cw : MDNI - , sub Lestat, top male reader, dom male reader, sub Louis, slight service bot Louis, nsfw, birthday sex, mentions of blood, soft dom male reader, marking, heavy biting, fang play, poly, slight brat taming, slight internalized homophobia, awakening, threesome, iwtv movie, Louis is a brooding baby, as always, brat Lestat, Brad Pitt Louis, Tom Cruise Lestat, not proof read, anon request, wc: 4.8k.
Thinking of how the two vampires who've adored you for over a year are now ready to claim you as theirs only. How they can't stand the idea of being away from you any longer.
How they'd get on a bended knee for you, that behind closed doors the power switch was immense. How someone as cocky as a peacock suddenly becomes as domesticated as a house pet.
But you didn't just serve them. They served you. They loved you, and they wanted to grant you more of that obsessive love on your special day.
__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
After cleaning the main lounge, you found yourself ready to retire to your quarters for the night. It was odd at the start, to now serve two men who’d claimed to be new owners of the estate and to finally be working inside the home instead of outside of it. You were just a simple gardener who tended to the Lord's yard whenever he asked. You were paid less than most of the staff — no matter the color of your skin or where you originated from — but it was the only task anyone would grant you, even though you were more than capable of doing more.
Much more.
The last thing you'd expected was to suddenly find yourself ambushed by a well dressed blonde nobleman one night. He had a certain charm that swooned you immediately, though he was just as surprised when you retaliated — amusing him so.
But you were unaware that you were nothing but prey in the eyes of the nightly hunter.
He was more intrigued by your presence than most he'd encountered during his nightly prowls. He captured your attention for most of the night before disappearing with a promise of meeting you again, and the next day, the original Lord and Lady of the house seemed to disappear without much of a trace.
It was only the next night that Lestat informed all servants and workers that the Lord of the house handed it to him while the two went away for a while, not to return for a season or two. In some ways, you were not as alarmed as others were from the sudden news.
It was only then that you'd been visited nightly by the new Lord, Lestat de Lioncourt. Even though you found it odd how he only visited you in the gardens during the nighttime, it was comforting to have someone spend time with you, shamelessly at that. For another man to spend time with one another in such a way — in that day and age — you'd be ridiculed or worse. Far worse.
It was only later that you’d found yourself introduced to the second new lord of the house, Louis de Pointe du Lac. He was rather standoffish around Lestat, as if he was simply tolerating to be around his blonde companion rather than enjoying his company. Everytime you happened to see him during the night, the brunette was brooding somewhere in the garden or isolating himself within the house. As if he couldn't stand to be around people.
Slowly but surely, you surprised the brunette — just as much as he was surprised Lestat kept you around. Every night you'd find yourself trying to get in good graces with Louis, from bouquets of flowers to small notes you'd write on parchment.
Unfortunately, he wasn't as willing to spend time with you as Lestat was. His companion simply stated the man was too busy mourning a previous life, had been for quite a while.
What he didn't explain was that the previous life in question was Louis’ own.
Lestat de Lioncourt — the man who could talk his way in and out of both heaven and hell if he wanted to. The man who had you wound tightly around his finger. You'd long since waved away the thought of never seeing the two men in the daylight hours, just as no other servant had, deterring them. But what seemed to confuse you most was why blonde individual seemed so intrigued with you alone.
Some nights he'd be away with Louis, sometimes leaving out without him — either way — he'd always make time for you. Whether that was to dine in the house, dance with you out in the yard, or even playing you a musical tenure he stated he learned some years ago, he was almost attached to the him with you.
It wasn't until he'd lead you inside and to his own private quarters that it was revealed to you what he truly was. A man who's only seen at night, whose words are like sultry whispers that wrap around your mind, who sleeps in a coffin of all places.
A vampire.
The night you'd indulged in the sinful desire, laying with Lestat as you were seduced into bed with him, you were both left in a daze of emotions. A buzzing high you'd never experienced lingered within you as you took the vampire that night, and in return it made him desire your presence even more.
Your blood was indescribable, but at the same time, the most alluring he'd had come across in some time, even within the bliss of the night. It was almost too much to resist the first time he'd fed from you.
Now Louis, Louis was a much harder catch. Of course Lestat flaunted how great you were, how much of a flame you were to him compared to the harlots he'd normally pick up — though in no way was he calling you that or lowering you to those standards. Even teased the thought of having you as an additional companion.
That scared Louis to wits end. He didn't want anyone else to have to suffer a fate similar to his own.
Though when you stopped leaving him flowers, notes, letters, he seemed to almost yearn for that attention back. Lestat and himself didn't exactly click, only in certain moments, but otherwise they were as different as black and white. He'd take quiet strolls in the garden some nights when Lestat was gone, leaving Louis to feed on whatever doves or rats he wanted to feast on. But instead, he watched you from afar, admiring you in the darkness.
He was one to leer and loom around, watching as you delicately handled all the flowers that bloomed, shaping and trimming the hedges, and by God he adored hearing you sing to yourself. Sometimes it was a hum of a tune he didn't recognize, sometimes it was simply a melody you'd made up yourself.
He was completely entranced with you. But he wasn't as sneaky as he thought to be, which is why you left little clues. Single roses in the gazebo that sat in the yard, folded sheets of loving words hidden in the bushes — you knew he appreciated them. The smile on his face said it all, even it was the smallest of gestures.
And you had to admit, Louis looked much better with a something other than the depressing look he carried around. At one point or another, you assumed they may have gotten tired of you and were simply going to make you disappear like the other servants of the house did. Just as the previous Lord and lady of the house did.
Yet here you are, a year later, still taking care of the garden as well as the house, all while maintaining a relationship with the two vampires. You were being paid handsomely — even though you were one of the few servants still left — ate at the table, and even had your own sleeping quarters inside the house rather than in the slums of the city.
You couldn't ask for a more perfect life especially with the attention you'd gained from the two men.
But what you least expected was a sudden barrage of gifts at your bedroom door.
You blinked a few times to make sure that you weren't just seeing things, but there were in fact gifts, from a beautiful bouquet of roses, to divine chocolates that you'd only be able to get overseas. The gesture was sweet and all, but you couldn't understand why it was at your door this time of night. Wouldn't it have made sense for whoever to have given them to you by hand?
“Odd…” Bundling the gifts into your arms, your was then hand fixated itself on the door handle before twisting and pushing it open. It was only then that you were even more confused with the assortment or rose petals leading up to your bed. There were candles decorated throughout the room, settled on the dressers and seals within the room. You barely caught that your sheets and covers were replaced with what looked like silk instead of your normal cotton sheets.
“Bonsoir ma chéri!” You felt someone drape onto your body, purring against your neck by the time you had two feet in the door. The accented voice was a dead giveaway to who'd invaded your quarters, though you were still befuddled.
You'd done nothing in recent times that would cause this sort of extension of affection — other than perhaps granting Lestat the pleasure of taking him while in his coffin.
“Monsieur Lestat?” You turned your head towards him in order to question what the meaning of the gifts were, but your voice was silenced by the feeling of his lips against yours. His fangs gently poked against your bottom lip, and tilting your head, you'd done due diligence to deepen the kiss. Your tongue played to gain access to the other's mouth before the vampire suddenly pulled away.
“Ah, you know how I feel about that toi ma douce. We're rather far from formalities, oui?” Lestat seemed to tilt your chin to his own height as he spoke, all before closing the door and sauntering his way into the room and effortlessly sitting on the edge of the bed. By the time you'd made your way into the rest of your room, settling the gifts on a vacant space, you turned and noticed Louis.
He was draped against the loveseat that sat some distance away from your own bed. His piercing, alluring eyes peered at you from afar before they shifted to the glass of red that was held between his hands, babying it as Lestat continued to speak to you.
“Do you like it mon cher? It was all planned for you! I know you barely come up to your room after you've gotten ready for the day, tu es un homme si travailleur, but it was the perfect time to assess your room before you come back. It didn’t take much to get inside without peeping eyes.” Lestat was right when it came to your schedule, working till late to make sure the house was in the best shape, all before coming to your room to rest or letting Lestat drink from you when he wasn't in the best of moods.
“I appreciate the gesture, but…I don't quite understand — why? I-I haven't done anything out of the ordinary lately, nothin’ that ain't what I normally do.” You watched as Lestats' brows furrowed and he looked over at Louis, the other looking right back as if he was a lost puppy.
The blonde gestured towards yourself as he spoke to his companion that laid across the room. “Louis, you said that it was today, did you not?”
“It is today, I made sure of it Lestat,” he replied reassuringly, only for the two to glance over towards your form, watching the clueless expression on your face.
“What…exactly is today?”
Standing to his feet almost immediately, Lestat grinned and strutted over till he was pressed against your body, holding your face with a fanged grin on his lips. “My hardworking charmeur, it is the day of your birth! If I remember correctly, you spoke of it being around this time of the year…unless you misspoke.”
It was only then that the dots connected all at once. You hadn't truly celebrated your birthday in years, not like much of the staff did unless they had families to go to and days off. Unfortunately for yourself, you had no family left to celebrate the day you were brought into the world.
“No, no — you’re correct! I just…I ain't ever see no reason to celebrate it. Haven't thought about it since I was younger…” Your eyes drifted over to Louis to see if he had any input, but he seemed as quiet as ever. At least he wasn’t acting like a brooding mess like normal. “Though I appreciate the gesture, of course.”
“Oh, it was just as much of Louis' ideas as it was mine! He practically begged for everything to be perfect for you mon cher, isn't that right Louis!” Lestat teased and called out the man from across the room before turning his attention back to you. “Of course I contributed to such efforts to make this night one that you would remember, pour toujours!” Guiding you towards the bed, he watched as you'd sat against the edge and looked rather unsure of yourself.
“Mons—er...Lestat, I haven't even gotten out of my work uniform. I didn't expect such a gesture today, not at all, but I do appreciate it.” Just as you began to unbutton the black vest over your dress shirt, Lestat crawled into your lap, straddling you and removing your hands before ripping your vest open, popping a few buttons off completely.
“Well, you can show your appreciation towards us tonight. As always, you never disappoint, not as far as I know.” Lestats' last words were drawn out as he dragged his hand down your stomach and down to the crotch of your pants, feeling the half chubbed appendage that appeared due to his sudden spur of boldness.
It was only then that you looked over to see Louis almost clenching his jaw while watching on, privy to the fact that Lestat would be laying with you again. Unfortunately, you were not the only one to notice Louis' sudden expression.
With a sharp grin, Lestat then slowly ripped your white dress shirt before looking towards his companion. “Isn't this what you were hoping for Louis? To surprise our darling on his special day? Oh — oh,” he gasped in feign surprise. “Don't tell me you've gotten shy all of a sudden, that doesn't much seem like your style, wouldn't you agree?”
Seeing as Lestat always liked to pick a fight with Louis, you took matters into your own hands. With your hands gripped around his waist, you practically rolled to pin Lestat down to the bed, silencing him with your own mouth on his. “If this is my birthday present, I'd rather you use that mouth for the better…’oui’?” You quoted, muttering such words with the little space he granted you before crashing his lips into yours again.
And just like that, you were straddling over Lestats' body and now attacking his throat. His eyes rolled back with each harsh bite and nip you placed up on his skin. The blonde fumbled to practically tear off the rest of your dress shirt from your arms before throwing it in the corner of the room and leaving you bare chested.
Even as you were mentally drawing out that you were exhausted after working all day, you could never resist Lestat. He was like a drug you couldn't get away from.
The vampire rolled his hips out to your with a half baked whine as he grew somewhat impatient with the fact that you had foreplay in mind. He understood why you were so gentle with him, but even as a vampire he'd informed you that he could take much more than normal.
“Louis, are you going to just sit there all night? Like a dormant animal and continue to stare?” Lestat was definitely looking at Louis out of spite, seeing as the man refused to move from the loveseat since the two of you started. “Ah, à moins que je me trompe, is this what gets you going,” he asked, letting out labored breaths as you assaulted his neck. “Watching? Mmmh…waiting in the winds and wishing you were in my place while you sit idly by?”
It was only then that Lestat cried out, feeling your teeth bite down against the flesh between the crook of his neck, much harsher than you'd normally be. “Stop be’n so rude Les…if he don't wanna join, you ain't gotta mess with him,” you muttered out, grabbing his jaw to gain some sort of control.
And Lord did he love when you got this way.
Before he could let out another snarky remark, you locked his lips in a heated, hungry kills, as if you'd been craving him all week. Lestat found one hand against the back of your head and the other trying to find its way into your pants.
Louis on the other hand seemed surprised to hear you put the blonde in his place so quickly. Not only that, but you weren't forcing him to join in the activity, even though there was a wave of arousal that overwhelmed him the moment you looked back at him with such lust in your eyes. So strong he could practically feel it radiating off your skin.
Slowly but surely, he'd made his way off the couch and crept over towards the bed, his eyes staring at the claw marks that adorned your back, most healed from various times, some as fresh as a day ago. He couldn't help himself from reaching out, gently brushing his finger tips against your warm skin, watching in awe as your back flexed into his touch while keeping your lips locked with Lestats'.
It was only after you pulled away that your eyes locked on his curious gaze. It was almost as if he was shy in some way, or maybe he just didn't like the idea of Lestat seeing him in such a state. Reaching your hand out, you touched against the top of Louis’ before looking up to him. “You don't have to be a part of this if you don't want to. It ain't right to make you do something you don't wanna be a part of. After all, you ain't make me do anything that I wasn't comfortable wi—”
Your rambling was cut short as Louis pressed his own lips tenderly against yours, his nose nudging against the side of your own as he kissed the side of your lips. He peppered small kisses in which you retaliated and gave him just as many before you two were locked in a more needy kiss.
By the time he'd pulled away, it was slow, just as his kisses were tender. His eyes scanned your face for some type of rejection, just as yours searched his for any sort of stress indicator. “I want this,” Louis started, that low solemn tone of his occupying the now quiet room. “I just didn't know how to express it to you.”
Grinning, you'd brought his hand up to your lips before kissing against his knuckles. “We can take our time, Les won't mind.”
“C'est si audacieux de votre part de prétendre, you do know that I am right here.” Lestat wasn't the least bit impressed, but his back arched the moment you used your other unoccupied hand to grip against his blonde wavy locks before yanking them back.
“I know you're here Lestat, I didn't go blind. But I know how you are.” You fisted into his blonde hair even more before biting near his Adam's apple, drawing out a guttural moan that shocked even Louis.
The brunette would admit it, but the way you went from your normal ‘happy to serve” attitude to this more dominant persona, putting Lestat in his place as well? He could practically feel himself pitching a tent at the sudden change of time you took between the two vampires.
It was even more shocking that Lestat was allowing someone like yourself — someone who was simply a human compared to the monstrous beings the two were — to work him up as so. Not that Louis was complaining, he quite enjoyed it.
“This is for me, correct? A birthday surprise? I assume you'd let me enjoy myself Les,” you purred against his marked up throat. In the next few moments, there was a flurry of clothes thrown onto the floor before both Lestat and yourself were completely nude. Your own erection practically overwhelming the vampires — though his own was just a bit above average and aching to be handled.
Louis had unbuttoned his blouse and stripped it off his own shoulders, but he seemed almost out of place. There was only so much he'd been experienced with, especially with women. After all, he had a child and a wife at one point in time, but this was different. Yes, there was a point in time were Louis fell victim to Lestats' alluring words of nightly pleasures, seeing as being his immortal companion had it perks.
But the clash between his humanity and Lestats' lack of it made the two repel each other.
You however, might just be the key to keeping their bond.
Hearing your name get called, your head lifted from assaulting the vampires neck again, looking over at Louis for him to continue. His quite demeanor was normal for you, but to see this sudden shy side seemed to make you want him just as badly. “Are you sure this is…what you want? The both of us?”
“Of course? You two have treated me so kindly for so long. Who would have imagined I'd have such feelings like this. I'll admit, I didn't expect for you to jump me like that, but it was a pleasant surprise!” It wasn't everyday you had two vampires at your disposal, though you wished it was everyday.
“But…since I know Lestat can wait his turn, how about you let me take care of you Louis?”
Thus leading you here, to a fucked out Lestat and an even more disoriented Louis in your lap.
You could feel yourself slowly tiring between treating the two vampiric beings who had enough energy to extend throughout the night. It was starting to seem like this was more of a gift to the both of them rather than yourself.
Your hips were starting to bruise but it didn't matter at that moment, not while Louis was practically drooling over you as his hips rolled against yours, feeling your bulbous tip grind against his prostate perfectly, back and forth. He moaned out your name like a montra, his own leaking tip ready to spill after his nth load.
“I..I know you two haven't went out tonight,” you stuttered out, trying to guide Louis to a slower speed, but it didn't seem as if he wanted to go any slower than the pace he set himself. “If you don't mind, you can take from me.” You knew that the two avoided your neck the entire time, and getting fed from one vampire was already a hard task.
But two?
“I..I won't—I can't,” Louis tried to argue, his mind as blank as parchment as he fucked himself onto your cock, dragging against his walls and nailing his prostate perfectly, causing him to crying out as he was steadily making his way towards another orgasms.
Lestats was laid out beside you, having had his fun and rather enjoying seeing Louis in such a distraught state. His ass was just as tainted red as the others, his body still buzzing from the aftermath and his cock standing as firm as it was before.
“Louis, it is his request! After all, we are to celebrate him! And don't forget our last surprise for them as well!” The blonde reached up to run his fingers up the nap of the other neck, threading them through Louis' hair before forcing them to face him. “I'm not asking for this Louis, nor am I demanding it. Our corbeau here has given us the pleasure. I imagine it is better than the rats…”
Louis whined out, trying his best to shake his head as he let out a garbled cry. “I..I don't wanna hurt him Lestat!”
Rolling your hips in sync with Louis’, you could feel his walls tightening up yet again, as if he was trying to milk you for all its worth. “Louis, I know you,” you cooed, hand now cupping part of his ass while the other grabbed the side of his thigh. “You wouldn't hurt me. I believe you have more control than that. Are you…going to deny me this-this one wish?”
Lestat released his grip on Louis before nuzzling his face into one side of your neck. He could tell Louis was fighting to succumb, but he also knew you were the only one out of the two of them that could persuade the “vegetarian”, to switch for one night. Before Lestat could get anything out, he felt your hand grab against his shaft, slick with his previous load.
Lestat groaned out as your hand enveloped his own cock, thumb rubbing across his leaking slit and slowly pumping him in a teasing fashion. It made his walls clench around nothing and his face hiding against the crook of your neck.
Louis found himself creeping towards the edge of his awaiting orgasm as he continued to ride you, hips stuttering at a hiccupping pace. “Gonna—gon’na cum, please, please—” He muttered your name like a prayer, feeling your hand guide his head down to your neck.
“Go ahead, I promise…I'll hold strong.” Having been fed on by Lestat before, it was easy to say that if too much was taken, you'd easily black out or die. But you weren't worried such a thing would happen, not with how good they'd been treating you. You could feel their labored breath against your throat, one contemplating to bite, the other ready to dine within seconds.
“Louis…” Lestat urged, feeling close to his own orgasm as well, your hand squeezing against his base which in turn made his hips thrust upwards.
The brunette whimpered a small apology to you as much as himself before he felt the familiar ache in his fangs. Both vampires could feel your heart racing as well as well as hear the flow of blood within your veins.
Your mouth opened to a short groan as you felt two sets of fangs pierce into your flesh almost simultaneously. It wasn't painful, in fact it nearly made your eyes roll back. Your hips thrusted harshly into Louis, feeling his let out a wet moan and spill over himself again, some landing on your own chest. Only then did you release inside of him, rutting into his ass with rapid wet ‘slaps’ behind them.
Lestat moaned against your throat as well, having to pull away the moment your blood landed on his tongue and slipped down his throat. He'd came just as hard into your hand, coating it in his release as you continued to pump him without stopping. A wave of ecstasy seemed to engulf all of you at once.
You could feel their lips against your throat and hearing them both drink from you was a new experience. As intimate as it was, to be cooing them both, you could feel yourself start to grow light headed. Your movement slowed and your words slurred as you called out, “Lo..Louis…Lestat…I…” As your eyes fluttered — struggling to stay open — the edges of your vision started to dot with darkness.
The thrumming of your heart seemed to slow tremendously, having raced from the adrenaline of sex and now slowing as it struggled to pump more blood throughout your system.
The world blurred, your lips parting to speak but the world around you seemed to go quiet. There was muffled arguing as you felt the warmth start to leave your body entirely. What sounded like Lestat scolding Louis and Louis yelling back made you huff out. As much as you wanted to stop them, you felt completely sapped of all your strength.
Suddenly, you felt a wetness against your lips, dripping down into your mouth as you were forced to swallow. Flesh was now pressed against your lips, a metallic taste flooding your taste buds, though the more you drank, the stronger you suddenly felt. It was to the point where you couldn't get enough, gripping into whoever's arm and holding it down against your mouth as you groaned towards the addicting taste.
The arm was then snatched away from you, now finding yourself laid back, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling. Your skin buzzed and your heart throbbed as an unknown feeling came over you. It was as if you'd been underwater your entire life and suddenly you'd surfaced, and taken a breath of fresh air.
You felt anew.
Out of breath and exhausted, Lestat grinned before croaking out, “Happy Birthday, ma chéri.”
you walk to the kitchen bench after putting blood pouches in the fridge, seeing him eye the striped bag, cushioned with tissue paper on the inside. you meet his eyes, walking over to take out the contents.
"yes, so i found some comfy pieces that are stretchy, kind of", you explain, unwrapping the items to show him. "and they had a nice lace pattern on them..."
however as soon as the undergarments are revealed, lestat is quite focused on them. underwear and bralet, black, a modest design, but the lace is a romantic touch. he picks them up to feel them. good quality, no scratchiness, which can be hard to find these days.
"très bien", he agrees, putting it down, eyeing an identical panty, but in white. "that one was discounted, i'm pretty sure it's the same material?"
he nods, licking his lips. "i never doubted your eye for beauty", he suppresses a smile as he neatly folds the lingerie.
"mmm, well, that's how i found you", you quip, eyes locking on him. ah, he mouths, turning to face you, hair flicking behind him, his arms deciding to rest on your shoulders. "oh i love it when you flatter me like that", lestat hums; already a needy hum fights its way up his throat at the feeling of your hand clasping his waist.
"i know", you match his tone, arm snaking around, one hand brushing through his hair and watching his eyes close briefly. "glad you like the underwear though", you continue, voice lower. softer.
"i was reminded of you when i saw the white panties".
you watch his pupils dilate slightly. "oh, were you?", which you responds with a "yeah i was" as you both inch closer to each other until a kiss is shared. lips plush and soft as always, a tilt of your head allows you two to slot together. one of lestat's hands cradle the back of your head, sighing into your mouth. you lick your tongue past his lips, but pull away after a nibble on his lower lip. you part from him gently.
"i think we should save some of that for the bedroom, yeah?", you tease, picking up the lace garments and passing him the white underwear. "maybe the both of us should try 'em on", you suggest, seeing him tilt his head playfully.
"a quality check, non?" he chuckles, contagious to you, as you nod and slink in the direction of your bedroom. "quality check, exaaaactly", you laugh back. he follows you, hips swaying, almost a performance, like a snake being charmed. always charmed by you, at least.
You don’t get far.
The soft thud of the door echoes—final, deliberate—and by the time you’ve bent to tug at your shoes, he’s already there. Close. Too close.
You straighten, breath catching—not from surprise, never that, not with him—but from the way he occupies space. Like it belongs to him.
“Lestat—”
Your voice doesn’t quite finish.
Because his hand is already slinking at the door beside your head, the other finding your waist, pressing—firm, insistent—until your back meets the wood.
“Bedroom, hm?” he murmurs, voice velvet and smoke, lips ghosting yours but not quite touching. “You are cruel to suggest patience now.”
You smile, breath mingling. “Thought you liked anticipation.”
A giggle spills from him—warm, dangerous. “I like you far more.”
His mouth claims yours in a rush of heat—teeth grazing, lips parting, breath stolen and given back unevenly. Your hands find him just as quickly, fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to pull a sound from him—soft at first, then deeper.
“Ah—” he exhales against you, the sound catching, breaking. “Mon dieu…”
You answer by tilting your head, deepening the kiss, slower now—but no less consuming. The world narrows to sensation: the press of him, the rhythm of breath, the way he responds to every small shift like you’re conducting him.
“You do enjoy this game,” he mutters, lips dragging along your jaw, voice threaded with something almost like disbelief. “Tease… retreat… and then—”
Your fingers tighten in his hair again, cutting him off.
“And then?” you whisper.
He inhales sharply.
Your laugh is quiet, but it lingers between you—until your mouth is locked onto his neck. sweet, suckling bruisings that you leave; a mark, a signal, i sign you were there. especially with the graze of your fangs.
he gasps a little at first, but melting into it. his hands are splayed on your back, one higher at the nape of your neck. he hums, you can hear that he's biting on his own lip.
you pull away faster than he wanted you to, but you disconnect and grab the pieces of fabric off of the floor. you hold out the lacy white one and hand it to him, lestat welcoming in raw nature.
"okay, turn around", you point at him to face the door. "Must we, cherie? the last time i looked away was at 15—"
“Turn around.”
He exhales—long, exaggerated—eyes flicking upward in theatrical resistance, but there’s a smile tugging at his mouth already.
“Bossy,” he mutters, though he turns anyway. Slow. Intentional. Always performing, even in obedience.
You don’t give him the satisfaction of watching.
You turn too—quicker, efficient hands making light work of fabric, the familiar rhythm of undressing undone by the subtle tremor in your fingers. Not nerves. Not quite.
Anticipation, maybe.
Behind you, there’s the whisper of movement. Cloth. Skin. A pause that feels louder than anything else.
You finish first.
For a second, you just stand there—feeling it. The air. The quiet. Him.
Then you turn.
And so does he.
It hits all at once—that look.
His eyes lock onto you like he’s been waiting for this exact moment, like everything before it was just prelude. There’s nothing coy in it. Nothing hidden. Just open, devouring appreciation.
“…putain de merde, baby, look at you—”
It slips out, unfiltered. His voice rougher than usual, edges frayed, like something in him forgot to stay composed.
You feel heat bloom under his gaze.
And then—you return it.
Because he’s no better.
The way he stands there, entirely aware of himself, of how the fabric sits against him, how it frames him—it’s deliberate without seeming forced. Effortless arrogance. Beauty worn like second skin.
Your gaze lingers longer than you mean it to.
Traces.
Learns.
“I could say the same to you.”
Your voice comes out lower, softer—changed.
You notice it.
So does he.
And so does he.
The room tilts—just slightly.
Not from movement, but from the way his gaze lands. Heavy. Intent. Like he’s adjusting to a new version of you in real time, committing it to memory with almost clinical focus.
The lace sits against him like it belongs there.
Delicate, yes—but it only sharpens everything else. The line of his waist, the effortless arrogance in the way he stands, shoulders loose, chin tipped just enough to suggest he knows exactly what he looks like and has decided it’s worth admiring.
“...hm.”
It’s quieter this time. Not the earlier outburst—something more contained, more thoughtful. His eyes drag, unhurried, over you.
And then—back up.
You feel it in your spine.
The black lace on you—softer. It doesn’t command the way he does; it settles, melts into your skin, pulls warmth out of it. Makes everything look… intentional.
“God,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “That suits you.”
You huff a small laugh, breaking the tension just enough to breathe again. “Yeah?”
His mouth curves. “Unfairly so.”
You look at him again—properly this time—and something in your expression must shift, because he mirrors it almost immediately.
A grin. Crooked. Bright.
It slips out of you—a small, shared giggle. Unexpected. Human.
“Wait,” you say suddenly, turning away, scanning the room. “Where’s my phone—”
He watches you move, amusement flickering back in. “Ah. Of course. Documentation.”
“Obviously,” you toss over your shoulder, already digging through fabric, sheets, the small chaos of the room. “We look too good right now, I’m not letting this go to waste.”
A beat.
Then, lightly—
“Touché.”
When you turn back, phone in hand, he’s already shifting into it.
Not stiff. Never awkward.
He poses like breathing—natural, fluid, a little ridiculous on purpose. A tilt of the hip too dramatic, a hand thrown lazily over his head, eyes half-lidded in exaggerated seduction.
You laugh. “Stop—no, hold that—”
“I am holding it,” he insists, barely containing his own amusement as he adjusts, making it worse on purpose.
You snap a photo anyway.
“Incorrigible,” you mutter.
“Yet you persist.”
He moves without being asked next—onto the bed, settling with an ease that feels practiced. Legs crossing, posture shifting—something almost feminine in the line of it, though never fragile. Just… controlled.
Then uncrossing. Repositioning. Stretching out, then folding in again.
Each movement deliberate.
Each one watched.
You follow him with the camera, clicking, adjusting, circling slowly like you’re studying him from different angles—which, in a way, you are.
“Here,” you say after a moment, gesturing toward the mirror. “Go stand there.”
He glances at it, then back at you.
A flicker of interest.
“Ah,” he murmurs. He rises, drifting toward it, gaze already catching his own reflection before he’s fully there.
You step in behind him.
Close enough to feel the heat of him, not quite touching.
The phone lifts.
In the mirror— Him. And you behind him. And the small, rectangular intrusion of the lens capturing it all. Click.
You switch to video without thinking much about it.
“Look at yourself,” you murmur.
He does.
Not vainly. Not exactly.
Just… aware.
Of everything.
Of you.
Your hand appears in frame next—slow, deliberate—coming up along the line of his throat, fingers resting there for a second before curling lightly.
He exhales.
Soft. Audible.
Not exaggerated this time.
Real.
His eyes flick—just briefly—to yours in the reflection.
Then back to himself.
Your hand shifts, tracing downward—not hurried, not searching. Just mapping. Feeling the way he reacts in micro-movements: the tightening of his jaw, the slight lift of his chest, the way his breath recalibrates.
“Mm, mon amour...” he hums, barely casual.
You tug lightly at the waistband—just enough to snap the tension of it.
A quiet sound escapes him—half laugh, half something else.
“Careful,” he murmurs, voice dipping, gaze still fixed on the mirror, dazed. “You’re enjoying this far too much.” The video cuts.
Your hand lingers a second longer at his throat before smoothing down his back, slow, absent-minded now. The shift is subtle—less performance, more afterglow of being watched.
You pass him the phone.
He takes it like something ceremonial, glancing at the screen, then back at you.
“Oui, I remember,” he says lightly, thumb already adjusting something. “You scolded me thoroughly.”
You snort. “Not scolding. Teaching. Big difference.”
“Mm.” His eyes flick up, amused. “Yes, yes—your brilliance knows no bounds.”
“Exposure,” you remind, gesturing vaguely. “Bring it down a bit—yeah, like that.”
He hums, tilting the phone, testing angles with surprising patience.
Then—
Click.
You weren’t ready.
Brows lifted, mid-laugh, caught in that unguarded second between posing and reacting.
“Hey—” you start, half protesting, already smiling.
“Perfect,” he says, entirely pleased with himself. “Completely unprepared. I prefer you like this.”
You straighten instinctively, running a hand back through your hair—though it falls forward again, soft, imperfect. One leg bends slightly, weight shifting. Your hand comes up to your mouth, laughter muffled, teeth grazing lightly against your finger.
He watches all of it.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs, voice dropping—not commanding, just intent.
Click.
“Ah—there. That. Comme ça.”
Tap.
“The way you try to hide it,” he continues, almost narrating to himself. “As if it makes any difference.”
Click.
You shake your head, laughing again. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re beautiful. Stay still mon cherié.”
You don’t.
Instead, you cross the space and drop onto the bed with a soft thud, limbs loose, unposed.
He follows—circling, adjusting—then lifting the phone above you.
Click.
From above, you look different. Softer. Open.
“Interesting,” he murmurs.
“Don’t analyse me,” you reply, squinting up at him.
“Impossible.”
Lestat swipes his finger—videoing you now.
You push yourself up on your elbows, then sit, meeting his gaze through the lens.
Something shifts again.
Quieter.
He lowers himself to the edge of the bed, watching you—not just through the screen now, but directly. Measuring the difference.
“Come here,” you say.
He doesn’t hesitate.
The mattress dips as he moves closer—closer—until the space between you disappears entirely and you swing a leg over him, settling easily.
The camera wobbles slightly.
Your laughter spills out first—light, uncontained.
“Careful,” he says, though he’s smiling now too, something flushed in his expression, a rare looseness slipping through.
“Me?” you grin. “You’re the one filming.”
“I am documenting,” he corrects, breath catching faintly as you shift against him. “There is a difference.”
“Sure.”
You lean in, peering at the screen—at yourself, at him beneath you.
Then, without warning, you take the phone.
“Let me.” He lets you. The angle flips—now him in frame.
Below you looking up.
There’s colour in his cheeks now—subtle, but there. His lips part slightly, and for a moment he just… looks at you.
Unfiltered.
Then he laughs—soft, breathy, biting down briefly on his lower lip like he’s trying to contain it.
“You see?” he murmurs, voice lower now, slipping easily into French without thinking. “Je pourrais rester comme ça… te regarder… c’est déjà trop.”
The words roll out of him, softer, less performative than before—something closer to instinct.
You tilt your head, watching him through the screen.
“Yeah?” you murmur. “That all it takes?”
His eyes flicker—something sharper now, but tangled with amusement.
“You enjoy this intensely” he says, though there’s no real protest in it.
“We've established that, oui.”
You hold the camera a little steadier, letting it linger on him—on the way he reacts, the way he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself under your gaze.
That’s new.
That’s yours.
“Turn it off,” he says suddenly—half-laughing, half-breathless now, one hand coming up like he might reach for it but doesn’t quite follow through. “Enough—”
“Why?” you tease.
“Because—” he exhales, shaking his head, something almost shy flickering through before it disappears again “—because I can't wait any longer.”
The words land softer than expected.
"Baby, J'ai envie d'être baisée comme une salope—s'il te plait—"
You watch him a second longer.
••••••••••••
the phone is discarded.
It shifts again.
Not softer.
Sharper.
The air feels thinner, like something’s been stripped out of it—pretense, maybe. Politeness.
Your weight settles heavier into him, less playful now. Intentional.
His hands react instantly—gripping harder at your hips, fingers pressing in like he needs something solid to hold onto.
“Don’t—” he starts, breath catching, voice rougher than before. “Don’t slow down now.”
You don’t.
If anything, you drag it out. Deliberate. Mean in the way you know he likes—just enough friction, just enough pause to make him feel it build instead of break.
A sound tears out of him—low, wrecked, not dressed up in charm this time.
“Regarde-moi,” he mutters, almost a demand. “Look at what you’re doing.”
You do.
God—
He looks ruined already. Hair mussed, mouth parted, eyes blown wide and glassy like he’s watching something happen tohim instead of controlling it.
“Pretty boy,” you breathe, quieter now, almost reverent—but it lands like a spark to dry tinder.
His head tips back, throat exposed again, a broken laugh spilling out that dissolves into something closer to a moan.
“Tu es terrible—” he chokes out. “You know exactly— exactly—”
You cut him off with movement—harder this time.
His reaction is immediate.
A sharp inhale—then a sound that punches out of him, loud, uncontained.
“Putain—”
Your hands brace against his chest, holding yourself steady while you keep grinding your clothed cunt onto his angry erection peaking out of his ruined panties, chasing that exact reaction again.
“Yeah,” you murmur, breath uneven now. “Just like that.”
He laughs—but it’s fractured, breathless, caught somewhere between defiance and surrender.
“You’re—” he shakes his head, words failing him for once. “You’re going to be the end of me.”
“Doubt it.”
But your voice is softer now. Closer.
Your forehead presses briefly to his—grounding, for half a second—before everything slips again.
His grip tightens—pulling you closer, not guiding anymore, just reacting, chasing, losing that careful control he usually wears like armor.
“Mon Dieu…” he breathes, and this time there’s no irony in it. No performance. Just need. “S’il te plaît—”
The words break.
You feel it—that edge. That tipping point where he stops pretending to manage it.
And something in you answers.
The rhythm stutters—then collapses into something heavier, messier, shared.
It breaks.
Not cleanly.
Not all at once.
It fractures through both of you in uneven waves—breath first, then tension, then whatever fragile thread of control either of you had left.
His body reacts before his words do.
A sharp inhale—then a sound that tears out of him, raw, unguarded, nothing like the polished cadence he wears so well. His head falls back, throat exposed, spine arching just enough to betray how completely it takes him.
“M-mon cher—!”
It’s not said.
It’s dragged out of him.
Your name follows somewhere in the wreckage of it—half-formed, breathless, lost between languages.
And you—
You feel it answer. Immediate. Unavoidable. Your hands tighten against him, grounding, or maybe just holding on as everything pulls taut and then gives.
For a moment, there’s nothing but that—shared, overwhelming, messy in a way neither of you bothers to hide.
Then the aftermath comes in slowly.
Breath returning in pieces.
His chest rising sharply under your palms, a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh slipping through as he drags himself back together.
“…you are—” he starts, then exhales, shaking his head slightly. “God.”
You don’t answer right away.
Your hands move instead—slower now, less demanding. Tracing. Learning the aftermath of him, the way his body still reacts in smaller, sharper flinches that he doesn’t quite manage to conceal.
“Sensitive?” you murmur.
His eyes flick to yours—bright, still a little unfocused.
“Excessively,” he admits, voice thinner now, edged with something close to a laugh.
You shift slightly, easing the tension between you, your fingers brushing along the delicate fabric at his waist—testing, teasing the edge of it.
He inhales again—sharper this time.
“Careful,” he warns softly, though there’s no real resistance behind it. “Or I won’t recover at all.”
“Maybe that’s the point.”
That earns you a quiet, breathless sound—half protest, half amusement. your hand decidedly slips the underwear down and off of him, somehow manoeuvring. you purr at his softening cock, still red and flushed at the tip, so, so, so sensitive.
you lower your lips and tongue to take him in your mouth, making him almost jump. "oh, fuck, wh..."
you suckle around the head and hear him injuredly whine, leg kicking. you lap up the remainder of his release and pull off, successfully cleaning him up.
before your rationality catches up to you, a hand is instinctively going into your panties and gathering slick. those two fingers you hold up to lestat's mouth.
"go on, baby, taste it".
not that he needs to be told twice. he moans around your fingers like a whore whose just been given the elixir of life. you smirk at the sight of his head giving a tiny bob as his tongue and cheek polishes off your digits.
releasing with a pop, you chuckle gratifyingly. "i think", he gasps in air, eyes glazed but focused on you, "we should play dress up more often".
you both let out a small stifled laugh at that. "yeah, we should", you murmur, leaning in to kiss him one last time before dismounting him.
cw : MDNI - s1 Lestat, top male reader, sub Lestat, jealous Lestat, i bagged a baddie by being autistic aesthetic, nsfw, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of death, mentions of homophobia, inappropriate use of lipstick, lestat crashes out bad, y'all are on your own with the french translations, goodluck, anon request. wc : 12.8k
Lestat adored you as much as you worshiped him on bended knee. In your mind, you knew you threaded a line that could lead to a prosperous life, or one that would end in an instance. You were more than knowledge about the mans’ power and true nature, but your heart—your heart was his completely.
The vampire was more than familiar with those who'd been enthralled with him. Wanting to occupy his space, his life, his bed, his lips even, but you? He had such a sick fascination to keep you around and in his current immortal life, and then some. He did not proclaim love, even though it was obvious with the affection he smothered you in and vice versa.
What he couldn't stand, was the eyes of others roaming your body, thoughts wild and with hunger for you. Strangers ready to take you away from him, to indulge in sweet whispers and rough touches throughout the night. No one deserved your praise, your love, your adoration. To take his sun away, the shining star in his seemingly everlasting life?
Any man or woman who so much as gazed upon your divine form would meet with the cold hands of death much sooner than fate designed.
__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
“Ma bien-aimée, could you carry me to my coffin?”
You could barely register the words Lestat spoke as his lips pressed against the top of your head. Sitting up from your current position, you tilted your head up to meet the others' gaze. His eyes seduced you entirely without even trying, your half lidded eyes holding nothing but love and adoration for the man below you. “Ain't ya’ got legs? I've been much rougher than this before Les.” Your voice rumbled in a slightly deeper pitch seeing as you'd just woken up.
Your nude bodies seemed to shift and brush over each other as you moved. The couches weren't the best places to have such intimate moments, but you knew Lestat didn't have a bed, even for show. You knew of a guest room not too far off from his own, and that maybe he could have one there, but you never got the chance to mention it to him.
Lestat made a choked sound as you pulled away from his body, a ripple of warmth shooting up his spine. You'd gently chewed against your bottom lip as you pulled out and away from Lestat, feeling him cling onto what he could before the connection was broken. “Bien-aimé, tu es grand même quand tu dors,” he muttered to himself.
“Want me to run ya’ a bath Les?”
“It is too close to sunrise, I will take one later.”
“You sure? Wouldn't want to get your coffin all dirty.” You managed to find undergarments which had nearly been ripped to shreds with how eager Lestat had been. He'd vented out his frustrations, how Louis seemed to be avoiding him for some time now after — what he described as — having a blissful night of exotic wonders in each other's embrace. Not that you minded Lestat laying with others, just as he didn't judge you for being as queer as you were.
Ever since Lestat pulled you in, Louis had grown uneasy around you, almost as if he disliked you. You'd spoken to him before, but he dismissed you or ignored you most times — caring not for how you looked, how you acted, nor where you were from. It was truly as if he didn't want anything to do with you.
“I can always buy a new one, but if it is your mess, I don't mind it reeking of you for a while.”
You couldn't tell if that was an insult or a compliment, but you didn't take it to heart. “Well Les, was wonder’n if you wanted to see a show tomorrow, or maybe perform tonight. Haven't heard you play on stage in a while now!” Your arms maneuvered themselves under Lestats' legs and back before he proceeded to hook his arms around your neck.
“I would love to, really, but I have pressing matters to get to tomorrow.”
“Oh.” You almost seemed sad at that moment as you carried Lestat up the stairs, and apparently it was shown on your face as well.
“Stop that, you look like a kicked puppy when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“That…that face. You pout, you give me those eyes, almost begging for something. I will spare time to perform, I promise, but...I have plans at the moment.”
That was the last conversation you could remember having with the vampire before he seemed to disappear like smoke. He stopped visiting, stopped showing around, and suddenly you were alone. It almost seemed wrong, to go out into town by yourself, running your business without seeing him flaunt around you or sit on his lap. It was odd. But you knew what he was, what he truly was. A creature of the night. A God compared to the mortal you were.
And all you could do is wish longingly for his return.
For his touch.
For his voice.
For his love.
__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
You looked down at yourself, feeling a little overdressed for the occasion – even though it was a wedding – suits and ties never truly felt like you. Lestat was the fashionista, so to speak. One who loved to dress you up like a doll, having dragged you from tailor to tailor after one glance at your wardrobe. Though he never really complained with the way your suspenders seemed to shape your ass perfectly – perfectly enough that he felt the need to cop a feel whenever you dawned them.
In your hand you fiddled the RSVP that had been recently slipped through your mailslot, thumb running over the engraving on the card and your heart throbbing within your ears. Yes, Louis had a very caring sister that adored you, but you felt odd appearing at the wedding after Louis made every attempt to cut you out of his life. “Grace invited you,” you muttered to yourself, hearing the yard flood with noise, now realizing just how many people occupied said space. “If they didn’t want you here, they wouldn't have invited you…” You tried to coach yourself as nervousness wracked the entirety of your body, but it only seemed to worsen with every passing minute.
Your normal social butterfly self seemed to turn into more of a wallflower. Most of the people there knew the family and the couple – whether they be relatives or childhood friends – but you felt like a stranger within it all. Just the oddball bumpkin who’d started running the club down the lane. Nothing special. The sun was still out, and at that moment you had doubts that Lestat would be around. It almost felt like you needed him to hold your hand, at least to settle your buzzing nerves. Unfortunately, last you heard was that Lestat left a rather unsavory impression on the family, or so they say.
Sitting in the farthest seat you could, you sat and waited, watching the couple say their vows and declare their love for eachother. You could almost hear the nagging of your Ma and Memaw now, asking when you were going to bring some pretty girl around one day rather than a sack of potatoes over your shoulder. Wondering when they’ll get grandchildren from you. Your eyes left the couple as they jumped the broom, clapping your hands in a celebratory fashion with a sad smile appearing on your lips. Would marriage even be a chance in your future? Children even?
As you reminisced on your somber past, the evening seemed to turn into night and with the night came blaring music, laughter, and talk. Everyone seemed so happy, yet you'd kept your eye out for the blonde man who'd yet to crash said wedding. You could only assume that the two men didn’t end up on a good note, at least on Louis' side, seeing as Lestat spoke of him often to you. He always spoke of what was troubling him, his woes and worries as you two would share the couch and sometimes even your own bed.
“There you are! Been lookin’ all over for you!” Your shoulders jumped in surprise, the wine you were sipping on hitting the back of your throat as you tried your best to clear it. Grace made her way over with her now newly wedded husband in tow, holding the hem of her dress so as to not drag it on the ground. “Oh don’t try to hide yourself now country boy, where have you been?” She gave a playful pinch against your arm, none too painful, but she seemed much stronger than she looked.
Rubbing against the area on you arm after placing down the glass, you offered a shy smile in return. “Well, I assumed I wasn’t…welcome here. Family is a joy to be around, but I wasn’t sure all of you enjoyed being around me, is all.” You made a small pained noise as the smaller woman called you out by your name and you were pinched once again – in the same spot no less. You glanced down and then to the female, head tilted to the side in a questionable fashion, as if wondering why she was beating you up so badly.
“Boy, don’t let Mamaw hear that! She loved having your company, much better than that French White Louis is doin…business with, something about him just don’t sit right with me. But you? You’re sweeter than a pot of honey, and Paul seems to have taken a liking to you!”
“More than what most could say.” Levi gestured to himself, knowing that Paul cared not for him or the fact that Levi seemed to have married with his sister.
“Paul’ll warm up…one day, though I think he is just be’n protective is all. His darling sister being carried away with someone he barely knows, I could understand his worries,” you chided. You knew all too well how that felt, the protectiveness and all. A fleeting memory if anything. “Not to mention he certainly doesn’t like the fact that you are not wholly faithful to the name of the Lord and Christ. You know how he is Levi, just be happy he didn’t do anything rash during the vows…” As you spoke to the married couple you could feel eyes practically piercing through the side of your head. Your gaze slowly drifted, flickering past guests and family friends that seemed to mingle between each other.
You blinked almost feverishly as you came to see Louis staring directly at you, bewildered and almost unsure if you were really there. He didn’t come to confront you – no – but instead saw your gaze match his before going back to the slice of cake he was indulging himself in while with his brother. Though that didn’t stop him from glancing over every now and then. “And please, Ma du lac doesn’t need to know what I thought. I was just worried is all. Louis doesn’t seem to like me all too much at the moment. I can’t find what needle got stuck in his ass, but the moment I do, I’ll yank that grumpy mug completely. That way he won’t be runnin around frown’n all the damn time.”
Grace practically cackled as such a thought, wiping away a stray tear before gently touching against the spot she pinched, though now you were on high alert in case she decided to bruise you anymore than she’s already done. “Well, know that you’re welcome here and that I’m very happy you came. Enjoy yourself country boy. Looks like you may have needed a day out anyways. You look like a lost puppy over here at the table! For someone who runs a club, I didn’t take you as the shy type of man. I can introduce you to some people if you’d like.”
“No need!” You quickly held your hands up and laughed it off. “I’m just not used to gatherings like this I guess. I’ve only been here for a few months, so being invited to your wedding – it wasn’t what I was expect’n. Anyhow, I can mingle by myself, I assure you. You two enjoy your night, Grace,” giving a short nod as a farewell to the female, you did the same to her partner. “– Levi.”
It wasn’t long before you found yourself far from most of the commotion, picking at the plate of chocolate cake that you happened to pick up.
“Didn’t expect you to be here…”
What was it with the Du lacs’ and their ability to scare you, while compromised with food or a drink no less? You cleared your throat before turning to Louis who didn’t look none too pleased to see your face. “Well, I said this before, I’ll say it again. I didn’t expect to be here neither. Your…Your sister invited me last minute. I was hesitant to even come, I didn’t want to…upset you more than I already have bein’ around here and all.”
Louis had always been a wildcard to you. He was a smart man, you knew that, but he was always shot down and put under the boot of the white man because of the color of his skin. You found it insulting that the world today would treat those with different colors and tints to their skin like stray dogs – tossing them scraps when they feel sorry, a sliver of a bone when they do something that pleases them, a collar…when they want someone loyal to work for them. But if they grew tired of them, found even the slightest bit of fight or defiance? They’d dispose of them or throw them in a hole they wouldn’t be able to dig themselves out of.
You knew discrimination when you saw it, heard it even. And you knew first hand how it felt, even with your own family looking down on you, not because of the way you looked, but because of what you presented yourself as. Louis had a name for himself, but respect was rarely a two way street when someone of a higher status spoke to him. But you saw yourself as equals, human beings. There was no ill will you bore towards him, but you couldn’t understand the ill will he held towards you.
Seeing as Louis hadn’t responded, you found yourself a bit awkward and out of place. “Seems I’ve…overstayed my welcome. Tell Paul I said hello, I'll get out of your hair.”
“Wait–” Suddenly you felt a hand grip against your arm, tugging you gently before a sigh came from the other. “Look, I…I don’t hate you man. Grace chewed me out good when I told her I didn’t care to see your face around. I guess I just – I don’t know, I haven’t been myself lately is all. I’ve been a little unfair to you. Hell, even Paul says you're a walking angel…or something like that? What I’m saying is, I judged you too harshly before gettin’ to know you.” In that moment, Louis spoke with sincerity in his voice, though all you could hope is that it came from the heart as well.
“If that’s your way of apologizing, I ain’t complaining.” There was a cheeky smile that appeared on your face before you gave the other a knowing look. “If you wanted to really say you’re sorry, I’d love to see an encore of – what did you call it? The ‘ABCDEFGs’, was it?”
“Oh god, now don’t you go start’n nothin man!” Louis playfully punched your shoulder and flashed his brilliant white teeth as a smile appeared against his face. A much better look than him always running around with a frown, is what you thought.
“Well, I ain’t never seen nobody tap their feet like that, ain’t had a clue that the Louis du lac knew how to put on a show!” You joked on.
“Yeah, and it’s a first – and the last time you see’n any of that. You lucky it’s Graces wedding, I’d have been halfway down the quarter the moment those shoes came out if it wasn’t.” Louis let out a bit of laughter as you two seemed to go back and forth. He assumed that maybe he just had a little too much wine or maybe one too many slices of cake, that the sugar and the alcohol was getting to him. How did he not notice how much of a joy it was to be around you?
You didn’t bring anything dreary or depressing to the table, nor did you try to flex wealth or name to him, even upon meeting him. Maybe he’d invite you around more, for dinners, maybe an outing if he had time between handling his own work. It was a moment between you two before both your laughters died down and the voices of others clambering about reached your ears. The space between the two of you was impregnated by a comfortable silence shared, though it seemed as if something was being held back.
“So how has–”
“So how have you–”
You both stopped and chuckled before you nodded your head towards Louis. “Go ahead, and don’t fight me on it. If you do, I’ll forget what I was tryin to tell ya in the first place. It happens a lot, believe me. I got it in my head, so–” You then gestured for him to continue as you had started a quick ramble, trying to keep your question at bay and at the forefront of your mind before it disappeared.
“Right…?” He spoke, squinting at you for a moment before shaking his head. “Was just wondering, how you and Lestat was doin’ is all. Curious.” It seemed as if he was just as uncomfortable as he was eager for an answer when saying his name. You couldn’t blame him. Lestat was on Louis like a tick on a dog before you appeared, and after? It seemed like you were his new attraction, though after whatever disagreement or argument they last had, Louis seemed to have given him the cold shoulder.
“Honestly?...I’m not much sure myself. Figure he done got tired of lil old me is all. Haven’t seen him in some time now, a few weeks or so. Nothing to get all down about really. Flaunted about how I made him laugh and..a little more, but nothin special Louis. Last I heard, Les was looking for you. Kept wondering why it seemed like you were hidin’ from him.” You spoke truthfully as Louis’ brows furrowed together in thought before he swatted his hand.
“I stopped doing business with him. I figured I’m good on my own as is. It just wasn’t a right fit is all. Better that he’s not around no more. I can actually focus for once.” Picking up the wine glass he once abandoned while speaking to you, he took a sip before continuing, pointing a finger at you with the same hand that held said drink.. “So, what was it that you wanted to ask me?”
You opened your mouth to speak, but clearly the thought had already gone like the wind. Louis took that silence into consideration before sighing.
“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you forgot?”
“Slipped my mind a bit, yeah,” you say sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head as you watched Louis smile behind his cup, shaking his head at your antics. “If I can’t remember, it couldn’t have been that important!” Though truth be told, you had another question now rolling about in your mind. Did he know about what Lestat truly was under the guise of being this charming foreigner who stumbled across such a place?
“Anyways, besides still handling the club right now, I’ve been enjoying the daylight hours much more. Sometimes…club gets boring. Same band playing twice that week? Pass. Place won’t burn down or go under if I leave for a night or two to sleep. Been visiting, though everyone said you’d been busy or asleep for the most part. Guess stopin to smell the roses every once in a while ain’t too bad.”
Louis returned a small smile to you. “You seem like you’re doing alright for yourself,” he praised, patting you on the shoulder. “If you ever need any help, I’m around. And from what I know so far, Grace ain’t gon’ leave you alone no way. If she had it her way, you’d be another brother I’d have to take care of.”
“Take care of? Me? I think that would be my job if anything. And look, Levi is already lookin at me like I’mma steal his wife away. It ain’t my fault she likes my company so much! Well that and she’s been craving those sugar cookies I brought some months ago. Promised I’d share the recipe at one point or another.” Suddenly you made a pained face as Louis slapped your arm in the exact spot that Grace pinched you, twice.
“Those were yours?!”
Rubbing against your poor sore arm, you nodded.“Yeah? Look, I can’t cook actual meals without damn near burning down half the block. I’m more useless than a pair of tits on a horse in the kitchen! Baking, that’s when you can be messy on purpose and try all sorts of stuff in the kitchen.”
Louis sighed with a grin on his lips before looking at you, this time having claimed the knowing look. “Well, now you’ll have me pounding at your door whenever I have a sweet tooth. Could have sworn they were some sort of imported sweets or somethin like that. Grace nearly took my hand for the last one.”
“I don’t doubt that, but she’ll take more than just your hand iffen she hears you getting the recipe before her.”
“Oh you know she wouldn’t do anything that crazy…”
The two of you paused and then glanced at each other for a split second before bursting out into laughter. Louis was half kneeled over while holding an arm against his stomach all while you tried to keep your balance with one hand on the table directly behind you. It took about a minute or two for the both of you to calm down, Louis wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Didn’t mean to have you all tickled t..tonight,” you stated as you proceeded to calm yourself down.
“I think they put something in the wine, I’m telling you.” Louis held up his nearly finished glass before turning and hearing you yawn. It was getting late, but for him, this was most likely going to be an all night event.
“I should be headin back to my place. Been up all day as nervous as a bull in a nursery. Not a wink of sleep either. Was worried I’d be out of place or that I was overdressed, or that the invite slipped through the wrong mailslot.” You never normally had anxiety play such a big part in your life, but it had you running rampant all morning.
Unable to think properly, your room was still a mess after throwing clothes out of the closet and stressing about what looks best with your favorite pair of boots. Lestat would have known how to dress you accordingly – now that was something that you truly missed. He refused to let you go out looking like a hot mess, though he didn’t mind dragging that hot mess around a corner and doing whatever came to mind when he felt like it.
“I take the blame for that. Shouldn’t have made you feel like I hated you so much. You’re pretty alright…’country boy’.” There was once again a grin on Louis face at the teasing name, noticing the eye roll as you soon said your goodbyes. As Grace called for her brother and you snuck another swig of wine on your way out, your exit was cut short by someone stepping right in front of you. And to your surprise, it was Paul.
Paul.
A sweet boy, his mother calling him fragile while others outside the family called in delusional. You weren’t one to ever judge, and you weren’t starting either. You were one of the few people who listened to Paul truly, not from being a patron of the church, not being paid in anyway. You knew his mind was different from others, but he was still flesh and blood, still human.
He never hurt anyone, and to call him crazy was more of an insult to him, and would do no good. You never thought he was crazy, not once. Just blessed in a different way, though you couldn’t help but to have your concerns. When he spoke to himself, knowing he’s been in and out of the institution, and how everyone seemed to worry – it would keep anyone on edge. But everytime he spoke to you, he never gave you any trouble. He was loved, and you could only hope that he kept a good head on his shoulders.
“Paul! It’s nice to see you again! I was just askin–” Suddenly he grabbed both your arms, a worried look appearing on your face as you looked back at his own concerned form.
“Are you still talking to him? That..”
“Les? No..I ain’t spoke to him in sometime. Is everything…okay Paul?”
“Keep away from him.” He spoke in urgency. “Louis is being dragged by that man – no – that devil. He ain’t got his claws in you yet, he’s tryin. Don’t let him take your wings, your light, please.” Paul warned, though his grip was as if you were going to disappear if he even thought to let you go. “Are you faring well? The birds asked about you, about your mind.”
“I’ve been alright, I assure you Paul. I want to put your uneasiness to rest, I’m takin’ good care of myself and can only hope that you are too.” You placed your hands against his own arms, giving him a reassuring squeeze before seeing him nod slightly, letting his grip slide and hands fall to his sides. “Been thinkin about what I’mma do with myself. Only job I have is running the club currently, I’ve started taking breaks though. Feels good, clearing my mind a much as my body. Sometimes you need a break from the loud music and attention, it gets to be too much for some people – for me. Being in the company of a good book at the end of the day can sometimes cleanse the soul.”
It wasn’t until then that a thought came to mind and you dug in your pocket, pulling out a silver chain necklace with a dove and a cross charm dangling from it. “Meant to give you this a while ago. Was from my own. I thought that maybe you’d find better use in it than me.”
Paul blinked for a moment, looking at the necklace in slight awe and confusion as it puddled into his hand, the chiliness of the metal bringing slight goosebumps. He looked at the piece of jewelry before rapidly shaking his head, balling his hand around it before trying to stuff it back in your hands, “I can’t – I couldn’t, you need them. Close to your heart.”
“Paul, please...I don’t mind. They would probably want it this way anyhow, not like any of my family’s gon ask about it anyhow.” As Paul opened his hand to drop the necklace in your palms, he could no longer feel it as your hands wrapped around his one. When you pulled away, none of you had it in your hands. Instead, it was somewhat wrapped around his wrist, a little trick you learned some time ago.
“I have to go, Paul, but I’ll see you soon, alright? Tell Ma du Lac I said hello, and make sure that brother of yours behaves!” You called out as you started making your way out of the yard, having eaten and drank your fill, and knowing Paul had yet to realize the necklace was on his wrist. When he did, he’d do his best to give it back to you, but you’d be too far gone for that to happen.
As you finally made your escape, you listened to the band play and as the music got further and further as you walked your way home. It was some distance away, but you couldn’t trust yourself to drive – not like many people trusted you behind the wheel anyways. You assumed that you would simply resume the life you lived before Lestat – thinking that he may have left the city, found some other enjoyment elsewhere, but he didn’t seem like the type to do so. That didn’t sound like your Lestat.
Your thoughts paused for a moment and a frown appeared on your lips. He wasn’t truly yours. You didn’t know what relationship the two of you shared, though his sweet words always seemed to seduce you back into his arms.
But you could say the same, how whenever you swooned over him, he seemed to melt right into your arms, begging you to tell him what he may have missed from being busy the days prior, or to simply know what thoughts were running through your head. And you knew his tricks – that he was more than fully capable of reading your mind, yet he would ask you. He would sprawl across your body like a common house cat while you’d yammer on, combing your fingers through his blonde locks while he cooed in his french tongue.
Shaking your head and trying to rid of the bittersweet memory that left an odd taste in your mouth, instead savoring the night you spent speaking with Louis and his family, not knowing what sort of darkness would soon befall them once the sun rose.
The rest of your night was spent in the comforts of your room, spending a few hours cleaning, biding time, too exhausted to manage a club and too caught in your own thoughts to go chasing after Lestat like a dog. You knew where he stayed, but he was free spirited. Did what he want when he wanted. Did as he pleased. Who were you, a small country boy who stumbled upon a vampire – who would you be to try and stop him? You could have prowled in the nighttime to try and look for him, but at the end of the day, he was the vampire, and you?
Human.
Your days and nights turned normal, more than you really wanted. There was no thrill, no real spark other than the new people that appeared every now and then at the club, new faces, new performances. And as the name of your club spread throughout the south, your name grew in popularity. There was a time where you’d presented yourself on stage after weeks of new encounters, introducing yourself before the main performance came on. Apparently your pre-show talk had the audience in tears, laughing, clapping, and asking for more.
You had a way about yourself to somehow make the room that much brighter. Comedy was now your limelight, though it didn’t take a genius to know that things came to you naturally. It wasn’t normal for cubs at the time, but it was your business after all.
Outside the club, a few weeks after the wedding, you learned of Pauls’ passing. You stopped by to state your condolences to the family, and even happened to ask where Louis went. When you finally got in touch with Grace – seeing as his Mama had nothing good to say about him – she said he’d done ran off. Whether it be the guilt of not being able to protect his brother from themself or because of all the sudden burdens he felt collapse onto him all at once. You knew Louis was probably devastated, but his sudden disappearance? It had Lestat written all over it, though you had once again heard nothing from one or the other, so what was the point in chasing after a ghost?
The next few months, Lestat seemed to fade into the back of your mind, nearly forgotten. Your days grew busier and the months grew bitter. Life went on as if the vampire never existed. Grace and yourself wrote weekly when you didn’t have time to visit and vice versa. She’d attended one of your shows when she had the time, with Levi in tow and the two even agreed that you were quite the comedian, though they weren’t much club goers.
Of course it wasn’t an every night thing and you had most definitely started to enjoy the mornings where you could occupy yourself and destress from the night before. Having to be around people, entertain, greet, drink, talk with others everyday got tiring real fast. If you didn’t catch a break or have a little ‘you’ time, people would start seeing a not-so friendly side of you that only showed up if you were woken up rudely. Overstimulated, if you will.
There were nights where you grew lonely, where the words on a page couldn’t serve much as companions. Not that Shakespere was the best partner in crime, but it did some to escape the dry and plain days that left you bored itching for something new. You weren’t one to walk the strip, not with the people that normally ran past those parts. You had no problem with the girls, but at the moment, none seemed to fit your taste, and none too many men were as open as you were.
You got the occasional gossip from one Jane to the other John – how people questioned the way you dressed, the way you spoke, how you acted between man and woman and who’s attention you’d seek out the most. You didn’t let such a thing get to your head, whether it was discrimination for which way your pendulum swung or otherwise.
But it didn’t seem to stop trouble from coming your way.
Occasional threats in the mail, rocks thrown at your windows in the dead of night, your car tires being slashed and car scratched to hell, yet no one ever knew how it happened or who did it. None of your neighbors knew, turning a blind eye and moving on. Typical. Getting replacements weren’t much of a problem, not when the club paid most of the bills, but it was a constant reminder of how people saw you, and how they would treat you like any other they found to be different.
The worst of it happened when you were stuck walking home one night, all by your lonesome and of course you just happened to stumble upon a group of soldiers, sailors – whoever they were – who’d either heard about you or seen one of your shows. A quiet walk turned into a limp home, bruises adorning your body and a soreness coming from your ribs. You knew better, knew how to defend yourself and de-escalate things when the heat rose.
Unfortunately you’d been dealt the shit hand. Having been up against two, you may have had better chances, but five men that were drunk off their asses? There was no chance for you, and at that rate, it was better to cover your head and tuck while they dealt whatever repressed rage onto your body. Nearly gave you a shiner — instead delivering you a rather nasty gash through your left brow. Thankfully your body took more blows, but the soreness would just be another thing to sleep off.
After all, it was just another Friday night for you – and another one-liner for your comedy act.
__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
“Another champagne for you Mr…”
“Nah, not right now, but thank you Miss Rosey, though I think the boys in booth four might need another round. And if they are giving you any trouble–”
“Oh don’t worry, you’ll know if they’ll cause trouble for me!” The server gave you a mischievous smile and a wink before she made her way over to the designated booth while you were left to your lonesome in your own private booth. You’d been listening to the band play for about half an hour before you started to tune it out, the noise fading into the background as you inked paper on folded knee. You’d started writing after some time, whether it was your thoughts or not, you weren’t quite sure. The words flowed like music, maybe more, but it was hard to decipher yourself. They were just words after all, blurbs, word vomit that you needed to get out before the thoughts left you. As you were feverishly writing, line after line, you heard your name in an almost questionable fashion. The first time it seemed to be a blur in between the music, maybe just a buzzing in the back of your head.
The second time seemed to focus you back to reality, the music coming back as loud and as blaring as it was before. Your head turned up, brows furrowing as a man stood in front of the circular table that separated the half circle booth and themselves. “Sorry, I…I was a little too focused on myself, need something?” The paper on which you wrote on was slipped and closed into a small booklet that you now settled on the table. The man that called out your name was not someone you’d seen before or even met – and you were damn good with names and faces, a little quirk that always kept people on their toes.
“I was just wondering if you were the owner of said establishment, heard a bunch of people yapping about it so I came over to chat was all!” He held a hand out to you before finally introducing himself. “Name’s Viktor Sawyer, new around here.”
“I can tell,” you replied, gripping his hand before shaking it. “You don’t sound like you’re from here no way. Where’d you hightail it from kiddo?”
“Kiddo?” He laughed, “You look just as young as me, maybe younger. But me? I’m from upstate. Took a heap load of train rides, boat down the Mississippi, ended up here after an all day ride in the back of a box car after my last ticket was stolen.” The man seemed to joke at the end of his sentence, but it was all too real for how easy it was for some people to get pickpocketed. “Mind if I?...” Viktor then gestured to the booth in which you rolled your head and patted against the booth.
“Oh, I don’t mind, but the ghost might find it pretty rude if you give them an unwanted lapdance.” As you shrugged and looked at the young man, they stared back at you with confusion before a small chuckle left their lips, understanding that you were simply poking fun at the moment.
“I’m sure the ‘ghost’ wouldn’t mind it at all. Probably the most action than they’ve had in some years, yeah?” He joked right back, sending a quirky smile of your own onto your face. It'd been sometime since someone tended to match your energy, not that you were complaining.
“Champagne?” You offered up, tilting your glass towards the side. “And you can't just say you’re from upstate and expect me not to be curious. Down here, we ain't much for keeping secrets, and I ain't got no ill will towards strangers, so don't be shy.” Gesturing for one of the server girls, you two would be sharing words for the majority of the night.
Now, your club was as thriving as all get up, but there was always a drawback as it was back in the days. Only certain people could get in, people with money, people with a name. No old Sam on the street could just waltz their way in, it was almost prestigious in a way. Not like you cared much for the highlights, seeing as you came to New Orleans a simple man with ideas of starting new. Of making your name for yourself. It almost happened overnight – it did happen overnight.
It wasn’t to be expected, but it was a pleasant surprise. The thought of the blonde vampire, creature of darkness, the man who seduced you with not only words, but his entirety…he’d done so much for you. And all you did was make him laugh. A joyful, boyish, carefree laugh as if he hadn’t laughed in centuries. True laughter, pure, not from a cruel dead or joke – not to spite someone – it was simply the joy he amounted by being with you.
Beyond the past thoughts of Lestat, you indulge yourself in Viktor Sawyer, a businessman from New York. After getting a few drinks in him, he spoke about his travels and the unsavory events that came with it. He was a workaholic as much as he was an alcoholic. He was looking for work, a partnership more like but he didn’t specify what. He had been twice divorced, let slip out that he seemed to dance to a different tune – not that you minded – but three hours passed and he was drunk on booze and wine.
He was a good six foot tall man, granted, he was a handsome fellow. Piercing green eyes, slick, short blonde hair, the suit he wore looked too tight on him. At one point the two of you were laughing at nonsense yet you were still somewhat sober, having only sipped through a glass or two while Viktor had ordered something a little stronger – had enough money to pay past the bill and even laid out a grand tip for the waitress.
Which led you to where you were now, roaming the streets of the quarter with a drunk businessman on your shoulder. It wasn't a great look for you as allegations and rumors were soon to spread, but at such a late time in the night others would probably be as drunk as Viktor was. His words were slurred but it seemed he was trying to flirt with you, hand running down the side of your neck and down your chest, doing his best to fiddle with the buttons on your white dress shirt.
And with him unable to tell you where he was staying, your only other option was to either leave him to some mugger or – to be a gentleman and let him sleep off the drinks for the night under a roof.
You just wished that it didn’t have to be yours.
By the time you’d gotten through the front door, Viktor draped over your own body like he was trying to be worn, you sighed heavily. “Alright Vik, gonna get you some water, let ya rest till the morn.” You were somewhat tired, seeing as your nights and days blurred and your body always needed a good 12 hours before it could get used to your odd schedule. You watched as the businessman seemed to flop himself on the couch with a bit of your guidance as well, reaching up to try and tug you down with him, “Vik–”
“Ain’t gotta be like that sweetheart, just returning the favor!” Viktor had already stripped off whatever overcoat was on his body, his breath reeking of alcohol as it wafted against your face. It caused you to inwardly cringe at the smell, but you knew the man was drunk off his ass. You weren’t much in the mood either, not like you’d seen much action in some time. But the man was intoxicated as hell and you weren’t interested. He leaned in close, trying to hold your face before you snatched yourself away.
“Viktor, come on buddy. I can’t do this, believe me. You’re a…nice guy and all but uh…”
“Oh baby please, you were lookin’ at me like I was a damn meal back at the club. Don’t tell me ya’ kept me laughing just for kicks?” He slurred, leaning in once more and almost placing his entire body weight onto you. Is that what he thought? That you wanted to get him into bed, even though it simply seemed like you two were just having a good time as newly acquainted friends. “Come on babes, you know how to have a fun time, right?”
Your eyes rolled as you helped Viktor onto his feet once more, watching as he stumbled to try and finger your shirt off. Even as you led him into your room and pushed him onto the bed, he sat back with a cocky grin upon his face. “Nuff with the nicknames ‘Slick’. Imma get you some water, now lay ya’ ass down. I brought you here because you could barely tell me where you were stay’n. Now, cool down before I do what my ma would do and beat the sense out and back into ya’.”
It was only then that when you turned around to walk away, your arm was grabbed and suddenly you were pulled into his lap. Yes, you could handle yourself against the man, not afraid of him at the least. You’d dealt with much scarier than a horny, boozed up businessman.
Scoffing, you felt his sloppy movements of his arm wrapping around your waist and a hand at the front of your throat. No wonder he was twice divorced with such a limp wrist on him. You didn’t care about how he seemed to whisper in your ear or try to kiss against your neck. It only made you retract, snatching yourself away again before hearing Viktor almost whine out. “Baby–”
“I ain’t ya’ baby, Viktor,” you stated plainly, back towards the man before continuing. “And don’t make me regret doing the right thing.”
“Taking me home?”
“Taking you in rather than leave’n you out of the street!” It was then that you felt Viktor cop a feel, in which case something in you turned. You whipped around, quick movements before your hands pinned Viktors against the bed, staring him down as you hovered over his body, straddling his waist as you kept him from moving or trying to make another move on you. Staring him down, you did your best to show some sort of intimidation, but the sudden actions seemed to spur the drunkard on, biting his bottom lip in amusement.
“Got no problem with you being on top either, I can play that game with you!”
You groaned out in annoyance, feeling the mans’ growing arousal as he tried to roll his hips up into yours. “Tired of your shit Viktor, get it together.” Pushing him back onto the bed with no sympathy for his drunken stupor you made your way out of the room, leaving the man to call your name as he sprawled upon the bed. You could hear him calling as you slipped into the kitchen and instead of fixing him anything to help him sober up, you splashed your own face. When did you get so strict, so antsy? You hadn’t had a night to yourself in some time. And for someone to be in your bed, to want to indulge in filthy pleasure, who were you to deny him? He was good looking, but drunk off his ass. And from the sounds of it, he wanted to be the one to lay you out for the night. You definitely weren’t interested.
Couldn’t seem to figure out if something was wrong with you at the time. Not to say you weren’t flattered by the other advances, before and after he was sloshed, but you felt nothing in retaliation. You simply had a good laugh, a few drinks, you hadn’t meant to charm him or give off that you wanted to sleep with him. Or did you? Lonely nights in an empty bed, an empty home no less. You weren’t the least bit interested in the whorehouse, not as if you didn’t care for the ladies themselves – calling you sweetheart and whatnot – but it wasn’t your current taste.
Splashing water onto your face, you calmed your racing thoughts down. Maybe one night wouldn’t hurt. Maybe something like this would help your mood from the normal drag. You were afraid you’d end up all mugfaced and mopey like Louis if you didn’t have time to truly enjoy yourself without it being a job or forcing yourself to do so. As water dripped down your face, your thoughts were split between “what would change in one night,” and “I don’t even like him like that! I’ll just sleep it off on the couch”.
Your mind seemed to go quiet just as Viktors calls for you went silent. Only then did you thank the higher powers that he finally passed out or gave up on his attempts to get you back there. Stripping off your own overcoat and walking back into the main room of your home, you dropped said cloth on the floor only to stand there frozen, stiff as a board once your head moved to look up rather than at your feet.
“Lestat?”
Your lungs seemed to lose air as you stared at him, confused as much as you were shocked. You questioned yourself, not knowing if you made him up in your fit of loneliness or if he was actually there, in the dim lighting of the room. He stood there, at the bottom of the steps that lead to your room but also against the wall that was directly across from the doorway of the kitchen.
That flawless face, chiseled jaw, god given face, wavy blonde hair you ran your fingers through more times than you could remember, his broad yet sculpturesque physic, those blue pools you’d get lost in no matter the time of day – it was him. In all his glory. It was only then that you finally came to your senses and realized that there was red dripping from his hands, not only coating his fingers, but it was dragged over his mouth – smeared – and slung across his shirt like a work of art. There was an almost unreadable look in his grey-blue hues, ones that could and did challenge the most beautiful of days, shaming the sky in comparison.
He didn’t move, almost like a statue, but with – what you could only assume was blood – slowly dripping down his fingers and onto the floor, it reminded you that you were not frozen in time. That he was there in all his glory, missing his normal presten overcoat that would go beautifully with whatever suit or undershirt he chose to wear, his blonde wavy hair let down, a bit unkempt compared to how neat and groomed he normally kept himself, but his body was still as water, as unmoving as a statue.
Almost.
You could barely tell if he was breathing, the stillness of his body startling you as you trekked carefully but moved in closer to him. It was only then when you inched towards the vampire did you notice the small trembles, the minute quivering of his hands that slowly clenched into bloody fist, nails digging into his palms. His chest rose and expanded as he took a breath in through his nose, jaw tightening as he stared you down. A sliver of fear seemed to jump up your spine at the subtle movement, but it didn’t stop you from slowly closing in. You were a mere stride away from standing directly in front of him, but before you could call out his name again, like a ticking time bomb – he exploded.
“You fool!” He roared out, causing you to nearly stumble back onto your ass. There was a look of anger written all over his face that was once completely unreadable. “You! You are pathetic! Ungrateful! Rien qu'une plaisanterie vivante, affamée d'amour et d'attention!” A loud crash could be heard as he used his strength to knock over a display, the power behind his hand flinging the rather sturdy and wooden case into the wall across the room as it caught air. Wood chips splintered every which way, glass shattering and sprinkling onto the floor. Your eyes flicked from the damage to the man who stood before you, chest now heaving as he started spewing curses in his french tongue and pointing at you.
You could barely understand him, though a few curses here and there from what he taught you, but you were more confused than scared at the moment. Fear was in the back of your mind, not as present as the sudden concern. “Les! What are you on about?”
“Espèce d'idiot! Espèce d'idiot de campagne, de petit ver de terre! Do not play dumb with me!” Lestat proceeded to call you out by your name as he spewed what you could only depict as insults.
Suddenly he started laughing.
His seemingly harmless chuckles escalated into full blood cackles, the man laughing harder and harder till it seemed almost hysterical. His pupils were dilated, fangs bared with blood dripping slowly down his chin, and his hand shaking as he continued to spew fire in your direction. “You think that you can replace me? De copier quelque chose qui ne peut pas être remplacé! Do you know who I am chéri?” Lestat questioned, almost softly before his tone roared out once again. “Do you know what I am!?”
“Lestat, what happened? You come in here all covered in blood after being away for this long, yelling at me?”
The vampire could not hear you, not over his constant ranting and yelling and french tongue that seemed to go on, venom seeming to be laced in every consonant and syllable. “After everything that I have given you! Comme mon cœur bat pour toi! Et pourtant tu essaies de faire en sorte qu'un salaud blond essaie d'être moi?! HA! Your funniest attempt at a joke yet! To stoop so low!”
“Les…” You were now more concerned than ever, watching as he stared pacing as if to restrain himself at the moment, his nails having swiped at the wall, ripping up the wallpaper and digging into the bricks that were settled underneath, carving into the harsh material while his hand remained unscathed.
“You are just like any other! Pitoyable! L'excuse la plus triste pour un homme! Rien qu'un chien qui a soif et aboie pour en savoir plus! Tellement impatient que vous ayez essayé de trouver quelque chose dont il n'y en a qu'un!” Lestat cackled as he seemed to move back and forth, looking towards you with a predatory gaze before looking at the floor, shaking his head and almost growling. Restraining himself.
“Les!” You tried again to call out for him, but he did not waver.
“Humans, you are all the same…! You are all ungrateful, insatiable pests! Meat for the slaughter and lambs for wolves! Je devrais vous vider et regarder la vie pitoyable que je vous ai fournie clignoter brièvement dans votre cerveau idiot..what was I thinking! You! You?!” He pointed at you once again, the manic grin never leaving his face. “J'ai eu pitié d'un chien qui n'a aucune loyauté!”
“Lestat! Calm–”
“Good for nothing! A dull piece of entertainment! A clown above all clowns! Une pitoyable excuse de fils! No wonder your kin left you high and dry!”
“Lestat!–”
“Une pitoyable excuse pour un humain! Who would ever want you anyways! Laper goulûment ce qui reste d'une bonne chose! An ungrateful mutt!” His voice came out raw, almost hurt as he overwhelmed your own voice, giving you no space to speak.
“Les–”
“N'étais-je pas assez bien pour toi?! Je ne te suffisais pas! Too boring for the great comedian you came to be?! Est-ce pour cela que vous avez choisi de vous coucher avec une excuse pathétique pour un remplacement!?”
“Le–”
“Je ne suis pas assez bien pour toi!? Assez bon pour garder seul votre amour seul?! Is that too much to ask for!?”
“LESTAT!”
Your voice seemed to boom with sudden authority, your hands finding his wrist before pushing his body back into the wall, practically sandwiching him between that and your own body. The room that was once filled with the rampant yelling and swears of French from Lestat and your desperate attempts to call out for him were now silenced. It was now only the pants between the both of you as his was from his outburst, you, from the sudden burst of adrenaline that seemed to flow through your veins. The two of you stared each other down, getting lost in one another's gaze.
Lestat had never heard you so demanding, never having raised your voice in such a way, not even in a playful manner towards him. You’d never been rough with him, and even in bed he would have to coax you to handle him with something other than tenderness in the mix. Your grip on his wrist was enough to bruise any other human, but the strength you’d projected was enough to stun the vampire out of pure shock.
The once tense and chaotic air calmed as the two of you stood in silence, you waiting for him to calm down and get he was waiting on you to yell at him, attempt to hit him, hurt him for the destruction and his outburst. His temper was unruly, unpredictable like the weather sometimes, but he'd never flared up in front of you in such a way.
But instead of harsh words or screams back in his face after all he said and done – most you could barely understand – you'd slowly shifted your hands. Moving from holding his wrist, up his arms and shoulders and to his face, cupping it gently, while the same concerned look lingered in your loving gaze. “Les…speak to me. Here I was, worried sick about you for weeks on end, and now you come here? Covered in blood and yellin who knows what?”
You did not scold him or respond with hatred. You spoke in a soft tone he almost didn’t recognize, as if trying to coax a scared and wounded animal.
He didn't respond, instead staring at you with mild confusion. Why were you treating him so kindly, even as he looked and acted as if he was two seconds away from ripping your throat out and tearing apart your innards.
Lestats' form looked disheveled, his blood coated dress shirt now somewhat torn, the collar ripped and stretched down, exposing the skin on his right shoulder and arm as the cloth dangled pitifully. A mess he was and yet you held him so gently, spoke to him so kindly, so sickeningly sweet in his eyes.
Your foreheads touched as you leaned in, noses brushing as you claimed his attention yet again, seeing the dazed expression, almost as if he couldn't believe what was happening. You knew the blood on him was from upstairs, that your guest was most likely dead from the bloody footsteps that lead down the main room.
Suddenly his lips lifted in a snarl. “You smell of him, that drunkard—”
“I helped him for the night. Was bein’ kind and all. We had a drink, but I didn't feel anything for him Les.” It was your turn to interrupt him, thumb brushing against his cheekbone as blood stuck to your own palms. You could tell that he was angry, possessive even, but you'd never seen it to this existent. Only then, after holding him for so long did you realize his face was ice cold, blood on his mouth but his body void of warmth.
“Did you not feed on him Les? You're colder than a bare ass in winter.”
Even that seemed to keep him shocked, how you noticed the little things, that the warmth of fresh blood did not flow through him. Only you would pick up such minute details at that moment, only you paid him that much attention. “I cared not for his putrid blood.” He muttered, your gaze holding his own as he wished to look away. He wasn't embarrassed, but it seemed as if he was almost flustered, confused even as his brows pinched.
“You haven't changed much. Still the magnificent…unpredictable Lestat.” You knew now why his anger flared up, the sudden appearance and unprecedented feelings. He didn't like the idea of someone else in your bed, someone who seemed to resemble him – even though you didn't see the two looking any more similar than a black and a white horse. “Lovely, I wasn't gonna lay with him if that's what ya’ think. He wasn't my type anyways,” you attempted to laugh, though it came out as more of a sad half winded chuckle.
“I apparently only have space in my heart for the man who always laughs at my jokes…no matter how bad they are.” Your own gaze lingered towards his stained lips before glancing back up. “For the French man who came to me at the bar, listening to me yap up a storm. Who lied with me in the field and gave me hope for a future…one I thought I would never be worthy of, just as I feel unworthy of the love that man gives me and shows…" As corny as you normally were, this was something you wanted the vampire to understand. That as a human, fragile being that could be killed by his hands, you still loved him. Even now. Even as you tried to forget about him, to think of him as nothing but a dream for as long as he was gone, your heart yearned for him dearly.
As those last words tumbled from your mouth, your lips crashed into each other. It would be humorous to say that sparks flew, but there was a sudden fire that seemed to flare inside of you. It was bound to the both of you, the further in you two got, the hotter and brighter that flame got until it was a raging inferno. The kiss went from being one of longing to a much sloppier, needy entanglement. The metallic taste didn’t bother you, barely phasing you. Your hands went from cradling his face to holding him, threading through his hair and one lowering to his waist to keep his body close. In retaliation, Lestat held your own face, the sticky blood smearing onto the side of his face. You didn’t dare pull away as you felt the nips at your bottom lip, his tongue wrestling with your as your lungs were slowly deprived of oxygen. You mumbled his name against his lips, subtly pulling away to find air, but Lestat refused to let you. He almost let out a possessive growl that rumbled in his chest, almost unnoticeably as he didn’t need air and wanted to soak you up in every way, shape, and form.
By the time you’d been let go, he barely let you move away, foreheads touching yet again as your lungs did their best to regain what was lost. You were panting and lightheaded, a thin string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his, swept away with his tongue. There were no words shared at that moment, lost in each other's loving gazes as your hearts were racing, thundering like wild horses and unruly storms. There was a twister of emotions swirling within the both of you, and yet you simply couldn’t put them into words.
Your lips pressed against his briefly, only to start peppering kisses onto his skin. Against the side of his lips and down his jaw, against his bloody throat, down to his collar and shoulder. You left a trail, admiring him, pampering him, spoiling him with your love and adoration like you normally did. Something you never strayed from. Your kisses kept, from his shoulder down his exposed arm, all the way down to his blooded knuckles in which you pressed your lips to as if he was royalty. “Les,” you muttered against his hand, watching as he seemed to shudder.
The look in your eyes had shifted to something more, a desire, a hunger. He could feel your sudden desire, blazing like the fire that roared within you.
You both wanted each other, needed each other.
Bad.
“Lestat–” The vampire in question hushed you with his finger, tilting you chin before pressing a kiss against your lips yet again. When he pulled away, he practically purred out.
“One moment mon chéri..” His voice was barely above a whisper as you chased after his lips, whining as he slipped away from your hold and moved up the stairs. When he was suddenly out of sight, you were left standing alone and wishing for him to come back in your arms, but you would be patient, just one last time. But now that you were here, you were like an excited puppy who’d just been told to sit.
“Course he done got me all riled up, then just…” You gestured towards the stairs as you spoke to yourself, sighing and wiping the blood away from your mouth with the back of your hand. You could only imagine the mess in the room if Lestat had dealt with Viktor. The amount of blood and the fact that he didn’t drink from him was rare, to say he had a distaste for someone's blood when you knew he fed upon others and sapped their life away as easy as a snap of your fingers. And yet he was careful every time he drank from you. Tender, making sure you didn’t pass out or lose consciousness, listening to your heart rate and showing much restraint to not be as greedy as he wanted with you.
Even he knew that if you egged him on, it would be that much harder to contain himself. Fortunately you didn’t have to wait long before your name was called, which caused you to scurry up the stairs so fast that you almost face planted by the time you got to the top, grabbing onto the railing before turning into your room.
It wasn’t as bad as you first thought, the bed looked perfectly fine beside the covers being pulled here and there, but you could see the blood seeping through the carpet on the opposite side of the bed. It was only then that you heard a small whistle, looking over towards the side where the bathroom was. Lestat stood in the doorway, shirtless, the blood on his face and down his neck having been rinsed and wiped off, beside the obvious smudges still left on his skin. Though there was one thing that stood out rather boldly against his skin.
Perfectly painted onto his lips was a rather glossy – oily even – rich scarlet color that popped in comparison to his pale skin.
Not blood.
No.
Lipstick.
He chuckled as he watched your head tilt to the side rather curiously, thankful that he couldn’t feel the heat that traveled to your face. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you mon chéri,” Lestat started as he slowly made his way over to you, almost as if he was prowling. Before you knew it, he’d pushed you back onto the bed, straddling your lap with your face now in his hands. You melted at the feeling, almost as touch starved as he was for you. Your hands now placed on his own waist you pulled him closer, both of your bodies buzzing with a newfound arousal.
Lestat leaned closer to your face once more, head tilting as he captured your lips once more. A hum escaped you as you could taste him yet again, letting out an audible groan as your groins rolled into one another. You wanted him badly. You were smitten with the man, his voice, his touch, the need to have him in your arms and in your bed, it was a greed you wanted to give into.
Another whine left you as his lips left your own, moving to kiss the corner of your mouth and then your cheek. Your jaw was next, his lips pressing against every inch or your jawline and even underneath. He’d kissed down your throat as you tilted your head up, exposing more of yourself to him as he continued his path. Lestat had to stop himself from wanting to prick your throat. He could hear the blood just below your skin, feeling the heat it gave off as it ran, how good it would taste after straying away for so long.
You couldn’t control the moan that left your lips as he showered your throat in almost endless kisses, down your collar and against the crooks of your neck. By the time he’d finished and met with your dazed face again, he seemed very proud of his work.
As your half lidded eyes glanced down at Lestats face, you could see him practically glowing, as radiant as ever, even with the smudged lipstick on his lips.
Though it was your appearance that seemed to get him even more eager to take what was his.
In a flash, you two were on each other, magnetized as your hands groped and felt against one another. Clothes were ripped off, shredded, torn, thrown in this direction and another, but neither of you cared for the mess. You only cared for each other, like you were the only two left in the world. Rolling around on the bed, you ended up locking your arms under Lestat, keeping him in place as you leaned down and assaulted his throat, marking him up the best you could.
You knew he liked it rough, but it was hard to do so when you practically worshiped him. It wasn’t an act, did. But you missed him like the stars and the moon and you wanted him to know that deep down. That you loved him, whether he reciprocated or not. You wanted to be selfish, keep him in your arms forever. And as selfish as it was for you, you only hoped that he wanted the same, even as you were weaker than the vampire himself.
The guttural noises left Lestat as you bit down near the crook of his neck, hands slipping down to his bare thighs as it hooked onto your hips. His head was thrown back into the pillow that rested under his head, blonde hair sprawled out behind his head as he called your name once more, feeling as needy as ever. “Don’t tease me mon chéri, I’ve been too long without you…”
Grunting out, you felt his fingers against the back of your head as you proceeded to leave marks against his throat, hickies and dark bruises, but not deep enough to break or to draw blood like you wished. When you pulled away to look at your work, his hand caressed the side of your face and he watched as you leaned into the feeling pressing your lips against the side of his palm before looking down at him with a sense of yearning. A longing that’s been stirring inside you since the first week you missed him.
“Normally you are the chatterbox instead mon garçon de la campagne. Why the sudden silence?” Even after the intrusion, outburst and overall assault that happened not too long ago, he enjoyed your voice. How you praised him and cared for him so. It was unorthodox that you weren’t speaking, even now. Not to say that he didn’t like your brutish noises as you indulged yourself, but it was one of the qualities that made him attracted to you.
It wasn’t until that statement did you look Lestat dead in the eyes and spoke. “Doll face, I love you to the ends of the world and back, but right now I just want to hear you scream my name.” That seemed to stun the blonde once again. “And I got better uses for ma’ mouth right now. Not enough time to talk.” Your voice shifted towards a lower town as you dipped down to assault Lestat's chest, one of your favorite places to spoil.
As the vampire's voice rang within the room, his back arching off the bed as you did your best to mark up his chest in bite marks of all sorts. You found great joy in seeing his body react in such a way as your mouth enveloped one of his nipples, tracing your tongue around the sensitive nub before using the edge of your teeth to tug, his body pressing up against yours and nearly lifting off the bed itself.
But Lestat wanted more. He’d been away for too long and was tired of the foreplay. “I…I am not a virgin,” he panted out. “I can handle myself just fine.”
“Let me treat ya’ like it anyways baby doll…”
And as his eyes rolled to the back of head, your mouth loved on and against every part of his body, your fingers finding spots that made his body curl and mewl in weakness as he wanted more. The slow and tender you fed him lit his entire body up in the best way imaginable, his voice loud enough for anyone in the quarter to hear.
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Your back ached as you sat up from the bed, the stinging sensation of Lestat’s nails running down skin lingered even hours after wearing him down the best you could. The beauty in question rested right beside you, curled up in the sheet and his head nuzzled up against your side.
You knew that he wasn’t asleep, but simply closed his eyes to briefly rest. He’d have to return home soon, to rest inside his coffin and to dispose of the body that was unfortunately still slumped against the side of the bed. In the heat of things, you barely cared that there was a dead person mere feet away from you as Lestat was the only thing in your mind through the night. As you made your way off the bed and into the bathroom, your lower waist was just as roughed up from the rather crushing gripped Lestat had with his legs clinging onto you with such force.
You could barely remember how many times you made him cum that night, but it was enough that your own hips were starting to bruise. His voice calling out your own was like a symphony of its own, causing a cheeky smile to appear on your lips. By the time you’d gotten into the bathroom and stepped in front of the mirror, you were shocked. On not only your lips but splayed all over your cheek, neck, and even covering the majority of your collarbone was lipstick stains from Lestat.
It hadn’t registered back then how much he’d done, but now it was clear as day, he marked you. You could remember him muttering how he would erase any trace of that drunk businessman, especially if there were any traces of him on you. Your neck itself was sensitive as all getup, especially after Lestat fed off you that night. No wonder you felt light headed and weak on your feet. “God, I hope this can wash off,” you muttered to yourself, though you weren’t opposed to the idea of Lestat doing this more often.
“I doubt it will…” Lestat stepped in behind you in all his nude glory before hugging against your waist and placing his chin against your shoulder. “And if it does…I’ll do much worse than this.” A grin appeared on his face as his looked at you through the mirror, watching as you replicated the same grin. For the moment, the two of you stayed there, swaying in one another arms before the vampire spoke up. “I..I am cursed with my maker's temper…I meant no harm. I saw that man in your bed when I came to surprise you and–”
“No need for an apology Les…I missed you too.” Turning your head, you kissed against his hair before sighing. “You were gone for so long..thought you’d up and left. Wasn’t gonna bother you no way if you didn’t wanna see me.”
Lestat stared at you in silence for the longest before shifting his gaze elsewhere. “I have a good reason for why I was gone. I did not merely abandon you…but there is someone I have to speak with you about.”
“Who?” There was only one other person that you could think of at the top of your head, especially with the series of events that had happened in the past.
“Louis…”
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a/n : who let me cook?? Anyways, thank you for reading so far! Replies and repost are appreciated! Thank you for reading!
please do not repost my work on other sites! thank you! - @that-one-malereader-enthusiast
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i know that he's all about being in control, having authority over a whole room of people. always being perfect. number one. king of the castle.
you change that.
under all the bravado there is a vulnerable part of him that desperately wants to let go. relax. jesus, take the wheel. Well lucky for him, you're his jesus. it happens at your house as he discreetly travels over, unseen by every single person that passes him. you let him in, offer some tea, the usual courtesies; and he makes sure he's well fed beforehand.
he can bitch about his problems and complain just to get it off his chest, but in a couple minutes he's eye-fucking you and slowly walking to your room. you follow.
before he can register every moment that happens he's on his stomach, and two of your fingers are scissoring him out, cock trapped between his stomach and the bedsheets, angry, leaking, flushed.
"Putain- cherie, c'est bon", he encourages, "So good, so good to me". his hips start rocking gently to the motion of your fingers inside of him, chasing bursts of friction that run through his dick.
before he can relax he can feel the upward curve of your fingers, that brushes the bundles of nerves ever so slightly, but even that has his hips jerking, breath stuttering through a whimper.
"there we go", he hears your low tone, a hand holding his hip steady. it strengthens and tightens where you grab him, since your fingers curl to prod harder at his prostate. he achingly groans, fucking himself back onto you.
"more, baby, please—oui", he manages through gasps and sighs, and you smile down at him. arched back, whorishly small waist, looking back at you, trying to bite his lip closed.
"if you want more, sweetheart, imma need you to let me hear you. Don't hold back those sounds from me, yeah?" He nods, "Oui madame, rien-"
just as you speed up, a hand coming down on his ass.
he gasps and lets out a noise he's never made before. the fastest he's ever came in his 265 years of living. You coo at him,
cw : MDNI - ftm Lestat, top male reader, sexual content, nsfw, lycanthrope male reader, oral (giving), AFAB terminology used (such as cunt, clit, ect.) monsterfuckers, mentions of knotting, praises, dry humping, slight service top moment, baby fever, breeding kink, not proof-read.
If vampires could exist, why couldn't werewolves, Lestat thought. When he found you, it was as if looking at a lost dog. Scrappy thing, but brutish. You had no manners, like a mutt out of the ditch. The two of you never met eye to eye, but he helped you deal with the monster that you had almost no control over. What he loved about you is that you took answers from no one. You took what you wanted, when you wanted it. And if you wanted Lestat on the bed with his legs spread, he could barely stop you.
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"You're making a mess down there mon cher, you're dr..drooling all over my legs!" Lestat laughed as you huffed and looked up at him from between his legs. There was slick and saliva dripping down your chin and painted messily on your lips, smeared against your cheeks and dripping down your neck. Your half lidded eyes were hazed with lust, trying to bide your irritation and hunger with the meal between the others legs. "Use your words, those looks could mean anything. You either want me to...shut up so you can continue indulging yourself or—" Lestat almost snorted as you responded with simply curling your arms around his thighs, letting them settle on your shoulders as you 'indulged' as he seemed to speak of.
Your thick tongue practically slobbered against his thighs, nipping every now and then while your leg bounced. You wanted so much more at that moment, but you were trying to wait it out. You were itching to get out of your skin, the presence of the full moon only pressuring your body further. You could feel the itch deep within the marrow of your bones, calling out. It makes your body feel like a furnace, your core even hotter. You could feel your hips rolling into the mattress below as you whined into Lestats' heat, causing him to shudder in response.
"You're such a needy chiot when you wish to be one. I don't know why you restrain yourself so much when I know what goes on in that head of yours." Lestat almost mewled out at the end of his words as your tongue practically circled around his dick, lips suckling against it and sending fire into his own nerves. "Juste là, ma chère, you're so good to me..." He let out an airy breath as his fingers slid into your hair. No matter how many times you cut it, it practically grew longer the next day. But Lestat? He loved running his fingers through your hair and watching you act as if you were touch starved. No, you were touch starved. Leaning into his touch, silently asking for more.
Lestat was the first person, first being, creature — the first to be able to handle your unruliness these nights. When you weren't prowling the streets, out for blood, killing every animal that came into your line of sight and even people if they had the unfortunate timing of appearing in your sights.
You were practically nose deep in Lestats' rather trimmed and neat blonde pubes while your tongue wanted to lap up every inch of his spongy insides. You could barely think straight, heat now radiating off your skin and your mind slowly fogging while Lestat made obscene noises that made your ears prick up. "Need you..Les..."
"You have me mon cher chiot, you..you have me," he shuddered out again before feeling your nails start to dig into his thighs. An animalist whine and whimper left your lips before you could feel the curse starting to carve you from the inside out. Cooking your insides, broiling in your stomach while it broke and wielded your bones back together. It wasn't pretty, it never was. But Lestat was there for it all, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
You let go of him and gripped onto the sheets, finding yourself wanting to curl up and hide from the pain. You could hear his coaxing in the forefront of your mind, trying to tell you he was still there, but lines blurred when you transformed. Your bones snapped and your flesh seemed to tear as fur came in replacement, your bones shifting into place as a deep growl rolled within your chest. The moonlight seemed to peer in through the window, your once normal eyes giving an eerie glow in the darkness, your face no longer humanoid, but instead replaced with a furry snout.
There was blood in your fur, almost coating some, bleeding into the mattress but the other didn't care and neither did you. Your clothes had long since been shed off since the beginning of the transformation, now scattered and torn into pieces.
You shook your head, thoughts jumbled in a bunch. Food. Hunt. Hunger. Prey. Hunger. Mate. Hot. Mark. Mate. Mine. You seemed to stare Lestat down, as if he were a meal of his own, your mawl filling with drool as your now semi bipedal body crouched over him, absolutely looming over his body. "I know you can hear me in there mon cher chiot." Lestat seemed to call out, his core finding more warmth seeing you in such a form.
You growled at him at first, though your eyes seemed to quickly glance down his body. Hungry. Mate. Breed. Mate. Hunger. Hunt. Prey. My mate. You weren't completely dumbed down, but the scent of Lestats' arousal seemed to set you off. It wasn't long before you practically dragged his body down, lifting his entire lower half off the bed before your maw opened.
Lestat didn't fear you'd eat him or even harm him, but he could see much more happening. When you got like this, it was hard to stop you from completely destroying the room trying to fuck him on every surface, especially since you didn't burn out easily during such a moon tranced state.
He could feel your teeth against his pelvis, only putting some pressure down as your tongue took a long lap against his lower lips. Pulling away, you grabbed his thighs and raised them on your shoulders, his entire upper body almost lifted off the bed from the shift of your height.
Lestat cried out and threw his head back the moment he felt your tongue dive into his drenched cunt yet again, reaching places you couldn't quite reach before and more. He could see your unsheathed and throbbing red cock underneath your own body, dripping with arousal and your knot having already appeared. "I suppose I should have fed earlier tonight if I knew I was going to be in here with you till daylight—"
There was a growl, a deep one that sent vibrations deep within Lestat, causing him to find a rather quick orgasm that startled even himself. "I guess this form also does things to me as well mon cher chiot, but it seems your mind is elsewhere." Instead of a response, you simply lapped at his wetness, hips rutting up against the sheets and your mind elsewhere. You wanted to breed him, badly. Make him full of your pups. What you wouldn't give to see Lestat, your Lestat, full and round and plump. Putting him down on your knot, making him yours completely? You began to drool at the thought that ran circles inside your mind.
Maybe you could fill him up tonight after you made him cum on your tongue. Your hunger was only for Lestat tonight, nothing more.
It was better than you constantly having held his hips and grinded up against him with any and every surface, whining and making small grunts rather than communicating with your words what you really wanted. It wasn't your fault that his ass always looked so nice in whatever he wore. Such a nice, grabable ass. All yours for the night.
cw : MDNI - sub Lestat, top male reader, nsfw, hate fucking, hate sex, love hate relationship, toxic relationship, masochist, sadist tendencies, monsterfucker, lycanthrope, primal play, blood play, asphyxiation, dacryphilia, rearranging his guts, mentions of breeding, knotting, tummy bulge, overstimulation, creampie, size diff, Lestat being a brat, you're so sick of his shit, lil wolfy delulu at the end, not proof-read.
Thinking about how tired you are of this prestigious and pampered vampire always getting the best of you. He's a pompous fuck in your eyes, he doesn't care about anyone but himself and whatever he claims his. A hypocrite, a blonde narcissist, and a huge pain in your ass.
He always gets off easy, yet your blood boils around him. How he toys with your feelings, your thoughts, your body. You can't help but to get mad, to let anger fuel you. To let that hatred that seeped into your bones out and onto him. You aren't his plaything, he's yours.
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"Ah! Mmh—merde! You are...so—so brutal when you're upset!~" Back now arched off the wall, Lestats' body quivered and shook with each grounding thrust of your hips slamming up into him, your girth striking against his prostate with such precision that his eyes began to roll back. His drool soaked lips let slip out various French curses while your nails dug into his small and slimmed waist.
You didn't reply, not wanting to feed into his game of words while your fingers pressed bruising pressure onto his skin, nails making crescent shapes and tearing through the flesh of his waist. You wanted him to feel pain, wanted him to feel your rage in whatever way you could, even if it meant slamming him into a wall and choking him halfway to unconsciousness — even though you knew full well how he got off to such treatment.
"My chiot doux, you—bring me such joy when you come to me like this, do you — ah!~ Do you know that?~" He was egging you in, watching the threatening glow of your eyes and the sneer on your lips. He could hear your heart pounding within your chest like a war drum, your body burning as hot as a furnace as you grounded your hips into the vampire. It was only then that you'd gotten tired of his incessant yapping.
"Shut up Lestat! You know the shit...you pulled! Fucking me over time...and time...again!" You knew full well that there would be blackened bruises to adorn your groin tomorrow, but that was the least of your concerns. Hearing the wet squelches of each thrust and the powerful slaps of skin hitting skin left the others thighs and ass taunt.
"And yet!" He cried out, bloody tears starting to flow down the sides of his face as your thrust only got harsher, his insides clenching around your cock as it throbbed and rammed into all the spots he couldn't reach with his own fingers. "You come to me! Angry!~ So much anger that you don't know what to do with it—ah! Ah, ah!~"
Pulling your hips back to where you were just barely on the brink of pulling completely out, you slammed straight into him with every word that came out of your mouth. Your hand went up to his throat, body practically vibrating as you could feel the heat roll off of your skin in waves. "Fuck—you—Lestat!"
A choked noise left his body as his own saliva slid down his chin and throat, but even while in such a compromised and humiliating position, he couldn't help but to be spiteful one last time. "It seem—you're already doing the fucking, oui?~"
All you could see was red, the pain that flared throughout your body was completely overshadowed by the overwhelming hatred you felt for the vampire. You'd barely noticed that he'd come twice over, decorating both your stomachs as you pressed closer against his body.
Your bones broke with horrific snaps and fused together in new placements as your muscles throbbed and flexed. Your human flesh seemed to peel off as fur seemed to burst through, causing you to let out a deep growl before using your other hand to rip off the wet and bloodied pieces of skin. Whatever clothes you had left on your body were no more, having shredded and fallen to the floor without much care.
The burning, lava-like feeling of your transformation was nothing in comparison to the hot rage you had for the blonde in front of you.
You could hear him blabber on about the real you finally making an appearance, his plush insides practically milking your now much larger girth as your flared tip brushed far past his prostate.
Your body now looked over his in comparison, his small body dwarfed in comparison to your own. Your clawed hands engulfed his waist entirely, all while your bloodied snout buried itself against the crook of his neck. Taking in his scent, the one you hated so much, the one you kept coming back to like a drug — now flared in your senses.
"Mon chiot chéri," he started, only to cry out as your teeth sunk into his suppel flesh. Your maw practically covered the entirety of his shoulder as throat, biting down hard enough that he bled heavily in that moment, but his response was a gutteral moan that made him feel as though he was in the most heavenly experience of his immortal life. His hands reached up to grip upon your still slick and blood soaked fur before panting out. "—love me the only way...you know how~"
Lestats' eyes rolled back into his skull as you used him for your own personal pleasure, holding him as you would a simple toy. He was being held up only by your red leaking cock that bumped into his tummy with every thrust of your hips. He could just barely hear the wagging of your tail as it swept the air so harshly.
You watched in morbid fascination as his stomach seemed to bulge, covered in his own spend as you leaned down and let your tongue drag up his body. The taste of him made your hips rut that much faster, your ears twitching and flicking with every filthy noise that came from him. A low growl hovered within your chest as you lapped up his throat and chin, only to find your tongue exploring his mouth.
He was salivating, uncaring of how fucked he looked under you or how rough you were with his body. You wouldn't stop until you were satisfied, he knew all too well how nights like this ended.
It was only then that he gasped on your tongue that tried to dip into his throat, feeling your bulbous knot proceed to slap against his ass. He knew that his ass would be stretched to its limits, but you didn't care about how he felt.
"Wait—wait!~ Mon chiot—chéri, it will not fit!~" His slurred and half audible whines and pleas went deaf to your ears and only made your cock throb at the idea of filling up your Lestat.
His back continued to arch in the air as his head hung back, his slick hole now being stretched carelessly around your swollen knot that pressed further and further until he'd sucked you in completely. You two were now bound to the base of your cock, and you were yet to be done with him, even as he felt your warmth spilling out into him.
At this point in time,you were practically humping him, holding him up and watching his stomach bulge just that much more. His body shaking and his voice breaking as he tried to claw at your furry hands. Bloody tears continued to run down his face as he babbled on, though you licked them away with your tongue leaving a trail of your saliva and marking him with your scent.
Even as you seemed to hate him, your wolf loved to see him pierced on your cock like this, begging for a break as his body was being handled in such a way. He had no control, and you'd make sure the situation stayed as such until you felt better.
You could feel your cum dripping out from him, leading to an almost territorial growl while leaning over his body, now giving him the pleasantry of having his body on the bed rather than hovering in the air with your hands holding his middle.
He was your bitch to breed tonight. Watching him seem so broken down and helpless made your tail wag even more as you flipped his body, all while keeping him on your knot. The obscene noise he made only made you want him more, to keep him like this even with the risk of morning hours away. Your voice came in a broken growl that somehow made its way into his static filled brain. "My LeStat~"
"Mon cher, I can't— I can't...take anymore...I am full, I can't possibly take much else~" Lines blurred between whether was teasing or simply begging, but you couldn't care less.
You cared more about how much you could pump into him before he looked pregnant with your pups. Wouldn't that be a sight to behold.
i am of the firm belief that lestat is actually so submissive that she will be dominant if that's what her partner desires ^_^ service sub lestat forever & ever <3
literally lestat, at his core, is a sub. doesn't mean he has to specifically bottom, sometimes he does, but it's in the core desires of his sexual encounters. sometimes it might be noticeable, sometimes very subtle. even though he is cocky and playful in nature, will his eye-fucking and initiating contact and flirting with his words and touches, it's somewhat of a facade. what is displayed is more of "i wanna have sex with you so bad, take you apart with touches, let me explore you", but what it really means at its core is "i'm so desperate to be intimate with you, please feed into my persuasion because i'm in heat".
now don't get me wrong, there's a spectrum of submission. and as stupid as it sounds, there are certain submissive behaviours that are a little dominant. for example, what you said about service sub. exaaaaactly. he might be the one doing the topping/penetrating, but there is still submission in his devotion to give you pleasure. that could be displayed in multiple different ways. for example:
(1) you may be on your back receiving, but you could be saying to him "keep looking at me, don't break eye-contact while you fuck me". in which he obeys, sometimes with a witty remark if he feels like it. he is, again, bratty in nature, you will let him get away with it a little bit.
(2) you would be riding him. so his position is under you which can be seen as submissive. even more so since you control your own movement, and the pace in which you go at. another thing would be where is hands are; if they're gripping your hips, going up to play with your nipples, or down to rub on your clit. OR, you would order him to keep his hands to himself; up above him, tied, or gripping the sheets either side of him etc. "no touching, lestat. just watch".
anyways yes idk where im going with this as usual, but of course he does switch between topping and bottoming. but whichever he is in the moment, he's mostly fuelled by servicing you and pleasuring.
