𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : You have some questions on how Lestat’s vampiric powers work. He’s more than happy to demonstrate.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : slightly explicit, telepathic sexting
The trumpet player tonight at the Red Mill is showing off. The notes trilling in rapid fire, supported by the buzz of laughter and conversation that fills the speakeasy. But the people love it. They dance, illegal liquor flooding their veins, the air smoky with tobacco. The party never stops in the French Quarter, no matter how the authorities may try.
Tonight, your lover has taken you out on a date. You sit with him, tipping back your bubbles as he smokes his cigarette, eyes glittering while he watches you. His gaze feels heavy, and you swear you can feel the whisper of a touch moving across your shoulder, down your arm. A lovers caress, unseen to the eye. A shiver rolls through you and you squeeze your legs together, attempting to alleviate the growing ache.
You’ll never get used it. Having him inside you, in your body and mind. Feeling his fingers curl around you, as his thoughts intertwine with your own, so tempting and damning. Just this evening as he had risen from his coffin, he had come to you, made you weep from pleasure before whisking you out into New Orleans’ streets, the sun finally set safely below the horizon.
You live for the night now. Come alive as the moon rises, as your lover wakes.
“How do you do it?” you ask him suddenly, leaning eagerly across the table towards him. He quirks a fine brow, though he already knows what you’re about to ask him. He always knows. “I mean, the mind thing. How does it work? Do you just think at people? Is it loud? Do you hear everything all the time?”
It’s hard to imagine the kind of power he must possess. Hard to wrap your mortal brain around the idea of having constant access to the thoughts that surround you, the endless inner musings and secrets never spoken aloud. Can’t understand how it doesn’t drive a person mad.
But Lestat hardly looks disturbed. Rather, he looks pleased, like a cat that’s caught the canary. His lips quirk, a sharp grin as he stubs his cigarette slowly in the ash tray, the smoke curling gently up, up and away. You can smell the nicotine, feel eager to taste it on his tongue.
“Trade secret, my dear,” he tells you. And then, in a teasing whisper as he leans towards you, “But it’s less shouting, more… slipping a hand under skirts.”
You can feel rather than see his hand under the table, reaching out to brush where your legs are hidden.
Quiet. Intimate.
It startles you slightly, his voice as it drifts through your mind, his gaze still steady on you. Gentle and warm, like a tongue as it licks your thoughts. You wonder then if he can hear the pounding of your heart, if he can smell your excitement in the air.
Yes, cherie, I know all. You look so pretty the way you blush. You look so pretty when you’re desperate for me.
You see it then, the moment he brings to the forefront of your mind, memories of you intertwined, his sweat dripping on your skin, your eyes wide as he stretches you open. You on your back in the townhouse an hour ago, thighs trembling over his shoulders, the pleas that fell from your lips, how beautiful they sounded in his ears. You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, warm and mortifying.
Lestat leans back then, the picture of innocence. “Voilà,” he says. “Easy. Though I hardly need the gift. Mortals are so terrible at hiding what they want.”
“And you’re not?” You can’t help the challenge that falls from your lips, unable to resist the urge to fight for the upper hand. Something about the way he says mortals, as if trying to lump you in with all the rest.
But his eyes gleam.
Au contraire, mon coeur. I want you badly. Along with every other man and woman in this room. Look.
He tilts his head and you follow his gaze to the woman at the bar. She lounges in a scantily short dress, her stockings and slim ankles on display where she is perched. A cigarette in one hand, large, dark eyes peering at you from under the fringe of her short bob, lips pulling out a drag of smoke.
She’s been watching us all night, wondering if you taste as sweet as you look. Wondering if I share.
Your breath stutters in your chest, and you peer shyly at the woman as she cocks an eyebrow curiously at you. It looks like an invitation. You whip back towards Lestat, your growing embarrassment making the room suddenly seem unbearably hot.
A couple passes by then, hands linked, laughter ringing out in the air. Young, beautiful, in love with life and the party around them and the alcohol thrumming in their system. The man glances at you before quickly looking away, and you wouldn’t have thought anything of it, until Lestat whispers in your mind once again.
He’s imagining what you might look like on your knees. While I watch. Quite a vivid imagination, I must say.
The man looks back then to catch another glimpse of you before he disappears into the crowd.
“You’re wicked, Lestat,” you say with a pout.
“And you’re radiant. I could go all night, darling. Would you like to hear more?”
“You’ve made your point.” You can’t help the smile that creeps along your lips at this silly game he plays. But feel as if you might combust if he carries on, that you might melt into the ground in mortification if you hear one more dirty thought whispered in your mind.
Lestat leans closer then, elbows on the table, gaze penetrating and says softly, “Every man and woman here dreams of ruining you. But you still taste me on your tongue, don’t you? Does your jaw still ache, cherie?”
“You know it does.” Your lashes flutter as you follow his lead, falling into his orbit. “And you never said thank you.”
“I apologise for my rude manners,” he says, amused. “How can I make it up to you?”
Your lips part but you don’t get the chance to answer before he brings a hand up, swiping his thumb along your lower lip.
“I could take you now. I could make the waiter drop his tray just by thinking of you spread on this table, skin bare, my mouth…”
The passing waiter does stumble then, as if someone had yanked on an invisible string, and the drinks topple over, splashing on the ground. You gasp and duck your head, trying not to notice the dark liquid now pooling across the floor, creeping towards to your feet.
Lestat laughs, low, delighted. In one fluid movement, he stands and offers his hand. He looks like an angel haloed in the soft lamp light, beckoning you to heaven. “Come,” he says, as you slip your hand into his, letting him lift you from your seat, from the safety of the booth. “Let’s make the whole Quarter ache for you.”
Warnings: strong language, allusions to sex and concerns of assault, mind reading, dysfunctional found families, Lestat admitting he used to be kinda sexist
Author’s note: okay so i forgot the canon that vampires can’t hear the thoughts of their spawns? so for the sake of a little fantasy delulu time let’s just ignore that. this is more of a character study than anything else bc i just think they’re neat.
masterlist
“You fucked Lestat?”
You gritted your teeth, hissing out an embarrassed breath and gesturing for Daniel to lower his voice as the patrons at the tables around you glanced over at his exclamation.
Your former boss and constant mentor had gotten a lot more brash since the vampire Armand jumped him and made him a bloodsucking creature of the night. He used to be straight up insufferable; at least until he allowed the cracks to show during a late night editing session several years ago, in which he revealed how much you reminded him of his daughters, how much he cared for you in a way that was deeper than just a writer and his assistant. He was still insufferable afterward, but you were bonded, considered him family; the pissy, dangerous uncle with a heart of gold you never had.
Which is why you didn’t appreciate him delving into your thoughts and witnessing the orgasm the vampire-turned-rockstar you’d been interviewing with him for the past month had given you just two nights prior.
“Okay, first of all, shut the hell up,” you snapped in a hiss-whisper. “Second of all, you promised not to read my mind, you freak.”
“Hey, that one wasn’t on me,” Daniel retorted gruffly, downing the rest of his whisky in one swig to clear his mind of the traumatic image of Lestat’s face contorted in ecstasy. “That one was so strong I had no choice but to see it. Now I won’t be able to think of anything but what Lestat’s cock feels like when I look at him for the rest of this project.”
You gagged. At least he hadn’t seen you naked. You liked him way too much, despite him being himself, and didn’t want any need to cut ties with him to arise.
“Seriously though, what have I told you about getting personally involved with a subject?” Daniel quipped. He’d recovered from the shock of it all, now glaring at you sternly over the rim of his frameless glasses.
“… To not do that,” you answered sheepishly.
There was a reason you never followed him into the journalism field, only helping on the Lestat project because he’d asked you to, offering to pay twice your annual salary for your assistance; you were way too empathetic, too loving to detach yourself from the people you encountered on personal interest projects like these. It had happened with much less disastrous results when he’d interviewed Louis and Armand, leading to an all-too-close friendship with Louis that persisted even after the project was over and the book published.
A friendship which, thinking of it now, was probably in serious jeopardy now that you’d knocked boots with his ex husband.
“Oh, he’s pissed,” Daniel answered the thought without it being voiced. You scowled, wanting to throw the nearest, heaviest object at him.
“Quit reading my thoughts!” you demanded. “Why is Louis even in your head right now anyway?”
I heard him say you fucked Lestat. That can happen, kind of a subconscious thing when vampires are socially connected like us.
Louis’ disembodied voice seethed in your head, but not with anger at you like you’d expected and feared; he was gunning for Lestat, ready to tear the balls from his scrotum for seducing you, a defenseless mortal, when you already had so much stake in vampire entanglements being Daniel’s protege and Louis’ platonic companion.
You groaned, standing abruptly, shaking the glassware on the table noisily as you did.
“I’m leaving,” you spat. “I need two seconds away from you overgrown mosquitos.”
You stormed out of the restaurant, not caring how much of a scene you made, red in the face that Daniel was trying to suppress laughter at your dig. You were thankful that he didn’t try to call you back, knowing your limits, always respectful of the cooling-off periods you took when you would inevitably butt heads.
The city was cool and peaceful as you exited the building and walked along the river, watching the skyline on the opposite bank and taking deep, heaving breaths.
You felt so stupid for falling for Lestat the way you did, letting him into your bed when you knew every red flag about him; least of them that he would eat you if you weren’t careful. It had been so long since you’d felt so wanted though, and fucking him had made you feel more than just desired; he’d romanced you, devoured you, made love to you in such a way that you felt like your soul had been touched, kissed, worshipped via the senses of your skin. Every second thought was a memory, of his soft laughter, his husky voice in your ear, his stubble scraping the insides of your thighs as his nails dug into your plush skin. You could still feel his lips, the tenderness of them, their ghosts making their way from your jaw to your neck to your breasts to your stomach and lower, lower, until he was playfully nipping at your ankle.
You sighed heavily. You wished he meant any of it.
At least you see he’s a liar.
Louis’ voice cut clear through your own internal monologue, making you grit your teeth.
You won’t make the same mistakes I did with him.
“Louis, I’d really like a moment alone,” you quipped out loud. “I don’t want you in my head right now.”
I’m just making sure you’re okay. It’s a lot, I know, but it’s all ‘cause we care about you.
“Maybe, but it’s also because you all hate Lestat,” you grumbled. “Daniel maybe not so much but you, you especially hate him. You’re going to hold my own stupidity against him when I’m just as to blame as he is for fucking my best friend’s ex.”
Lestat has supernatural powers of manipulation. He could have compelled you into sex and made you feel like it was all your idea.
What Louis didn’t know is that it was your idea. Much as he still loved to pretend that Lestat was this infallible supervillain, all superficial charm and evil intentions without any real substance, the truth was that somewhere, Lestat still cared for him, and in the years since their parting had learned to respect him. You noticed it throughout your friendship with Louis in the way he kept his distance, never pressing, never begging for forgiveness or for Louis to take him back as a lover; it became even more apparent when you met him for the first time and his eyes hardly strayed from you, his attraction to you as little-guarded as every other emotion he felt, but he never once did so much as even flirt with you. He knew what you meant to Louis, knew that acting on his desires would hurt him deeply; it was you who'd crossed the line, asking if he'd like to meet you for dinner after shooting under the guise of "getting to know him better, without lights and cameras in the way", you who invited him to your hotel room, you who told him it was okay, he could kiss you if he really wanted. None of it had been compulsion; you spent enough time around vampires to know when your thoughts had stopped being your own.
"Don't make me a victim," you snapped back at Louis. "You know me better than that."
I know Lestat better than that, too.
"So what, you think Lestat only fucked me to get on your nerves? Because I'll be honest, Lou, I've spent enough time with him to believe that he's not the same bitchy abuser he was when you were together. He's let a lot of it go."
Don't defend him.
"Don't belittle me!"
She's right, Louis. You're infantilizing her. You and I know well she is not some helpless damsel.
"Oh for fuck's sake, not you t-"
You stamped in an angry fit, turning as you tossed your bag onto the cobbled sidewalk in frustration, expecting the lane beside you to be empty but instead meeting the striking blue eyes of a lean, elegant man perched under a nearby streetlight. He grinned at you, amused, stubbing out his cigarette under a studded boot before sauntering towards you.
"... I didn't think you'd actually be here," you told Lestat, stating the obvious.
"I knew you and Daniel were dining nearby to exchange notes," he explained. "I was coming anyway, to offer to walk you back to your hotel, when I heard you arguing with my old paramour. Bonjour, mon cher."
You clenched your hands, focusing on the press of your nails into the lines of your palms, affectively blocking Louis from intruding on any more of your thoughts. It took effort, but it was possible.
"I don't want him to hear us. Please," you begged Lestat. "… I would really like it if you walked me home."
"Of course," he replied. "You have my word."
He bent and gathered your abused bag from the pavement, returning it to you before offering his arm. You took it in a tentative grasp, resting our fingertips in the crook of his elbow. Together, you made your way along the riverside.
The walk was silent for several minutes, time spent basking in the beautiful weather, the unusual serenity of the empty street. With every gentle breath of wind you could smell him, metallic under the musky sweetness of expensive cologne, the same scent you found on your sheets the morning after he'd spent the night. He raised his opposite hand to cover yours where it lay on his sleeve, giving your knuckles a gentle squeeze.
"I presume he found out about us," Lestat speculated, breaching the subject much more gracefully than you would have.
You nodded, a pit of shame opening in your stomach and starting to gnaw at you.
"Yeah. And even though I'm the one who started it, he's convinced you compelled me to get back at him."
Lestat tsk'ed, sucking on his teeth.
"Dégoûtant, those of our kind who do such things. The sex is no fun if your partner is an unwilling puppet. Louis remains certain I did the same to him."
"You stalked him and killed the priest he was confessing to."
"We fucked before that. No coercion necessary."
You glanced over to find the man fixing you with a teasing smirk, another pulse of his fingers around yours.
"Ma cherie, I knew if I were to have you, you would have to come to me of your own volition," Lestat continued. "I knew you would not come willingly if I tried. You were 'off limits', for lack of a better term."
"Because of Louis," you finished his thought.
He sighed softly, tilting his head back as he searched for the correct words.
"... Not just because of Louis," he finally stated. "You are very protective of yourself. I do not think you are entirely aware of it, but you hold your knowledge of your worth like a shield. It is what drew me to you. Instead of fawning over me or outright hating me, you made me feel as though I had to prove myself worthy of you, gain your favor and acceptance to exist in your eyes, let alone seduce you. You demand your permission be given before others may lust after you. It is quite sexy, for a certain type of man."
"And you're that certain type of man?"
Lestat chuckled.
"Excessive eagerness bores me in a lover," he mused. "I enjoy a challenge, and yours is uniquely beautiful."
You considered his words, feeling yourself start to ease. He certainly didn’t sound like a jilted lover trying to get back at an ex, but an inherent distrust still tugged at you.
Something vibrated at your side, pulling you from your thoughts. Lestat huffed as he separated from you to remove his phone from his jacket pocket, laughing jadedly as he showed you the caller ID: Louis de Pointe du Lac. He flicked the call to voicemail, and a moment later turned up the speaker so you could hear the message Louis left.
“I know you’re with her, bitch. Pick up.”
Lestat chuckled, shaking his head as he pressed delete.
“He used to tell me I was melodramatic,” he joked. “I suppose there’s more of my blood within him than either of us realized.”
He took your arm again, pressing himself close into your side, keeping you near.
“… Truthfully I did not want Louis to ever know,” he confessed. “I can feel his adoration of you. He wishes only to protect you the way…”
He didn’t finish the thought, but you heard it as clearly as if you had your own telepathic abilities.
“I know I remind him of Claudia,” you responded. “And in his defense, you do have a habit of killing the women he cares about most.”
Lestat huffed out a soft laugh, jaded, guilty. Perhaps even remorseful.
“He was going to leave me no matter what,” he murmured. “I attempted to delay the inevitable and in so doing I destroyed us both. He does not want the same fate for you, but I cannot deny it, agneau; I want you badly.”
The admission chilled you, warmed you, sent currents through your core to your limbs to your head that made you dizzy. How exhilarating it was to be coveted by the man you desired most.
“I can’t be caged, Les,” you warned him despite the tender thrill of it all. “My willpower is much stronger than Louis’. I’ll only hurt you worse if you try to chain me up.”
“You make me want to be better, despite my propensity to… well, to not do that,” he replied. “Louis… his love for you, what happened between us… the value you know you have. You are a goddess to me. I lay myself at your feet and beg forgiveness. I will do everything to deserve it.”
“… Then you did mean it,” you noted after a beat. “When you said the other night that you want to be with me.”
“I always mean that when I say it,” Lestat replied. “I want forever with you if you will take it.”
“Forever is a big ask after one night together,” you relayed. “If we last… ten years together, I’ll consider it.”
Lestat chuckled, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.
“Ten years is nothing to an immortal life,” he said. “I would wait hundreds if you asked.”
As you came up to the entrance of your hotel, your phone began to ring. You sighed, digging through your bag until you found the offending device and checking the caller ID, though you knew you wouldn’t need to. You sent Louis to voicemail, opening up your messaging app to text him instead.
I’m fine, you told him. Les and I are just talking through some stuff.
It didn’t even take a few seconds before his reply came through.
You’re calling him “Les” now?
You rolled your eyes, typing furiously, quickly, before setting your phone to silent and shoving it back into your bag.
I called him Daddy the other night. Would you prefer that?
Lestat laughed as he read over your shoulder, cradling your head in one of his hands and pulling you close to kiss your temple. He let his lips linger, his nose buried in your hair, the act so loving you felt yourself wanting to melt into him, into eternity and oblivion with him. You knew better than to give in so easily.
“I like the way you bite,” he confessed. “Feisty women used to irritate me, but I have come to appreciate them. I like the way you wear your spirit.”
Your expression softened as you looked in his eyes. You knew this change was because of Claudia, his guilt over the part he played in her death. You didn’t say as much, simply lacing your fingers with his and leading him through the sliding glass doors into the hotel lobby.
Daniel was waiting for you inside, leaned against one of the ugly chairs in the lounge by the reception desk, launching himself gracefully off it and striding towards you with purpose as you entered. You tried to remove your hand from Lestat’s, but he held firm.
“Louis’ about to get on a plane and use your severed head as a punching bag,” Daniel gruffed, looking at the fellow vampire. “Very vivid imagery I’m getting here.”
If you weren’t speaking to Louis, Daniel would be. He tried so hard to act detached but the truth was he cared just as deeply for Louis as he did for you. It was sweet, in a fucked up way. You tried not to remember the fact that Daniel was very disappointed about not fucking him, high off his ass, in a coffin when they first met in the 70s.
“Tell Louis I’m fine,” you told him. “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”
“You’re mortal,” Daniel rebuffed, “you’re practically a lamb in a lion’s den. Armand erased my memory and took my own agency away from me for fifty fuckin’ years and you think this asshat won’t do the same or worse to you?”
“Well for one thing I’m not tweaked out on twenty different kinds of heroin and ecstasy so I’ve got that working in my favor.”
It was a low blow, and you regretted it the moment you said it. You shrank back at the hurt in Daniel’s eyes, but you could feel something involuntarily within him, like he knew he deserved it. He sighed, glowering at Lestat.
“Lie to me and I’ll find out and feed you your own testicles,” Daniel warned. “Did you compel her?”
“No.”
An answer without hesitation, firm, paired with a gentle squeeze of your hand. Daniel sized him up for a moment before backing down, but only slightly.
“Call Louis,” he said to you. “Or he’ll kill your little concubine here.”
You smirked a little as he gestured to Lestat, the tension between the two of you broken.
You gonna be okay? Need me to keep watch tonight?
A slight shake of your head and the issue was dropped. Daniel nodded, placing a hand on your shoulder as he passed you and gripping you tightly, a silent acknowledgement of his care. You watched as he slid out the hotel doors, no doubt off to hunt now that the night’s drama was subsided.
“To be loved by some of the worst people living in this or any era,” Lestat mused, lighthearted. “How does it feel?”
You laughed softly, wrapping your arm around his sinfully tiny waist and folding into his side.
“Exhausting,” you replied. “It’s like I’m living in an episode of Real Housewives, except instead of a bunch of middle aged gold diggers I’m surrounded by disaster gays who have all fucked each other at least once.”
“Daniel’s not my type. At least you’re safe from that.”
You held each other in the elevator up to your floor, the walk to your room silent in a comfortable way. Lestat paused at the threshold after you slid your key in, standing close but not crossing into the room. His eyes traced your features, gentle, reverent.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, barely a whisper.
You shook your head, your nose almost brushing his.
“It’ll only cause more problems if you’re here when I call Louis,” you regretfully explained. “I don’t want to drag up any of the bones that should stay buried.”
Lestat nodded, conceding despite how tense you could feel he was, every muscle contracted against the press of rejection, no matter how fleeting, how gentle. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, palms laid on his chest, holding the kiss firm until you needed to breathe. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you pulled away, stealing another kiss from your forehead.
“I will be listening if you need me, or want me,” he told you. “Bonne nuit… my sweetest love.”
You resisted parting from him as much as he did you. You wanted nothing more than to curl into your mattress like you did with him before, when your bodies were spent and still tangled in each other, his head on your chest and his hands tracing every curve they could reach. He was impossibly easy to submit to. It scared you. It thrilled you.
Louis answered your call after the first ring, going on a minutes-long tirade about the dangers of being alone with Lestat the moment he picked up. You laid back on the pillows on the bed and just listened, letting him release his rage to make way for more civilized conversation.
“You remember we already had sex, right?” you drawled once he quieted. “And that I’m neither dead nor undead and he has in fact called me.”
“That isn’t my point,” Louis snapped.
“Lou, please,” you begged, exasperated, exhausted. “I don’t want to fight. If you’re upset with me for sleeping with Lestat because he’s your ex and that’s a shitty thing for a friend to do, I can accept that. I’ll walk away from him forever if that’s the reason you’re doing all of this because the last thing I want is to hurt you. But if it’s still about what happened between you two, with Claudia, I don’t want to be dragged into that. That’s for the two of you to resent each other over for eternity. The Lestat I know has grown from that and I want to give him the chance to show me as much.”
Louis was silent for several moments, no doubt considering the very uncomfortable truth that he actually didn’t care what you did with Lestat so long as the man treated you well. He was likely pacing, prowling back and forth along the pit of his living room, shoulders tense and teeth slightly bared. You simply waited, allowing him to work it through and come to you with his own conclusion.
“You’re sure he didn’t compel you?” Louis asked after ages, his voice resigned.
“You and I both know Lestat only wants a lover who’s willing. He’s an asshole but he’s not that big of an asshole that he’d rape someone.”
“… Yeah, unfortunately he does have a heart somewhere inside him,” Louis surrendered. “He likes it when people doubt he does but he does have one.”
“Nobody doubts he does,” you said with a slight smile. “He’s very bad at keeping it hidden.”
Louis chuckled softly, and you could practically feel the weight lifting from his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he told you. “I just can’t see another person I love get hurt by what’s between Lestat and me.”
“You won’t,” you promised. “If he does anything even a little bit out of line he’ll have hell to pay from all of us. And honestly I think he’s just… tired. Tired of the pain of it all. You hurt him too, you know.”
“I know,” Louis murmured. “I also know that if anyone’s got enough love and strength in their heart to handle him, it’s you. You’re good at dealing with toxic men.”
“I know,” you deadpanned. “It’s literally the only thing I ever do.”
Louis laughed, genuinely laughed, the sound rolling from his stomach and into the atmosphere, cracking your heart wide open. You didn’t hear him laugh nearly enough, and he deserved to.
“I miss you,” he confessed, mirroring your own emotions. “Come to Dubai when you and Daniel are done blowing smoke up Lestat’s ass. We can drink coffee and do yoga and catch up on all the trash TV we missed watching together because of the time zones.”
You smiled, wishing he were in the room so you could pull him into your arms. There was nothing better than to hold him, to know you were loved for yourself and nothing else; no ulterior motives, just affection between two souls.
“I’ll be there,” you replied. “I’m gonna need a fucking vacation after this anyway.”
Another laugh, refreshing and reviving as the first birdsong in spring. You would never not be thankful for these men, you realized, surrounded not only by their problems but by their love in all its varying forms. It was humbling.
“I love you, Louis,” you said, not thinking, just feeling.
“I love you, too,” he echoed. “You should get some sleep.”
“I should,” you conceded with a sigh. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Let you know if Lestat’s back on his old bullshit.”
“He won’t be,” Louis stated, quiet, firm. “He knows what good he has with you.”
Your chest tightened, fluttered. There was no way you could be as good as that, but you would always allow Louis to let you believe it.
“Goodnight, Lou.”
“Goodnight, lamb.”
You stood and tossed your phone on the bed, sighing heavily, rolling your shoulders to release some of the tightness in them. Your head felt light in a good way, clear like coming out of a bad migraine. You crossed the room to the balcony doors and slid them open, stepping into the night and just allowing yourself to breathe.
“Is he over his little tempter tantrum?”
Lestat was there waiting for you, perched on the railing like a stray cat, his eyes just as bright as he watched you come toward him. You laughed, shaking your head, but moving no more hesitantly into his open arms.
“You’re ridiculous,” you chided. “Please don’t make this a habit.”
Lestat grinned, showing his teeth, hooking his arms low on your waist and letting you lean on him as he stole a peck from your lips.
“Take me as I am, cherie,” he playfully begged. “When I love, I love viciously, and for always.”
You held his face in your hands, your thumbs smoothing over the high points of his sharp cheeks, watching the way his lashes drooped with longing as he looked back at you. He still had a lot of proving himself to do, but you would hold him close to your heart until he earned the key to it.
“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered. “No sex. Just hold me while I sleep.”
“I will always,” he breathed. “As long as you want me, I am yours.”
You took Lestat’s hand and led him inside, shutting the doors and the world along with them. You slept cradled on his chest that night, his eyes glowing in the darkness of your room as he watched the hours creep on into blushing dawn through the cracks in the tightly drawn curtains. Your soft snores were like gentle melodies to him, every little imperfection a gift, a new beauty for him to unravel and cherish. When you finally woke and were quietly surprised to find him still at your side, he ached, his love for you solidifying itself in his long dead heart in that very moment. Daniel and Louis thought themselves your protectors, but he would maim himself, stand in open sunlight, drive the stake through his own chest if it meant ensuring your safety, your trust in him.
If he himself were the monster he was protecting you from, he would kill the beast thousands of times, again and again, until it no longer chased you.
Summary: You and Lestat's tumultuous relationship ended on an explosive note ages ago, but as fate would have it, you reunite one day at one of his concerts, reigniting old passions.
Warnings: NSFW! minors DNI.
a/n: Saw the new trailer and immediately realized I need that and should write this. That's all thanks bye.
w.c: 1,624
You stood cemented to the mosh pit's littered floor, inhaling the surrounding smoke and sweat that wafted through the atmosphere. You watched him in all his glory, blonde hair incandescent courtesy of the stage lights. You hated how entranced you were, how pretty you found him, and how this persona fit him like a glove. You mentally scolded yourself for feeling the way you did right now, because those feelings were what put you in this 60 year old predicament. History was almost threatening to repeat itself and you didn't need that to happen, but deep down, you knew you wanted it to and felt an overwhelming sense of premature defeat and surrender because of that.
You quickly got over your woes when you were reminded of why you were here in the first place. You had to put an end to the messages; his yearning whispers that were so frequent they made your ears ring. You couldn't take it anymore. They were like flashes, growing more persistent and determined by the day. You came to confront the source once and for all.
As Lestat performed and sang away, the stage lights continued to swing back and forth across the sea of motion. The rotating lights seemed to find their way to one specific face, yours. It glowed with every turn, almost as if by design. Every time the lights made their rounds across the audience, Lestat could've swore he saw your illuminated face among the crowd, almost losing his rhythm. He chalked it up to the incessant hallucinations he'd been having of you, but you just seemed too real and present to be a figment of his desperate imagination.
You brought some friends with you under the pretense that you were a big fan of the music and really wanted to come, and after thinking about it to yourself, that may have not been completely false. As the final song wrapped up, you grabbed your friends' arms and started heading towards the lobby, after which you weaseled your way out of their hold and left them to continue their post-concert debrief. You started making stealthy yet determined strides towards the dressing room. The security for this place left much to be desired, but you weren't surprised, it felt on-brand for him. After reaching the end of the hallway, you finally reached what you believed was your destination. The old door was slightly cracked open. The dazzling vanity lights, jumbled assortment of fabric on the floor, and hangers further confirmed your assumption. Slowly entering the room, you attentively scanned the area and took it all in. The metallic garments, both light and dark, the velvet capes, and the antique pieces were scattered all over. It was all so very him, that a breathy laugh escaped your lips.
As you continued your exhibition, you heard footsteps grow louder and louder. It was him. You could feel his presence amplifying by the second and you did not know how to feel. Turns out that no amount of mental preparation could prepare you for the challenge of facing an old love. You turned around, bracing yourself to face him when he came in and stood your ground. His heeled boots stopped clacking at the entrance of the creaky door.
"Mon cœur." He started making his way towards you, his eyes were almost wide with emotion and longing, but he played the jaded rockstar a little too well for that to happen. Lestat took his leather gloves off on the vanity, and continued to you. You were both eye to eye now.
"You look good. This whole...rockstar get-up, becomes you." You announced, "but I will say... I do miss the 3-piece suits." He drank up the praise like he always did, raising his chin a little. Both of you shuffled around uncomfortably, and the silence made the air feel viscous. "I keep seeing you." He looked at you, but you feigned confusion by tilting your head even though you had an idea what he was talking about, because you were experiencing the very same thing. Lestat inched closer and closer, almost closing the distance between you both. You faced the ground. "Lestat, I've come about the messages. I can't take it anymore." He hesitantly backed up, and you caught a flash of recognition in his eyes. "I suppose I lost my...mental dexterity over the years." He looked at every object in that room but your eyes. Although it seemed unlikely, you had a feeling this wasn't in his control, and your thoughts were confirmed by his shaky confession.
You felt even more disoriented at that moment. He still had a hold on you, and you were questioning the point in resisting it, your armor crumbling by the minute.
"Is that all you came to say?" He huffed frustratingly, an expectant edge to his voice you failed to pick up on. "I suppose that is all, I'll leave you to your coked-up groupies, Lestat." You bitterly sneered, making your way to the door. He grabbed your arm, halting your endeavor. You were facing him again. "There it is, the spunk I so dearly missed. All these years and you torment me with a few sentences, is that what you wish to do? to torment me?" He got closer and closer, threatening your resolve with every word. You couldn't do it any more, you wanted him and he wanted you, it seemed like simple math at the moment. You planted both your palms on his exposed chest, then pleadingly looked up at him, and that was all he needed.
He firmly cupped your face before hungrily devouring you in an open-mouthed kiss. You were kissing him as hard as you were trying to push him back on the velvet couch. After being successful, you continued kissing him until he held you by the waist and flipped you so he was on top, his pale and sculpted body weighing yours down.
Lestat started crawling backwards and suggestively tugged at your waistband, after which you nodded and he started pulling your pants down. He planted kisses all across your thigh and over every single one of your moles, almost as if he was directed by memory. As he kissed away, his hands roamed all over your body, sharp nails gently grazing your skin. When he got to the last mole before your core, he paused, looked at you and cunningly smiled.
Fucking tease
"Lestat!" You writhed in his hold, an annoyed expression taking over your face.
"Aht, aht. You've always been impatient, mon cœur." The slick bastard was getting such a kick out of torturing you, that you noticed his bulge grow harder through his pants. He then lowered himself back down to tuck his face between your thighs. He gently kissed you, the thin cloth of your underwear forming a barrier between him and your pussy, his tongue suavely teasing the cloth up and down. You held onto the couch's ridges as your eyes rolled back in pleasure and anticipation. He then used his pinky nail to swipe the thin strap of your underwear and slid it down, after which he swirled his tongue around your clit. You were almost suffocating him with the way your thighs wound tight around his neck, but he liked that. You reached your climax and could've sworn you saw stars when you did, the room felt lighter and so did the air.
Lestat got back up and swiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb as you lay like a ragdoll on the couch, overstimulated. Like an artist admiring his finished piece, his eyes glinted at you in esteem and affection. After letting you recover, he climbed back on top of you, and kissed you again, this time grinding his aching crotch against yours. You were both skin-to-skin, tearing each other's clothes off, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, your eyes glossy. While looking you in the eye, he swiftly entered you in a quick thrust, leading you to arch your back and open your mouth in pleasure. He took that as an invitation for another deep, passionate open-mouthed kiss and you gladly obliged.
He held onto the armrest above your head as he thrusted and wrapped his large palm around one of your exposed breasts. He then engulfed it in his mouth, lapping his tongue over your nipple. "How long has it been? since somebody fucked you properly, the way you deserve? probably too long..." He trailed off and tilted his head as he awaited an answer, one you did not give since you were too busy writhing in pleasure under him. He was so cocky, but he could back it up. You were getting closer and closer to your orgasm, not only because of how good he felt inside you, or the satisfying rhythm he moved with, but because of the sensual sounds and moans he let out, you always loved how vocal he was.
"Fuck, mon cœur." His eyes were squinted and face scrunched up, his thrusts, lazy. He was close and so were you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He let out a guttural yet melodious groan, and right after he finally unraveled, so did you. After finishing inside, his body crashed on top and fell next to yours, his chest triumphantly heaving up and down.
You both lay next to each other, processing what had just happened. Lestat switched to his side so that he could face you, a pompous expression on his face, "So much for your rigid resolve..."
"Fuck you, Lestat." you spat, rolling your eyes at him.
Dawn was your name, 'cept it wasn't— but it was to everyone who watched you work the pole. Why? Because maybe one day when the sun shines upon your skin, you'll actually deserve to be called it. For now, having a creature of the night call you by it is enough.
Lestat de Lioncourt x Stripper!Reader | 3k+ | cw: gender neutral!reader, you are called by your stripper name a few times, smoking (DONT SMOKE 🔪), mentions of trauma/abuse (from ex), angst, hurt/comfort, smut (spitting, slight degradation, biting [duh], choking, hair pulling),
A/N: ... im shooq at the fanfic ecosystem is in this fandom. yall dont do x readers here 🥲 damn. Gotta carry as always 🤧😩🤣💔 not proofread. gotta go to work first 😔. | Cross posted on ao3
The room smells like Karlie's perfume, candy-sweet and rich, as it always does. She hates smelling the alcohol or cigarettes from the patrons, and makes sure to pack it on heavily before her set each night. It's crazy how I can smell her like she's right next to me on the pole when 2 other dancers have already worked it.
I sigh as I do a twirl and drop down the spinning bar, the click of my soles snapping me out of my momentary trance. I've done this routine so many times, I'm barely thinking anymore. I look out to the crowd that hollers out: Dawn— I don't bother smiling as I reach out for the bills being thrown and waved at me.
Just as I finish stuffing my tips anywhere they'll stay in my tight, glittery outfit, a pair of slender fingers with a large banknote between them reaches for me.
I momentarily still.
The generous tipper grins, lopsided and hungry. He tilts his head to the side, his blonde hair brushing against the shoulders of his expensive suit.
Normally, my heart would pound at the look of him, but tonight, it was only the loud bass thumping in my ribcage. I take his money, immediately smelling the fresh ink on its sleek surface. I walk to the pole and decide to humor him, as I won't be entertaining him with anything else tonight.
My eyes lock with his soul biting blues as I grip the metal beam in front of me, doing my signature move on it. It's easy, though advanced. I've probably done it a thousand times. Somehow, it feels different, though not because I missed a mark or moved the wrong way, but because I was off— I'd been off the entire day.
The audience doesn't notice, none of the did. They didn't care. Why would they when she could see my ass real good from this angle?
My nostrils flare as I descend to my knees, finally finishing my routine. I immediately pick up the remaining bills on the stage and thank my patrons with a half-hearted smile.
"You look stressed, mon cheri."
I look up through my lashes, finding the same fingers holding another large banknote for me.
"I can fix that," he leans his elbows on the edge of the stage.
I take the bill from him, "I won't be doing a private show tonight."
His brow quirks along with his lips, "oh?"
I stand and look down at him.
Though his expression is subtle, he looks intrigued, challenged. He clearly thought it was pet play like most other nights we've shared. Part of me wants to tell him otherwise, to tell him I meant it, that he should take me seriously, that he ought to LISTEN to me— but I don't... because I know what will happen if I do. The thread sewing my sanity together will snap and I'll be torn from the seams.
I exit the stage and head to the back. The dressing room is filled with chatter and sweaty, half-drunk performers with body shimmer and dollar-bills sticky on their skin. I head for my locker and change without a care for decency. My cool skin is immediately warmed by my worn tracksuit which was once hot pink and now baby pink.
I stuff my performance outfit into my bag and grab a small plastic of kibble, stuffing it into my pocket along with my lighter and cigs. I head to the rear door with a red neon exit sign that emerged to the dingy alleyway that was never not damp or dark.
The flimsy metal roofing of the building beside us warbles and creaks with the strong gust of wind. I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself as I walk towards the flickering bulbs on the side of the strip club the owner constantly promises to fix.
I place the stick between my lips, pull my lighter out, and sigh. My breath condenses slightly. I cup the spark as I try to light a flame. One. Two. Three. "Fuck," I hiss as my hands uncontrollably tremor. It's not because of the cold.
My eyes begin to water as I aimlessly observe my surroundings whilst hopping place in an attempt to psych myself up and expel my extra energy. I pull the cigarette out of my lips and few deep breaths before trying again.
I cup the lighter and flick: one, two—
I start and gasp when I feel something brush against my leg. My cigarette nearly drops from my mouth, but I thankfully catch it.
An orange cat rubs against my calf, looking up at me as she meows. I put the lighter back in my pocket, exchanging it for kibble. I crouch down and pet Mimi. She purrs and leans into my touch. I feed her. She gratefully begins crunching up her brown pellets and I straighten back up, reattempting to light my damned cig.
One. Two. Three. Four.
I gulp and shake my hands before trying again.
Five. Six. Six and a half. Seven. Eight.
I shake my lighter and curse at it.
Nine. Ten. Elev-
One.
I turn to my right, finding an orange flame in front of a white man. His golden lighter slowly inches towards my needing cigarette.
I pinch my stick between my pointer and ring finger. I watch its tip begin to burn. I inhale deeply and throw my head back, sighing out the smoke.
"You left me waiting."
I turn to him, taking a swig before responding with a smoky exhale, "has it been five minutes already?"
"I am not one to be kept waiting."
I watch him bring his hands into his coat pockets. I watch his face harden in that subdued manner that always made goosebumps crawl up my arm. I take another hit before looking away, "I told you I wouldn't come."
"I can see that," he quips.
I sigh, willing my shoulders to relax. They don't seem to want to remain relaxed. I flinch at the particularly loud bang of metal as wind slams the wobbly roofing into its spot. I clutch my chest and catch my breath.
The cat meows. I look down at her. I puff out smoke before tapping my stick. I was about to give her more kibble but the poor cat pulls her head back as ashes fly to her face. She doesn't wait, she runs off. I call out for her, feeling terrible for the unintentional harm I gave.
As she disappears, a tear runs down my face. I sniffle, feeling my throat tighten uncomfortably. This was all I'm good for, aren't I?
I turn, gasping in surprise when I see the same face beside me. The sight of him does nothing for my nerves. I clutch my chest once more and screw my eyes shut.
He watches a tear roll down my cheek.
I shake my head, pulling my cigarette away from my lips, "I'm sorry, I-"
"Thought I would be gone?"
I feel a chill run up my spine as I bring my light back up my lips. My tremors do me a disservice. I miss my mouth, thus knocking my stick out my grip. I skid back, watching it fall, then reach for it like the junkie I am. That is, until a gleaming leather shoe stomps it.
I peer up with a whimper.
"Enough," he says.
"I was still—"
"And now, no more," he decisively quirks a brow.
I shudder and rise to my full height, eyes beady and wronged, jaw hard and clenched. Had he been a lesser man, maybe he'd feel intimidated, maybe perhaps pitiful. Alas, he was not a man.
"You're far too jittery to be-"
"IT WAS HELPING ME!"
He looks at my frantic face. He watches me scramble for another light.
Before I can even get another stick, the pack is no longer in my grip. I hiss and glare, eyes no longer able to hold the mist fogging them. "LESTAT!"
He raises his brows and crosses his arms. For someone who revels in the sound of his name, he does not like the way it is presently called. He resists an eye roll, "Dawn."
"Give it ba-"
"No," he shifts in his spot.
My nostrils flare and I step forward to punch him.
He lets me. He does not recoil at the assault and merely chuckles before gasping, "resorting to violence so quickly? How primitive."
I am allowed but three blows before he grabs my wrists.
"Use your words, pet," he leans towards me, "and I may yet still reward you."
I groan and try to wrangle out of his grip, futile as the attempt may be. My flesh could not be quelled by my reason. I persist anyway.
Lestat feels the feebleness of my form in his grip. He sees the misplaced passion in the frustrated movements. With a huff through the nostrils, he releases his hold and stares idly.
I recoil, exhale sharply, and scratch my eyes, "fucker."
He rumbles, ancient and bone chilling.
My stomach drops as his mere step forward.
"Careful," he mutters, "you've not only cut me off but as well cursed me now."
I gulp and flinch at his definitive warning. I know better than to push his patience any further, and yet the irrational side of me that has currently dismantled my sense of self-preservation urges me to see how badly the penance shall be for my impertinence.
He sees it. The flicker of foolishness behind my eyes. He might have been amused by it, had the defiance been a form of foreplay and not a direct road to a tenser argument.
I shiver, this time because of the breeze that cuts between us. I clutch my arms.
Lestat shifts on one leg and tilts his head, "tell me then what has gotten you so weepy."
I look away, only to have my jaw grabbed and gaze drawn back to him.
"You know I will get my answer one way or otherwise."
I huff and grip his wrist. I squeeze him but make no attempt to pry him off.
He watches my eyes fog with more tears.
"I'm sure you already know," I mumble.
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, "that's not how the game works, cheri."
I feel my shoulders slump as I recall the memory that has made me this way.
He can hear it, but pays it no mind.
"Please. I don't..."
My tear runs down his hand.
"... you'll throw me away."
His brows furrow.
He releases my jaw and takes a step back. The act makes my heart rattle behind my rib cage.
"You take me as one so weak-minded?"
My face twitches almost painfully.
His own does as well. He points a finger to the ground as his teeth clamp tightly into each other, "I will not be further insulted by a wailing babe who clearly does not deserve the comforts I so graciously offer, or would have offered had I been met with the same graciousness."
The cold dismissal is like an iron clamp around the neck. He was ever a stickler for dramatics and had a penchant for peeling the narrative back enough that he remain the subject. I knew deep down that was what was playing out, and yet my mania drives me to grab his suit and ultimately crumble further into myself. I half expect him to push me away, to berate me, or even hurt me, but instead he just stands there. I can feel him staring at me.
"Are you just going use my tie to blow your nose?"
I sniffle and wipe my nose on the sleeve of my tracksuit.
He sighs, placing a hand on my shoulder.
The weight of his hold grounds me.
"Grab your things. We're leaving."
I nod silently and sniffle once more.
My duffel is severely out of place in his home, though you could barely see it in the darkness that shrouded the room. He plies me with drink and watches me wipe my wine stained lips on my sleeve with raised brows.
He mutters something in French as he shifts on the settee beside me.
I stare at the painting before us, its grandness and opulence make me feel small, well, smaller.
He, himself, finishes his own drink, "the night does not grow younger."
I turn to him.
He puts his glass down.
I decide to just say it, to jump the gun and forfeit the sugarcoating, "Guido is dead."
Lestat is unmoved. Physically, he remains the way he was seated, body facing mine, one leg folded in front of him, one arm on the backrest, one finger pressed against his temple. Emotionally, he finds no remorse, not even as more tears wet my face.
My lips and voice wobbles, "I- I should be... I should only be relieved, because he was a- a piece of shit, but I–" I wipe my face and lean my head back. I groan into my palms.
His gaze softens, but make no mistake, not the past lover who he many times thought of delivering to death's door himself. "Dawn."
"— I did love him."
The thought is sickening, no, enraging.
"I loved him once, before he used to hurt me."
Lestat does not respond.
I slowly lower my hands and turn to him. My heart skips at his unnaturally blue gaze that seemed to glow with a fury in the darkness.
He watches me shift uncomfortably until I mirrored his position.
"Lestat."
He takes a moment. He brings his hands to his lap, "Dawn."
"I don't..." I fidget with my fingers, "I don't mean to..."
He waits for me to explain, but I do nothing of the sort. I can't. He watches me pick at my nails before reaching out. His hands are cold but not clammy like mine. "Love is a treacherous thing. It is all neither here or there yet everywhere and nowhere."
He rubs the back of my hand with his knuckles. I gulp, feeling my skin tingle with goosebumps.
"I can make you forget."
I lower my gaze and shake my head, "I-" I shake faster, "I would just find out again. My boss is in the pocket of his mob."
"I could kill your boss."
I look up at him.
His brows raise in question.
"Please don't kill my boss."
He grumbles under his breath.
I lower my gaze again.
This time, he clutches my jaw and leans in, "then shall I make you forget another way?"
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine. I sigh, hands gripping his vest as I feel his cool lips melt against my hot mouth.
He does not wait. His fingers find the zipper of my jacket and slowly he pulls it down.
"Lestat," I moan against his mouth.
He hums, slowly leaning further into me, knees crawling towards my own until he straddles my lap. He breaks the kiss, taking in my form as he pushes my jacket off my shoulders. "Are you going to ask me to stop, pretty thing?"
I whimper and slowly disagree. I gulp when his hands clutch my chest. My breath hitches as thumbs brush over my nipples.
"Good," he purrs, "I would have gotten very cross with mon cher if you did."
His lips find mine again, and soon, my head is spinning. He pulls my jacket off me then breaks the kiss to push me into the cushions. He takes my legs, ridding me of all other articles of clothing, and slowly pushes them into my chest. He slots between my thighs, grunting as he hovers over me. I whimper as he ruts into my crotch.
"Tell me what you want."
I reach for his cheeks and arch my back, "I want you to fuck me."
I yelp at the cold blob that splatters onto my chin. He bares his fangs after spitting on me, "and you mean to kiss me with that filthy mouth of yours?"
I whimper when he forces my legs further into my chest.
"Don't let your misplaced grief make you forget yourself."
I shake my head and find myself trying to lick his spit, "n-no."
"Mmm, must I teach my toy proper manners," he begins to undress himself, "or perhaps I should treat you like the dirty whore you are?"
I feel my pulse in my core as I watch him expose his toned abdomen to me.
He reveals his displeasure in his native tongue before grabbing my cheek, forcing me to look him in the eye, "I believe I asked you a question."
My breath hitches as I nod rapidly, "I- punish me."
Lestat gasps as though he'd been thoroughly scandalized. He even releases one of my legs and hover his fingers over his lips just to break into deep chuckles. He gazes down on me in rich amusement and slowly begins to sink down.
I whimper and lift my head to capture his lips in mine.
He snorts, kissing me back nonetheless, hand coming to my neck, "delicious," he presses down with a bit of force, "it would be my pleasure to punish my shining Dawn until there's nothing left but me."
I keep my head lifted, watching his nails press dimples into the back of my thighs. Soon, I cannot help but throw my head back when he captures my sex into his mouth. My back arches and my fingers tangle into his blonde locks, tugging slightly as he licks me up and slowly begins to slobber.
Lestat's head inflates at the sound of my moans and mewls. He feasts hungrier, until the mix of his spit and my arousal begins to coat my inner thighs.
"Lestat," I whine, legs coiling around his head, heels digging into his back.
He hums, spreading his tongue, tasting me deeper. His one hand finds my hip and pushes me in place; his pointed nails bite into my pliant flesh.
Keep going. His voice is clear and commanding in my mind.
"Lestat, please," I groan, throat constricting at the spreading pleasure, "r'making me feel so good."
He hums, the vibration adding to the sensation of his mouth. I gasp at the slight nip I feel from his teeth. I open my eyes, which I hadn't even realized I closed until he pulled away from me. He gives an open-mouthed sigh, slick and saliva glimmering on his lips and chin. He slowly grins, "can't have you coming so soon," he licks his lips, "this is a punishment after all."
I whine and shift in my spot, immediately regretting my words, "no, wait, please—"
"Shhh," his hand clutches my jaw and neck, "I did not tell you to move, did I?"
The weight he pushes on me makes my stomach flip. My lips wobble, "no, sir."
He grins, nearly all his teeth on display. He chuckles and hums, "I see truly that all you needed was a heavy hand."
I breathe a bit deeper to compensate for the pressure on my neck.
"Well, mon amour," he pushes my knees together with his free hand, "would you like to get on your knees for me?"
"Yes," I answer the instant.
I nearly choke on my breath with how eagerly I twist onto my hands and knees. I gulp and turn to him from over my shoulder, panting as if my movements were far more strenuous than they really were. I mewl when he brings his hands to his belt buckle. I bite my lip and find myself rocking back into him as he pulls his pants down.
"Filthy thing," he coos, freeing his cock from his constraints, "I'd have taken you for an easy little slut had I not known any better."
I hum and chew my lip, "but I am an easy little slut for you."
His expression darkens. He grabs his length.
I hiss and turn to the cushions, gripping it as he smacks my sensitive entrance with his evidently hard cock.
He pushes me down and shoves his groin against mine, pulling a shaky and squeaky groan from my throat.
I hum and heave, "m-mon coeur." My heart.
He hisses, head sinking down to my shoulder to mumble strings of French before he nicks and sinks his fangs into me.
I moan loudly into the cushion, hips grinding back into him as he presses his body into me. His hand finds my sex and lazily strokes it, making my thighs shiver. The pain from my shoulder only intensifies my aching need for him deep in my core.
He gulps, retracting his teeth before licking the puncture he's inflicted. Spit and blood dribble down on my skin as he slowly straightens up. He rubs the curve of my ass, "shall I fuck you now?"
I squeal and nod profusely, "yes, yes! PLEASE!"
Lestat hums and looks down at me. He spits and the glob that hits my mound makes me flinch. He takes two fingers and pumps my entrance a few times, making me moan in anticipation. "Eager for me, yes?"
I whine, "so eager, so eager, so eager, so—" my babble is cut off by the feel of his cock invading my insides. I groan and arch my back, feeling winded and full of him.
He snorts and slowly begins to thrust, "so tight and warm for me."
I turn my head but helplessly rest on my cheek when he pushes me down by my shoulder blades.
Soon, my whining is overshadowed by the sound of slapping skin. Soon, the sound of slapping skin is overshadowed by my lewd cries. Soon, Lestat shifts and pushes my legs further apart with his, gripping my thigh tighter and lifting it slightly to fuck me deeper. My body is a sweating, throbbing symphonic of pleasure at how he takes me from behind, his balls slapping deliciously into me with every thrust.
I feel my eyes water, "mmm, Les— I'm close."
He huffs, kneading the flesh on my hips, "come for me. Squeeze my cock and milk me dry."
I focus on the feel of him and gradually rock my body in tandem with his thrusts.
Lestat reaches for my hair and pulls tightly, making me suck a sharp breath as he slaps my ass, "I told you to do something, mon cher."
I whine and nod, mumbling dumbly over and over, "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming." And then I come, feeling my body clench him tighter as an intense wave of pleasure crashes down on me.
Lestat rides out my pleasure as he chases his own, and soon I feel him throbbing as he spills into me.
Once we were both sated and panting, he sluggishly pulls out and licks his lips. I whine as I turn to face him, feeling my core throb at the sight of his glistening cock. He sighs as he leans down and kisses my lips.
Question about Lestat fics, decided to crowdsource the answer since the search is unfruitful on tumblr:
Lestat x gn!reader fics?
I can't find a single one. I'm planning on writing one and was going to do research. Please reblog, comment, whatever if you know of any. 💕 Thanks in advance.
amc lestat x masc reader nsfw tw ; biting, blood, mild gore, smut, overstimulation, french people /j
author's note : BITES DURING SEX !?!?!?!? MORE FRENCH !?!?!? you have become my favourite. vos désirs sont des ordres
It had been weeks since you found yourself entangled in the limbs of Lestat. The moment was something you couldn’t quite remember, it felt like a fever dream of renaissance art and sweet wine. Just to try to remember it was to feel like a lavish godlike being, laying in the soft summer night rain, eating honey and being tended to by hundreds of loyal worshippers. The memory alone was beyond orgasmic. And now you found yourself bewitched by memory’s tight grasp, you relived each second whenever you closed your eyes. The mystery of the man, the suddenness that began and ended the situation, the sound of his hazy voice sputtering out french praise. It wouldn’t leave you. Not until you found him again.
The wind echoed his words, the lamplight flickered with the same spark that was in his eye, the night’s embrace felt like it was pulling you towards him. You found yourself now, wandering the dark streets of New Orleans.. Past the club in which you had met, down the street his car was parked, and going farther throughout the lanes of the district. Each step had its own mind, you felt like you were almost sleep walking. Barely conscious mind, hypnotised by each thought of Lestat, wandering legs that controlled themselves. You didn’t know where your feet were taking you, but with each inch closer you felt his call grow louder. Louder. And louder still. Step by step you felt how he called for you, how he thought of you, how he needed you.
A pretty, expensive appearing townhouse was where your legs stopped, leaving you stood by the door filled with apprehension. You looked around, barely conscious mind now trying to recognise what was around. Houses, old streets and.. The car. That same car, there was no way it was anything else. Had you really found your way back to Lestat? After one meeting, with no mention of where to find him, with no expectation to ever see him again. What was this? The confusion, slight fear and disbelief just melted into that needy curiosity that your brain was full of, no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t shake that feeling. That he was calling for you, that he needed you. Or was it that you needed him?
You cautiously knocked on the door and to your dismay it slowly creaked open almost seconds after the first loud knock. There he stood in all his ethereal beauty. Not a blemish, not a spot, it was if he was made to be perfect. His eyes shone like halos, his smirk so devilish yet charming, his hair like something from an old painting, each inch of his being looked so thought out yet effortlessly breathtaking.
“Can I help you?”
He looked you up and down as he spoke, leaning against the door with a hand cupping a crystal wine glass with a deep red liquid. The cocky tone, relaxed stance, it told you that he was expecting you. He was putting on this act to punish you, to make you squirm and stumble for words, to enjoy your flustered stuttering. But it made you think, what would he say? How did you know where he was, why did you go, what were you doing on the doorstep of a previous one night stand in the middle of the night with eyes full of desperation? There was no explanation, but somehow he looked as if he already knew each answer that you didn't.
“Well come in, I was just enjoying a nice drink.”
It seemed he grew impatient with your lack of words, now moving to let you in and outstretching his arm to show you inside. You rushed to step inside, still silent within your own confusion and bewildered thoughts. Another outstretched hand to signal towards a deep velvet couch within the next room, he wanted you to go sit and you followed that request instantly. As you sat he slowly moved to a drinks cabinet filled with all sorts of exotic looking bottles, fixing you a drink much like his own.
“La vie est trop courte pour boire du mauvais vin,”
He chuckled as he now stepped towards you and passed the glass.
“Life is too short to drink bad wine. I think that is a truthful saying, no? It can be applied to every aspect in life. I find once I have found a good wine I tend to only go for that one, I know the quality so why risk a bad flavour in something unknown?”
Was he talking about you? He found someone good and now he somehow conjured you up? The man always spoke in riddles, synonyms, poetry, never giving you just a straight piece of mind. Each sentence was yours to make the meaning of. He could never say anything wrong because it was you who interpreted it badly.
“I guess that’s why I’m here then..”
A sheepish and forced giggle slipped out with that awkward remark. Your attempt at even trying to explain what brought you here. You quickly sipped the wine, hoping maybe he didn’t hear properly and you could just play it off as some weird drinking noise or unimportant comment. His confidence and gracious ways just made you feel even more tense, filled to the brim with awkward flustered butterflies. The way Lestat looked at you with those curious eyes, half smirk, he knew what he was doing to you. And he loved absolutely every second of it. The sight of you all shy and pathetically gasping for words, your brain filled with nothing but arousal and thoughts of him, it was exactly what he wanted. But just knowing you were giving him what he wanted pushed you deeper into this feeling. Completely powerless with barely even a few words from him.
“Oh? Are you implying that I am good wine? Well why don’t you have a taste.”
The male graciously sat beside you, eyes still intently locked onto you. It wasn't an uncomfortable stare, it came from calm and almost lust filled eyes, intimidating only from your own embarrassment. Bedroom eyes. His voice rang with a familiar devious chuckle, you didn’t dare return the stare coming from his all too confident being. There was nothing inherently threatening being done by Lestat, infact he was being very kind to you, but you couldn’t help but shake slightly with anticipation like prey in the night.
“Oh non, you are shaking,”
As he spoke he slipped his large, soft hand under your chin to gently turn your face to look up to him. Your eyes locked onto his as he tucked your hair behind your ear, his gaze now softened to show an inch of compassion. They were truly beautiful eyes, like planets in the night sky, like a windswept beach, like aphrodite herself had blessed them.
“Don’t be afraid.”
You felt his spare hand slip onto your thigh as he inched closer, slowly and as elegant as ever. Placing soft kisses on your jaw at first, then gently dragging them down your neck until he reached just above your collarbone. Each kiss melted relaxation into your skin, you leant back on the velvet couch and placed the glass of wine on the mahogany side table by you.
He ran his finger along the rim of your collar, tugging at it slightly to pull it down, kisses getting rougher by the second. Rougher, longer, sharper until you felt the sensation of two sharp teeth rubbing against your sensitive skin. The feeling made your face flush with warmth, it was unusually sensual. A feeling that should strike fear but instead struck arousal.
It was gentle at first, not even piercing the skin. But it quickly became a sharp, throbbing pain making you gasp out with all sorts of breathy curses. It felt.. Good? Blood flowing, pain shocking adrenaline into your system, you slipped your hand into Lestat’s hair and held his head there to deepen the bite.
His hand which had been stroking your thigh during this now glided over to your crotch, making your face flush as he felt the hardened pressure. A small chuckle came from his lips as he felt this, leaving you to whimper partly out of shame and partly out of the feeling of his teeth retracting.
Lestat eyes met yours as he lifted his head, those stormy eyes captivating you so deeply. Words refused to come out of your mouth and suddenly you found yourself pressing against his lips, roughly and sloppily. Desperately trying to unbuckle his belt to show his manhood.
"Uh uh, rein ne sert de courir il faut partir à point. Patience my little lark."
He spoke inbetween kisses, lips brushing against yours with hot breath and passion. It didn't take him long to unbutton your shirt and throw it to the ground, he then continued placing kisses followed by small bites on your shoulders. Each bite was not as deep as the first, but they still made your hips buck and your breath hitch.
You noticed his hands fumble to his belt, taking it off during his little bites, sliding his trousers down until he was left only in pants. This was your sign for you to do the same, only you took it all off. Laying underneath Lestat, small streams of blood trickling from the bite marks, panting lust filled breaths, precum spilling from your throbbing cock. Your eyes looked up at him with sheer desperation, this just caused him to sink your teeth in deeper.
A loud choked out moan escaped your lips as you felt his length slip into you without warning, he bottomed out almost immediately.
"Ngh-Wh- What is?- You-"
You couldn't even form a sentence, your mind was too swarmed with the pleasure of all of him inside you and the burning pain of the bites. There wasn't enough blood to cause any damage, if anything this was just to appease Lestat.
"No don't try to talk, I want to hear your pretty little voice make other sounds. Don't waste it on words. Tu es si adorable quand tu cries et mauds mon nom~"
He began to thrust quickly into you, your arms now wrapping around his shoulders and scratching his back to try to grip on. Bite after bite, thrust after thrust. Your shaking legs and teary eyes just aroused him more, all you were able to say between moans and whimpers was his name.
A wave of release washed upon you, white spilling out of your twitching red cock, your body went limp. Lestat held you tight, teeth sinking deep into your neck for a final time, this time the deepest and sloppiest he had done. His pace quickened to a desperate aggression, pumping out his own warm load before slowing down too.
"Tu as un goût si doux"
The male whispered before placing a few more kisses on your neck, over the countless bites and hickeys that now littered your chest, shoulders, back and neck. He softly kissed your lips, the metallic flavour of your own blood dripping onto your tongue as he slowly slipped out of your hole. Lestat then crashed down onto the couch beside you, looking at you with a proud smirk like an artist looking at their masterpiece.
