Dusk & Dawn
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.
"A drink before we continue, ma belle?"
