,” Louis said firmly, his face unreadable. Lestat’s smile dropped slightly as he sat into one of the plush chairs by the cluttered bookshelves lining the walls.
“Are you alright, Lou Lou?” Lestat asked, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine concern. This only made Louis more mad. The fucking nerve.
“No, Lestat, I’m not, actually.” He sucked at his cigarette and exhaled the smoke directly into Lestat’s direction before pointing at the hole in the Venetian plastered wall. “Do you see that hole in the wall? I made it around 10 minutes ago.”
“What? When was this exactly? How did I not hear this noise?” Lestat made a move to stand up. “Are you hurt, Louis?” He looked back at the hole, following the mess of plaster down to the broken whiskey bottle in a heap of glass. “Is that the bottle of Johnny Walker I got you? The diamond one?”
“Sit down,” Louis said even more forcefully, staring past Lestat. “No, I’m not hurt, but thank you so much for asking. You must not have heard me. I threw it because I was pissed off. Maybe you were too busy trying to fuck the pool boy.”
Lestat leaned back in his chair and tipped his chin back in an indignant laugh. “Oh, Louis. Me? Lorenzo? No, mon cœr, he merely wanted to see my outfit, that’s all. It is quite delicious, hmm?” He looked back at Louis with a quirk in the corner of his mouth. “Louis, my heart belongs only to you. Haven’t I proved this?”
Louis studied him for a moment and then kissed his teeth when Lestat batted his eyelashes at him. Slut. “Lestat,” he drawled, lowering his legs from their place on his desk to sit authoritatively in his chair. “I’ve known you for a long, long time. I may not be able to read your mind anymore, but I can smell the fucking blood rushing to your dick when you look at him.” Lestat scoffed, tapped his nails on the leg of his chair and blinked back at Louis.
“Nothing to say, Les? Really?”
“I will not lie to you, I am attracted to Lorenzo, but it’s nothing more than a meaningless crush. You mustn’t let this affect you so much, Louis. I thought we’d overcome this kind of sensitivity. ”
Louis huffed a humorless laugh. “Whatever.” He reached into one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a gift box. ”I was gonna give this to you for our anniversary, but I think this is appropriate for right now.” He threw the box at Lestat and he caught it effortlessly. He quirked a brow and unwrapped it, taking out a lacy thong, a pair of thigh high stockings adorned with bows, and a boned, underbust corset. “Go to our room and put it on. Now.”
To his credit, Lestat cleared his throat, flipped his hair over his shoulder and sauntered out of the room. Louis, leaning into the fantasy with all of his chest, kicked his legs onto his desk, unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled a fancy Cuban cigar out of his breast pocket. He was going to share it with Lestat after he got home as a celebratory measure post-EP promo shoot, but he wasn’t really feeling all that generous anymore. He lit it with the tip of his finger and puffed out lazy, intertwining circles into the still air while he waited.
After a beat, he heard the padding of Lestat’s feet against the old hardwood floors and a soft knock on the door. “Louis? May I come in?” Louis opened the door with the mind gift, his mouth positively watering when Lestat came into the room. He was a vision in soft, lacey pink. The corset accentuating his waist was pulled impossibly tight and the ribbons hung down along the spans of his lower back and over the arc of his ass. The thigh high stockings bit into his fuzzy thighs as he turned his feet in submissively. And finally, the thong. The piece de resistance.
Louis hummed as he ran his gaze over the extent of Lestat’s body, taking the cigar out of his mouth to wolf-whistle him. “Give me a spin, doll.” Lestat was uncharacteristically quiet and demure, looking at Louis through hooded eyes and pursing his lips, shuffling his body in a tight circle with a hand cocked on one hip. Louis smiled like a tiger, about to sink his teeth into a mess of meat and gore. “That’s nice, Les. That’s real nice.” He licked his lips and inserted the cigar back into his mouth. He simply looked at Lestat for a long moment, undressing him with his eyes and exhaling smoke into his direction. Lestat stood completely still, blushing deeper and deeper and squinting as the smoke hit his eyes. Clearing his throat, Louis put out the cigar in an ashtray on his desk, clasping his hands on his lap and sitting back in his chair. “Sit on the desk, back to me.” Lestat looked up at him and wordlessly obeyed. The mahogany wood of the desk squashed at the meat of his ass, pushing the thong deeper into his crack.
Slowly, Louis got up, circling to the front of the desk and planting his hands on either side of Lestat’s body, forcing him to lean back on his elbows and stare up at Louis under long eyelashes. “You might be wondering why I made you get all dressed up for me like this. Mostly because you have no regard for anyone but yourself and all of the blood in your body goes to the tip of your dick instead of your brain.”
Lestat smirked at him. It was obvious that his nerves were dissipating slightly—Louis was pissed, but he wasn’t packing his bags to leave or actively taking a shoe in-hand to beat Lestat over the head with it. Also, Lestat’s fatal flaw was and will always be his devotion for Louis and his endless capacity for lust. More than pride, more than a need for notoriety or money or fame. Louis could turn him on with a stray sneeze or an odd raise of his eyebrow. As Louis loomed over him, pushing his bare, warm stomach into Lestat’s thinly-clothed crotch, Lestat began to harden.
Louis noticed immediately and stood back, leaving Lestat to exist mercilessly under a scathingly brutal gaze—decades-long contempt and frustration mixed with knowing devotion and (unfortunately) unconditional love. Ah, the terrifying ordeal of being known.
“When I met you all of those years ago at the Azalea, I had no idea that out of all the whores under my watchful eye, the biggest fucking skank in the room, was you, Lestat. You like it when I say that to you, don’t you? When I tell you just what I think about you when you prance around trying to fuck the pool boy?” Lestat smiled and nodded his head slowly, his lips parting as he exhaled out of his mouth.
“Oh you wanna smirk now? You wanna get smart?” Louis crowded back into Lestat’s space, now placing his large, smooth palm over Lestat’s crotch. “My bimbo whore wife wants to fuck the pool boy. It’s like a bad porno.” He pushed Lestat down until their bodies were completely flush with each other. Lestat was pliant, allowing Louis to lean heavily into him and press into his chest with inhuman fervor. “You just don’t know when to stop, do you? You tell me you love me, you write songs, torture yourself in the name of loyalty,” He crushed his hand into Lestat’s crotch, causing him to cry out in pain, “but then you pull this shit.”
“Louis—ah—I’m, I’m sorry, mon amour, I will stop it at once. I am devoted. I do love you,” Louis twisted his hand “ PUTAIN DE MERDE, of course I am devoted—umfh. I am sorry, I repent my sins, Saint Louis.”
“God, shut the fuck up, Lestat. From the bottom of my heart. Shut up.” Lestat blinked up at him and pouted submissively. “Sit in that armchair.” Louis pulled away from him rapidly and Lestat ducked his head, sliding into the plush, leather chair facing Louis’ desk. Louis ripped the belt off of his pants, moving towards Lestat with blown out eyes. “Hands behind you, come on. Arch your back so your wrists are by the legs of the chair.” Lestat did as he was told and Louis pulled his belt tight around Lestat’s wrists, anchoring him to the sturdy legs of the chair. Lestat whimpered a little as the belt bit into the skin of his wrists. Realistically, he could absolutely unbuckle himself and stand up without question, even though Louis clasped it with firm precision. The belt was more symbolic than anything.
“Are you my slut?” Louis said sternly into his ear
“Yes,” Lestat said, swallowing thickly.
Louis came to loom over him, placing his hands on either side of Lestat’s head as it leaned into the back of the chair. “Yes, what? What’s my name?”
He sighed and bit his bottom lip, trying to pull favor. “Yes, sir.”
Louis crouched down in front of Lestat and nodded his head, his eyes manic and pupils blown. “That’s better, Lestat. That’s much better.” He ran a razor sharp nail along the shaft of Lestat’s dick as it hardened against the lace, teasingly. Lestat hissed and arched his back up into Louis’ touch. “Ah ah, no. Stay down.” Lestat did as he was told and whimpered, a little performatively. Louis ripped one side of the waistband at an agonizingly-slow pace.
Eventually, Lestat’s cock popped out of the tight thong, already red and leaking a slow stream of precum. Louis took it in hand immediately and Lestat threw his head back trying to fuck into Louis’ grip before being shoved back down. Louis pumped his hand at a merciless pace, rubbing the palm of his hand around the sensitive head of Lestat’s cock and gripping the shaft tightly. From experience, he knew this would get Lestat off quickly.
“Don’t cum until I tell you that you can, Lestat,” Louis said, cutting through the loud noise of slick on skin and Lestat’s breathy moans. Lestat’s stomach tensed and the muscles in his thighs tightened inside of the lace stockings. Louis pulled his hand away suddenly, making Lestat’s eyes shoot open and his mouth close. Louis ran his hands along Lestat’s torso, feeling the boning of the corset underneath his hands and pressing flat palms into the flesh of his chest and nipples. Lestat sighed and gurgled into the air brokenly, no longer able to keep up a picture-perfect image of sexuality.
“I do like this corset. Makes your body look like a Coke bottle.” Lestat huffed a laugh weakly and bucked as Louis ran a single finger along his dick. Before he knew it, Louis wrapped two hands around him and was moving at a breakneck speed once again. Every time Lestat got close, Louis would pull away and compliment him while looking wolfishly at him under hooded eyelids.
“Please Louis, I can’t take it anymore. It hurts, my love! Please will you let me cum?” Louis smirked and spat onto Lestat’s dick as his hands ran over it.
“No can do,” he said with a mock-sad sigh and a smile while increasing his pace steadily. Lestat grimaced and sighed. “I need to show my bitch in heat just how devoted I am to her, now don’t I? Convince her to stay even though she shakes her tits in the face of people we hire to clean the pool SHE wanted, even though we never fucking use it.”
“I’m oh—sorry, mon cher“ Louis dug his nails into the meat of Lestat’s thigh, painting his stockings with blood. “AH sir— sir. I’m sorry for my wandering eyes. And I’ll use the pool more, I promise.”
“Y'know what, Les, I like this color on you. Begging, pleading. Incapacitated and in a little bit of pain.” He unhooked his nails from Lestat’s inner thigh and slowed down his movements, meticulously alternating between repeating upstrokes and downstrokes onto Lestat’s cock. His warm hands never left Lestat's dick.
Lestat started to weep. “Ooh, that’s nice, isn’t it? Unrelenting. Feels good, right?” Lestat’s cheeks were painted with a fresh set of bloody tears and he nodded his head with an open-mouthed sob. After another 30 seconds or so, he moved back from Lestat completely, standing up to remove his shirt, pants, and boxers, all without breaking eye contact. Lestat cried out and hit the inside of his lip so hard that blood ran down his chin.
“I’m going to fuck your face now,” Louis said casually, pulling out his thick cock, upturned and hard. Lestat opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, still pooling with blood. Louis stood in front of him and wrenched his head down onto his dick with a firm grip on his long hair, moaning deeply as Lestat suctioned onto him. His dick hit the back of Lestat’s throat over and over again as it was coated in bloody spit.
“That’s good, Lestat. You got a mouth that was made to suck dick, that’s for damn sure. Plush fucking lips and all.” Lestat’s eyes were squeezed shut, but he nodded weakly and hummed in agreement.
Lestat ran his tongue over the underside of Louis’ uncut cock, coming back to himself as the orgasm he was chasing drew away from his grasp. He hooked one leg around the back of Louis’ knees, urging him to fuck his mouth even deeper and Louis let him, panting as he gagged around him intermittently.
As Louis felt himself coming close, he took his cock out of Lestat’s mouth with a pop and replaced it with his fingers, thoroughly covering them with a mixture of bloody spit and the odd chunk of lip flesh. He placed a foot up onto the chair right between Lestat’s legs and inserted two fingers into himself, fucking onto them and prepping himself. His dick was just out of Lestat’s reach.
Louis made quick work of himself, scissoring his fingers and adding a third one to open himself even further. Before Lestat knew it, Louis aligned himself with his dick and sank onto it. They moaned in tandem, heads hanging down and sighing into each other’s open mouths. After breathing through the initial burn and letting his body adjust, Louis started to move, even faster than Lestat was normally used to.
“Let me hear you, Lestat.” He slammed his hips down onto Lestat’s thick dick, rolling his body in a figure-8 periodically so he could not only drive Lestat crazy with constant stimulation, but also to focus on his own pleasure. That’s what this whole charade was about, after all. “C’mon, tell me who has dealt with all of your chronic bullshit. Ah—Tell me, Les! Me or Lorenzo?”
“You sir, my Saint, you, always you,” Lestat choked out, fingers gripping the meat of his palms turning purple in the tight belt.
“You’re damn fucking right. Me. All me” He planted his hands onto Lestat’s chest and threw his head back. Lestat cried out at the change in angle and the increased tightness of Louis’ hole. “Tell me,” Louis started, a bit quieter given his position, but gravely serious and determined. He licked his bottom lip and his eyes shut tightly. “Tell me, Lestat, who dealt with your infidelity in the past? Who is the father of your child?”
“You, sir, oh, you,” Lestat gurgled as he wept into his chest. Louis nodded, arching his back as he chased his own release. “That feels so good, cher, I could eat you. Je t’aime. I’m c-close I’m—”
Louis stopped immediately, settling onto Lestat’s lap while he was still inside of him and grabbing his jaw. “You cum and I leave you to rot in your own mess still tied up in this room and I continue to fuck myself on my fingers in my bedroom, away from you and your foolishness. Got it?” Lestat nodded. “Good.” He picked up the pace and settled his legs so his knees tightened around Lestat’s hips, framing them, and angling his hips down forward, flattening them chest to chest and hitting his prostate.
“You can cum after I cum, I promise.” He said, almost tenderly, looking down to see Lestat’s face twisted up in a mix of agony and bliss. “I’m close, I can feel it, but I will slit your throat once again if you cum before me, I swear on my mother’s grave.” Lestat grunted in what Louis assumed was agreement. He came up to move slower, feeling Lestat’s length completely as he sank down onto him over and over again. “God you’re so fucking big. You fill me up so well, sweetheart.” Louis whispered into the air, gasping. “No wonder everyone wants to fuck you. Can’t blame ‘em, I guess.” He sank down a few more times and palmed his dick languidly, curling up all at once like a cat and painting Lestat’s chest and neck with bloody cum. He cried out a low-toned growl as he came through clenched teeth and extended fangs.
Lestat looked at him, blubbering open-mouthed with snot collecting around his upper lip pathetically. “My Louis, so beautiful. So good to me. I do not deserve you.” Louis opened his eyes and bit into Lestat’s jaw affectionately as he came down, resting his head on his shoulder. After coming to, he realized that—to his credit—Lestat was still hard and wanting inside of him, desperately.
“Okay,” Louis said breathily. “Alright my baby, you can cum.” He settled his sore hips down only once when Lestat came inside of him with a choked wail. Louis held Lestat’s face in his hands, smoothing out his forehead as his brows knit together before rubbing their noses together. As he felt Lestat move through the aftershocks of his orgasm, he drew them apart and kissed the tears moving down Lestat’s face as he meandered through subspace, pleasantly dissociated. Louis pet his fingers along Lestat’s forehead and kissed his cheek.
“Good job,” he whispered into his ear. Lestat could only exhale and hum in response. “Come on,” Louis said a little louder, angling his body so Lestat could access his jugular. “Drink. You lost some fluid and I want you lucid so we can actually talk about this.” Lestat licked at Louis’ throat absentmindedly before biting in and sipping shallow gulps of blood. Louis cradled the back of Lestat’s head in his hands and rubbed at his temples, only pulling away when he felt Lestat’s breath return to normal. Louis nicked his thumb with his teeth, pressing it into his neck to heal the bite marks. He pulled off of Lestat slowly, mindful of how oversensitive they both were. Lestat blinked his eyes open and they followed Louis around as he stood up on shaky legs, staring into space as he was gently untied and his wrists were massaged with drops of blood and soft, warm thumbs. Louis kissed each of his wrists and then came to stand in front of Lestat again, offering his hand. “We’re disgusting and need to shower.”
Lestat attempted to stand up with little success, sliding back into his own mess on the slippery chair. Louis chuckled and hauled Lestat up by his armpits, allowing him to lean into his hip as they walked to their bathroom together. He set Lestat against the counter, urging him to turn around so he could untie the corset. Louis made quick work of the ribbons, then crouching down to take off the thong, absolutely ripped to hell and bloodied. After he’d tossed both of them onto the floor, he turned Lestat back around to face him and took off the stockings pressing into his thighs. When he popped back up to his feet, Lestat was looking at him with a wonderfully-human look on his face.
Louis started noticing these little facial expressions only after they reunited. The side of Lestat’s mouth would wobble and he would suck one side of his bottom lip into his mouth to worry it between his teeth. His eyebrows would remain level, but his eyes would widen softly, almost modest. He’d probably never say it out loud, but Louis was pretty sure he was the only one who was allowed to see Lestat like this—actually fragile and actually small with stakes and sincerity. It was like Lestat was saying ‘I’m uncomfortable with not feeling like I’m dominating this situation but I’m here and I love you. Thank you for loving me back.’
He closed the distance between them and planted a firm palm on Lestat’s jaw, rubbing at his top lip. Lestat smiled down at him tentatively and Louis kissed him softly for the first time that night, patting his cheek. “C’mon. I got stuff drippin’ down the back of my legs—I can’t take either one of us too seriously.” Lestat nodded and took his hand, stepping into their bathtub.
Louis turned on the water and they both shivered at the shock being showered in water hot enough to boil and immersed in steam. Lestat wrapped his arms around Louis’ neck and rested his arms on his shoulders. He smiled down at Louis tenderly and kissed his temple. Louis hummed and gripped onto Lestat’s hips chastely but firmly.
“I don’t like it when you flirt with other people, Lestat. I know it’s a part of your personality and I’ve put up with it before, but I’m over it.” Lestat nodded against Louis’ head and let him continue, shifting his feet so they were both in the steam of the water. “If we’re in this and committed to each other, I need you to act like it.”
Louis looked up at Lestat and pushed them apart slightly with a stern look. “I can’t make you do anything, but know in your heart of hearts that I am worth more than being the doting husband who sticks around out of obligation and desperation. I love you and will love you unconditionally, but I do not need you. And that’s a good thing.” Lestat sneered slightly and opened his mouth before Louis put up his hand to stop him.
“I’m not finished yet. We are able to survive apart, but I choose you every single day. Or night, I guess.” He rolled his eyes and tossed his free hand while the other one dug into Lestat’s hip. “Whatever, my point is, I am not leaving you, but I need you to be more honest with me the next time you have a crush. And I deserve better.”
Lestat looked at him for a moment and then nodded his head firmly. “You’re right, Lou Lou. You do deserve better.” He cleared his throat and tossed his wet hair behind him. “I apologize, mon ange. I really do. You are enough for me and you should hear this more often.” Louis patted his cheek and hugged him, sighing.
“Lorenzo’s hot,” he mumbled after a beat. Lestat emanated a low chuckle and rubbed his hands down Louis’ back soothingly, settling his chin down onto damp curls. “If you’d told me before, maybe we could have coordinated something,” Louis said playfully, a bit louder now and bit into Lestat’s pec lightly.
“I’m sure something could still be arranged, cher.” Lestat pulled away from the top of Louis’ head and shot Louis a smirk. Louis scoffed immediately and crossed his arms.
“Ah ah. No sir. Do you not get it? Why the fuck would I give you what you want?” Louis scowled at Lestat and tightened his arms around himself. “Kill him. I’m not asking you to.” Lestat blinked in surprise but smiled back at Louis easily.
“Alright. You overestimate how much I care about this boy. He is accommodating for our needs, yes, but he is replaceable, I’m sure.” Louis raised a brow and stayed where he stood. “I assure you of this. We can feast on him together.”
“Fine. Thank you.” Louis nodded and eventually relented when Lestat smiled back and reached out his arms, squeezing his arms around Lestat’s back and shutting his eyes tightly. They breathed in the steam around them, letting the filth wash off of them steadily. Lestat eventually tapped Louis’ back to urge him to let go and reached for their shared bottle of artisanal, rosemary soap and a loofah. He lathered Louis up thoroughly, from the tips of his toes to his hairline, pausing to place a dollop of suds onto his nose with a dorky smile. Louis scrunched his face up and giggled, batting Lestat’s hands away. He returned the favor and washed Lestat’s body, paying special attention to every place the corset dug into his pale skin and where blood dried and cracked on his face.
As their fingers began to get pruney, Louis kissed Lestat’s neck and turned around to shut the water off. They each grabbed their respective towels and dried themselves off. Louis held out his hand once they were dry and his bonnet was fetched from the medicine cabinet and placed on his head. Lestat smiled and took it, leading them both out of the bedroom and into their bedroom, opting to curl up in their silk-covered bed rather than their shared coffin.
“Lorenzo has left for the night,” Lestat yawned into Louis’ zebra-print bonnet after they had snuggled up together. Louis needed to hear Lestat’s heart beating. “He’ll be gone forever soon, I can assure you of this, mon cher.” Louis nodded and picked his head up so that he could kiss Lestat deep and slow, without objective. They broke apart and rested their foreheads together.
Lestat opened his eyes and witnessed Louis in all of his close-eyed, relaxed glory. If you took a blender into the sky, stuffed stardust and all the rings of Saturn inside of it, baked it in a cake pan, iced it with wisdom, patience, and kindness and tossed it back down to earth as a merciful gift to humanity, it wouldn’t even begin to describe the being that was Louis. No camera could capture the depths of his jade eyes, because they were too steeped in grace. No tape recorder could mimic the cadence of his melodic voice, too honeyed with satin and divinity. There was no copying, there was no mimicry, there was no replacement. He could wiggle his way into Louis’ brain, charge admission to the whole of the world so that every idiot in every idiot land could eat his thoughts, swim in his memories, and see the world through his eyes, but even that wouldn’t do him justice. To know Louis was to listen to Louis. To know Louis was to be loved by Louis. And he gave that love with both hands, squeezed together and sticky, like a toddler crushing an ice cream cone between his fingers.
Lestat often pondered the extent of Louis’ self-sabotage and wavering self-belief with endless fury and contempt. He wanted to beat everyone who’d ever hurt Louis, telling them that he wouldn’t amount to anything—to stay quiet and complacent in his own suffering—with a bat.
“I can hear you thinking yourself into a black hole,” Louis said sleepily with his eyes closed, burrowing his head into Lestat’s neck and inhaling deeply, enjoying the scent of blood passing through his arteries. “And yes, Lestat. I love you too just the same amount, even when you’re the worst. But you're also the best. You’re no worse than the rest of us. My sweet little magnetic monster.” He opened his eyes and kissed Lestat’s nose. “Mine. Fuck everyone else.”
Lestat chucked and knocked their noses together before kissing Louis. “Yes, yours. You have my word.”