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It’s not that Louis doesn’t like the job he has now.
It pays well enough. Louis can afford his studio apartment with relative ease as long as he keeps his DoorDash habit under control and doesn’t spend too much on drinks when he goes out with his friends. But it’s also so small that he has to move push his bed against the wall every time he has dinner so he can unfold his little table.
It’s not a bad situation to be in; he knows there are much worse conditions to have. But he can’t even buy his books brand new, much less jet off on holiday any time he wants or buy any of the designer clothes he’s bookmarked on his phone.
The work isn’t really hard either. Louis likes working being a receptionist. All he has to do is smile and take calls and pretend to be interested in prospective clients when they hang out at his desk, and between those tasks he can read as much as he wants or play Stardew Valley on his desktop computer or text his friends.
It’s all fine. When his mother calls him and asks about how his work is, all he says is that it’s fine. Because what else can he say? It’s what he imagines purgatory might look like — an existence that is slowly going toward something undefinable and not very exciting, with just enough to keep him alive and do little else.
He doesn’t really have an idea of what he’d like to do instead. All he knows is that he wants more.
He’s had enough of working just for all this…nothingness. On the rare occasion he still opens Instagram, he sometimes looks at the pictures his high school classmate posts of her life living in a van with her boyfriend. It looks kind of miserable, to be honest, but she certainly seems happy. Louis might have four walls and a roof over his head, but it’s also not that much more. And maybe there’s something to be said about her freedom, about her choice to take her life into her own hands.
At the end of the day, that’s what he wants.
He wants to do something, get ahead of the curve now, while he’s still young and able to enjoy his life. He doesn’t want to work forty hours a week anymore and do fine for all that effort. He doesn’t want to turn 60 and only then have the time and money to do anything he wants.
And he thinks he knows how he’s going to get what he wants.
The answer has been in front of him this whole time, just hovering around the edge of his eyesight, never too far away from him.
Louis doesn’t know much about life, but he’s always thought that Lestat might have been born to do anything he set his mind to, so it’s always a little funny, always a little odd, that Lestat works in consulting. And it’s not that he’s bad at it. The exact opposite, in fact. But Louis also thinks he would probably be good at anything.
“What do you imagine I should do instead?” Lestat asks him with a laugh when Louis lets it slip that he thinks it’s odd Lestat works in an office.
“I don’t know.” Louis laughs too. “Something with a lot more drama.”
He’s smart and magnetic and so intensely charismatic and quick on his feet that any room he walks into always seems to narrow and swell around his very presence. He’s insanely handsome, has the kind of body Louis isn’t sure how a person even gets without winning the genetic lottery, and his voice is deep and rough and gently accented, and just.
Ugh.
So Louis might have a crush. But a crush on Lestat was practically a rite of passage for anyone who worked here. Louis wasn’t special in that regard. And he didn’t usually like men like Lestat, especially not the white European variety, but there was something disarming about him that Louis couldn’t put his finger on.
Granted, most people grew out of that crush once Lestat started speaking to them in that arrogant, condescending tone he used on everyone.
And it might have just stayed a crush, something harmless for Louis to think about to pass the time at work, if it wasn’t for the fact that Lestat never talked to him the way he spoke to everyone else.
He always takes the time in the morning to stop by Louis’s desk, say good morning, smile at him, ask him about his week, ask him about what book he was reading or what movie he’d seen lately. He had spent some time in New Orleans when he first came to America, so he likes to ask about Louis’s childhood, what he misses most about home, and he always laughs at Louis’s (admittedly) bad impressions of their clients and the other people in the office.
He’s Louis’s boss, but only in the way he’s everyone’s boss by virtue of being in the position he’s in. And it’s not like Lestat actually oversees any of his work, so Louis doesn’t think it’s creepy or anything that he takes such an interest in him.
That alone might not mean much, but there were other things, too. Things that, when he it added up in his head, painted a pretty clear picture.
The way Lestat looks at him. His appreciative looks that are always edged with something harder, something Louis instinctively knows is dangerous. Compliments that slip off Lestat’s tongue come too fast and easy, always accompanied by a heated look across Louis’s mouth, his neck, his body, like Lestat can’t help himself.
The way his eyes darken every time Louis calls him sir, which he sometimes does instinctively, and other times with some uncontrollable urge to want to poke at the bear. Louis used to call him Mr. Lioncourt, but then one afternoon before he left, he’d leaned in and said quietly, “As much as I enjoy hearing it from your mouth, I think I’d like it much more to hear you use my given name. And I think people may start to notice that you’re the only one who calls me anything else.”
It was the first suggestion of their connection, the first time Lestat ever alluded to there being anything to notice.
Lestat is technically married. Louis says technically because he doesn’t know of any happily married man who spends as much time as Lestat does watching Louis’s ass. Louis has seen his wife before, glimpses of a slim blonde woman who sometimes, though increasingly rarely, visits Lestat. Sometimes she forgets the extension to his office phone and Louis has to redirect her. Louis isn’t particularly impressed by anything he’s seen from her; he thinks him and Lestat would look better together anyway.
And Lestat definitely seems to prefer his company.
He always asks for Louis whenever an extra pair of hands is needed, even when Louis knows he’s not the best option for the work. It could be the act of someone who wants to mentor Louis, who’s looking out for him, except he spends too much watching him, talking to him every chance he gets, making him laugh.
And, lately, things have been escalating.
Lestat has been asking him to stay behind a lot under the pretense of needing some help with some random tasks. And he pretends to at least give Louis something to do for the first half hour, asking him to print things or make photocopies. But before long, he’s telling Louis to sit down with him, putting some music on for them to listen to or continuing a conversation they had in the morning.
“You don’t have a boyfriend, Louis?” Lestat asked him the first time they stayed late. “No one waiting for you at home?”
“No, I don’t really do boyfriends.”
Lestat raised an intrigued eyebrow. “No?”
“I’m picky.” Louis told him, matter-of-fact. “Haven’t found anyone I liked enough.”
Lestat’s eyes darkened like Louis’s had said something particularly erotic.
Spending time with Lestat is more energizing, more exciting, than any date Louis has been on in his life, but what Louis looks forward to the most is sitting in the car with Lestat when he drives Louis home.
There’s something about the darkness of the car that always makes Lestat a little more brazen. It always starts with a casual hand on Louis’s thigh when they wait for a red light to turn green. But soon enough, he’s massaging Louis’s leg throughout the entire drive, his big hand almost completely wrapping around Louis’s thigh. Louis pretends it’s nothing out of the ordinary, like he can’t feel the big hand creeping higher on his leg, squeezing, softly pinching the fat of his thigh.
He likes the game of it all. Pretending like he doesn’t know what’s happening while his boss gropes and fondles him.
But a plan has been forming in Louis’s mind since the first time. He doesn’t want to have to play forever, and he has a feeling that if he lets his chance go by without doing anything, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.
It’s time to take his life into his own hands. Well. Sort of. Take something into his own hands, at the very least.
He figures his best shot will be at the office party they put on after Lestat and his team close on a big deal for some retail chain. Louis doesn’t really understand why companies spend money only to be told to spend less, but he’s happy for Lestat and for the opportunity it gives him.
It’s when he thinks Lestat is likely too tired to have his guard completely up. Louis doesn’t think Lestat is capable of rejecting him, but just in case some pesky marital loyalty rears its head, Louis wants to have the upper hand.
Louis waits until the office starts clearing out at midnight before he heads over to Lestat’s office. He kept his distance from him tonight, talking to other people, ignoring the way Lestat’s gaze was burning a hole into the side of his face.
“He’s in a terrible mood.” One of the assistants tells him on the way out when Louis casually asks who else is here. “Be careful.”
Lestat is in his office leaning back against the leather couch they like to sit on, his tie loose, and when he looks up and sees Louis his gaze is left unguarded for the quickest moment, and Louis can see all the lust there, the desire he has for him.
Louis closes the door behind him. “I wanted to check on you, sir.”
Lestat’s face is impassive, a small tic in his cheek. “You did?”
“Josh said you weren’t feeling great. I brought you some water.” Louis adds, giving the cold bottle of water he snagged a little shake.
Lestat softens the slightest bit.
“Thank you, Louis.” Lestat reaches out to pat Louis’s hips in thanks, but his hand lingers on Louis’s hip before it turns into a proper hold, his fingers curled around his hip.
“Did you have a good time tonight?”
Louis shrugs, smiling. “It was okay.”
“I didn’t see much of you.” Lestat’s hand slides down the side of Louis’s thigh, palm grazing across the fabric of his trousers, looking for an excuse to touch. “Is this new?”
Louis shakes his head no, throat tight with anticipation. Seduction is turning out to be a lot harder than he thought it would be with the way it gets harder to think the longer he spends in Lestat’s company.
“It looks good on you.” Lestat tells him. “I like it.”
Louis smiles, trying to look surprised by the compliment as though he hadn’t spent hours getting ready. “Thank you.”
There’s a tension in the air that feels like it might snap at any moment. Lestat’s gaze is searching on his face and he must find whatever he’s looking for because he tilts his head, “What did you come here for?”
“I wanted to see if you needed anything.” Louis says quietly, measuring his words.
“What does that mean?” Lestat challenges.
“It means…” Louis trails off, thinking. “It means I’m here for you.”
“For me.” Lestat hums. “And if I said I needed your company?”
“I can do that.” Louis answers readily.
“And if I need to see all of you?”
Louis’s breath catches. “I can do that, too.”
Lestat’s mouth opens slightly, his tongue touching the corner of his mouth. He looks awed. “Then that’s what I want: I want to see you. What I need.”
Louis flushes. He came in here prepared to do just that, but something about Lestat’s tone is making it seem more significant than he imagined it would be. He doesn’t answer with words, just keeps his eyes on Lestat’s as he reaches up to undo the buttons of his shirt.
With each piece of clothing he takes off, Lestat’s eyes grow darker and his fingers begin twitching on his lap like it’s taking everything in him not to rip everything off Louis. And Louis like that, likes the power he holds in this moment as he takes off his shirt, pulls down his pants and toes off his shoes, and then finally, with just one stabilizing deep breath, pulls down his briefs, leaving everything in a pile on Lestat’s office floor.
Lestat pulls him in with hands around his hips, guiding him to stand between his spread knees. Lestat’s hands stroke slowly down his thighs, up his stomach to his chest, gliding down his back and down to his ass.
“Oh, Louis.”
Louis swallows and stays still, letting him touch and stroke and fondle. His cock is half-hard between his legs, twitching with excitement every time Lestat’s hands go anywhere near it.
Lestat pulls him closer until Louis all but falls into his lap, arranging himself to sit on Lestat’s thighs, the wool of his trousers scratchy against his skin.
Lestat pulls him in for a kiss, and Louis’s soft inquiring swipes of his tongue immediately turn more desperate when Lestat pries his mouth open, big tongue sweeping in to taste him.
“You’re so beautiful, Louis.” Lestat breathes against his lips, his breath warm and sweet with whatever drinks he’s been sipping on all night. “So lovely. I cannot stop thinking about you.”
Louis feels a little unbalanced by the frankness in his voice. “Really? I—me too.”
Lestat strokes his thumb across Louis’s bottom lip, breath hitching when Louis lets his tongue touch it tentatively. “Have you ever seen another man’s cock, Louis?”
He has.
Louis shyly shakes his head no. Lestat’s lips twitch like he can tell Louis is lying but is willing to play along.
“I cannot imagine you haven’t had men coming after you.” His voice is silky soft. “But you’ve always been good, hmm?”
Louis doesn’t know the right answer to that, but Lestat doesn’t seem interested in one, too taken with watching the flush spread across Louis’s face.
“Get on your knees, mon cher.”
Louis goes to his knees eagerly, uncaring of the rough carpet under his knees, putting his hands on Lestat’s thighs.
He’s trying not to shiver in the cool air or cower from the wall of windows. They’re too high up for anyone to see anything, but his nipples pebble at the thought of being seen like this — completely naked on his knees in front of a fully-dressed man.
Lestat’s hands go to undo his belt and Louis takes a deep breath in, nervous and excited and desperate to please.
He knows what a cock looks like; he has one in his pants, too. But whether it’s because he’s had a few drinks or because it belongs specifically to Lestat, it makes Louis’s stomach clench.
He’d suspected it was big; hoped it was, even. But.
It’s thick and long and already so hard, the tip flushed red with blood peeking through the foreskin. Louis feels lightheaded at the thought of taking that inside his mouth, inside his body, but he doesn’t know if it’s from fear or desire or some heady combination of the two.
Lestat takes his cock in his big hand and taps the head lightly against Louis’s lips.
“Here, Louis, open your mouth. Cover your teeth.” Lestat sighs. “There, that’s good, cheri. Suck on it. You want to make me happy tonight, don’t you?”
Louis suckles on the thick tip in his mouth, whimpering at the way it stretches his mouth. It tastes nothing like his own cum that he’s tasted in curiosity, and he finds that he likes it. He likes it a lot, he thinks, sucking harder to chase the taste.
“So pretty.” Lestat murmurs, stroking his cheek. “Always looking at me with those big eyes, begging me to put you on your knees and put something in your mouth. This is what you’ve wanted?”
Louis shudders at his words, taking another inch of dick in his mouth. Saliva is pooling in his mouth, his eyes are watering, and his jaw hurts already being stretched around the thick cock in his mouth. But he doesn’t want to disappoint Lestat, and he likes the way he’s looking at him like Louis is the centre of the universe.
“Use your hands for the rest—yes, that’s it.”
Louis wraps two hands around the shaft, starting a simple rhythm that he thinks he can sustain.
Lestat head is thrown back and his neck muscles are strained, his throat bobbing with obvious effort as Louis sets himself to task, focusing his mouth on the tip, working his tongue around, jerking off what he can’t reach with his hands.
It’s more work than he’s ever put into pleasing a partner. And the slick, slurping sounds of his effort echo in the room, louder than the soft, punched-out breaths Lestat releases every time Louis curls his tongue around him.
“Fuck,” Lestat hisses, stilling Louis’s movements with a hand on his neck. “Enough. Come here.”
Louis gets to his feet shakily and climbs back onto Lestat’s lap with weak legs. “Was that good?”
“Perfect.” Lestat swears, kissing him, groaning when he tastes his pre-cum on Louis’s tongue. “I would have let you do that all night if I didn’t need to be inside you.”
Louis preens, spreading his legs wider on Lestat’s lap when Lestat strokes two slick fingers along the cleft of his ass.
“You have lube in your office?” Louis laughs, mostly to distract himself from the goosebumps breaking out across his skin at Lestat’s two fingertips rubbing at his hole. This is as far as he’s gone with another man, and while he knows that virginity is a social construct and all that, it certainly feels very real when he’s about to have a cock inside him for the first time.
Lestat kisses his neck, rubs his stubble against the sensitive skin. “I have had many, many fantasies about fingering you here. Stretching you around my hand.”
“Just some fingers tonight, then?” Louis breathes into his ear, exhaling shakily when Lestat’s two fingers push inside at once. It feels like a stretch already, and he whimpers a little at the thought that he’ll be taking so much more than that by the night’s end.
Lestat’s other hand strokes soothingly down his back as he fucks two fingers inside Louis, hard and perfect. “No.” He finally says, answering Louis’s question. He slips a third finger in, and by the slight bump Louis can feel at his rim, he’s pretty sure it’s his ring finger. Louis shivers at the thought, feeling slutty and dirty and like he’s finally alive.
“Next time,” Lestat says into his neck, laving it with kisses. “Next time, I’ll stretch your hole until you’re begging for me. But I need you now. Is that okay, Louis?”
Louis is rapidly learning he’ll apparently say yes to anything Lestat asks of him, so he nods eagerly, smashing their lips together and lets Lestat arrange him however he wants. He can feel the tip of his cock sliding between his ass cheeks, brushing against his hole before it notches right there and starts pressing inside.
“Breathe,” Lestat tells him soothingly. “Breathe, Louis. I’m already here, see? Your body knows what it wants, just let it happen.”
Louis’s trying, breathing deeply through his nose. He wants this, he reminds himself. This is what he’s wanted all this time. And he can have it. He can have all of it. Lestat moves him slowly onto his cock, patient even though Louis can hear him grinding his teeth.
It’s pressure like he’s never felt before, nothing like the toys he has at home. Relentlessly rigid and hard inside him, pushing and bullying through the inside of him. He’s being taken, he realizes dumbly, that’s why they call it that. Lestat is taking him.
Louis cries out in pleasure and relief when it’s finally all in, his ass touching the tops of Lestat’s thighs. Lestat is murmuring praise, English and French mixing together, but it feels like he’s hearing it from the next room over, his brain completely checked out, his body limp and leaning against Lestat’s chest.
When he finally recovers some minutes later, he’s being gently bounced in Lestat’s lap, the cock inside him rocking in and out. It feels good. It feels really good. And once he gets his knees under him again and pushes down, it feels incredible. He’s being fucked good and proper.
“You take my cock so well.” Lestat pants into his neck. “Can you feel me inside you?”
“Uh huh. Shit, it’s so, it’s so big.”
“Gonna break your pussy, cheri, you won’t be satisfied with any other cock after mine.”
Louis shivers and licks his lips, bouncing harder in Lestat’s lap, moaning when Lestat brushes against the spot inside him that makes black dots dance in his vision.
“There?” Lestat angles his hips and shoves Louis down again and again, hitting his prostate perfectly every time. “Is that what feels good for you?”
Louis opens his mouth to say yes and please and more, when he suddenly hears voices outside in the hallway.
He freezes. Lestat pulls back, raising an eyebrow, and then smirking when he realizes what’s made Louis stop.
“Anyone know where Louis went?” Someone asks. It’s Daniel, Louis thinks. “I swear I just saw him.”
“Man, you need to give up on that. He’s not interested in you.” The emphasis on the word makes the hairs on Louis’ neck stand.
“Where’s Lestat?” Someone else asks dryly, with a heavy tongue of irony. “That’s where Louis will be.”
The group laughs.
Louis whimpers in embarrassment, screwing up his face. Lestat shushes him gently, but there’s a smug smirk on his face when Louis pulls back.
“Shut the fuck up, man.” Daniel snaps from outside. “Don’t talk about him like that.”
The smirk on Lestat’s face slowly drops, replaced by a calculated, annoyed look.
“He likes you very much.” Lestat observes quietly.
Louis tries to shake his head, tell Lestat that Daniel is his friend, put in some kind of protest, but Lestat starts fucking up inside him again, the soft sound of their skin slapping together starting up again, and everything leaves his mind again.
Louis gasps, biting his lip to stop the sounds. “Don’t.” He whispers, desperate. “They’ll hear.”
The group is chatting idly by the cubicles just across Lestat’s office. It sounds like they’re deciding where to go next for more drinks.
“Lestat—“ Louis puts his hands on Lestat’s shoulders, trying to lift off his lap.
Lestat gathers his hands and pins his wrists to his back with one big hand, the other on Louis’s hip in a bruising grip.
It’s loud. It’s far too loud. Louis is being bounced in Lestat’s lap, unable to control the pace with Lestat’s hips thrusting up into him relentlessly, the slap-slap-slap of their skin meeting loud and conspicuous. It sounds like someone’s being fucked within an inch of their life. And with his hands pinned behind his back, he can’t cover his own mouth. He’s biting his lip bloody and swollen trying to muffle the noises he’s making.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, Louis?” Lestat asks, something sharp just lingering under his voice. “Isn’t that why you did it here? So everyone can hear you take my cock? You could have asked me to come to your apartment, or ask me to book a hotel for us. But I think you want people to know that you’re my whore, that you let me do anything I want.”
Louis sobs.
“What was that?” Someone asks outside. “You guys hear that?”
Lestat slows down, huffing a soft laugh, finally softening. “Come here, cheri. Kiss me. You’re so loud with something inside you.”
Louis leans in gratefully, and it’s easier to stay quiet — or at least to ignore how loud they’re being — when he can suck on Lestat’s tongue.
“I think they’re gone.” Louis whispers, impatiently shifting around on Lestat’s lap, trying to get some leverage despite the tight grip Lestat has on his waist.
“You want it hard again?” When Louis doesn’t answer him, he tells him in a harder, more commanding tone, “Ask for it, Louis. Ask me.”
It’s easier to ask for things he wants when he’s horny and when he can feel his orgasm lingering just out of reach. “Fuck me, please. Hard as you can.”
Lestat stands, lifting him with Louis’s legs wrapped around his waist, never pulling out for a second. He places Louis on his desk, pushing things off carelessly to make space. His laptop makes a loud crunching noise when it hits the floor.
“I can’t wait to spread you out properly.” Lestat grunts, pounding into him, a hand on Louis’s shoulder to keep him from sliding up the polished wood. “Put you on a bed, take my time with you. But I can’t resist when you ask so sweetly like this.”
Louis nods frantically, his hand traveling down his chest to pinch his own nipples, a sweet bite of pain every time Lestat thrusts inside him.
“Do you want to come?”
“Gon’ come like this.” Louis slurs, “Fuck, it’s so good.”
“You feel so good, Louis. Sweetest little ass. I don’t want to pull out, I might not be able to stop myself.” Lestat’s voice is rough, full of heat, his hips snapping into Louis.
Louis shakes his head desperately.
“No?” Lestat taunts. “If you want me to pull out, you’ll have to beg.”
But Louis isn’t interested in some one-time sordid fuck, or even two or three. He wants everything Lestat has to offer, and that means giving him everything he can. Overwhelming him until Louis has him in his pocket.
“I—I, I don’t want you to pull out.”
Lestat freezes, hips stuttering to a stop. “What?” His voice is weak, fractured. Louis knows he’s shocked him.
Louis lifts his hips in a slow circle, moaning at the way it makes the cock inside him press against his sweet spot. “Please, sir, I don’t want you to pull out. I want you to come inside me.”
Letstat inhales sharply. “You do?”
“Please. Please.” Louis chants feverishly. Lestat picks the pace up again, fucking hard inside him, his balls slapping against Louis’s ass.
“Tell me what you want, mon cher.”
“Your cum, please, please.” Louis whines, and then, feeling feverish, “Want you to fill me up, Lestat, please. Make me yours.”
Lestat grunts and folds him over until his knees are pressed to his chest, spanking his ass hard. Once. Twice. “Do you know what you’re asking for, Louis? Or are you too cock-drunk to think clearly?”
“I want it.” Louis promises feverishly.
Lestat groans, completely undone, and fucks him like Louis’s about to disappear any moment. “I’m going to give you everything. Everything, Louis.”
Louis clenches down on him, coming untouched between them. He wraps his arms around Lestat and kisses his face, encouraging him to come inside him. He can feel how close Lestat is, how his cock is throbbing inside him. He whispers into his ear, “Thank you, sir.”
Lestat comes with a deep groan pulled from his chest, burying himself deep into him. Louis feels his cock twitch inside him, imagines the ropes of cum that are inside him now.
Later, when Lestat has soothed him with gentle touches and soft words, and they’re in their clothes again, the office dark and empty, Lestat takes his hand.
Lestat’s looking at him tenderly, sweet and doting after sex. “I don’t want you working here anymore. I want to take care of you.”
Louis opens his mouth.
“Anything you want.” Lestat cuts across, interrupting him before he can even say yes. There’s a desperation to him now, like he’s expecting Louis to say no. “You can have anything you want, Louis. You’ll just have to say the word and you’ll have it. But I want you to myself. Do you understand?”
Louis bites his lip, hope and happiness blooming in his chest. It’s what he wanted and he it’s within reach.
As long as he can keep control of things, it’s going to be easy for him. He can control things, he tells himself, unable to resist trailing a finger down Lestat’s nose, over his eyelids. Lestat smiles at him, and Louis’s heart does a strange tremble in his chest at the sight of it.