Archive of Our Own

Louis scowls, eyes wearily observing the room that he lounges in. The casino hotel is busy tonight, with other groups of people having their own get togethers and birthday celebrations that cause for noisiness. Echoes of footsteps and dishes that clang all mix in with the voices that ricochet across the large room. Daniel Malloy is one lucky motherfucker. Why? Because Louis has voluntarily come to a place that reeks of alcohol, sweat, and cigarettes for him on a night that he should be working. Louis sips from the glass of water in his hands and frowns even deeper at the body odor that some people emit when they walk by. He glances at the watch on his wrist. It’s too early for him to leave, especially since nobody else has even arrived to this planned celebration yet.

“Louis! You made it!” Daniel’s voice booms over the cheers and chatter that flood Louis’ senses. Louis’ head whips around and he finds his dear friend walking hand in hand with his boyfriend, Armand.

“I did, I did,” Louis offers a small smile despite his overstimulation. Daniel only turns sixty-five once, so he figures that he should definitely be at this little birthday event. He met Daniel years ago at his old job at the art gallery, becoming fast friends. It’s rare to find someone who has a specific attention to detail and calls it like it is these days. Louis is grateful to have him in his life. He envelopes Daniel in a quick hug and wishes him a happy birthday. After this greeting, he locks eyes with Armand.

Armand came into Daniel’s life many years after Louis had started a friendship with him, but the two have been together for at least five, if Louis can remember correctly. Armand is cordial, but Louis has always found that Daniel’s boyfriend can be a bit off-putting at times. It’s almost as if he can read his mind or see into his soul when he’s thinking. God forbid he try to plan anything for Daniel and Armand gets a whiff of the idea. It’s planned to perfection before another word can be uttered, leaving Louis feeling useless. Armand is so aware of everyone and everything that if Louis so much as groans with satisfaction at a fruit that they’re all snacking on, it appears again on the table at another game night, ready to be devoured. Louis deliberates the depths of thought behind Armand’s eyes while they greet each other.

“Hi Louis,” Armand smiles and pulls at Daniel’s arm closely. Louis offers a silent wave and small smile to acknowledge Daniel’s lover. He doesn’t want Armand to notice that he’s already miserable here. Louis pretends to ignore the fact that a specific other person that has been invited should be arriving any second, and instead focuses on the remaining few people that trickle in a couple minutes late.

There are exactly nine people that are here to celebrate Daniel, with ten invited, which is amazing to Louis. Personally, he feels that only about three people would show up if he were to plan any sort of party for himself. He speaks with a few of the party members as everyone continues waiting for the last guest to arrive, having met some of them before. Typical. This one always arrives ‘fashionably’ late. Louis rolls his eyes at the thought of him using the words ‘fashionably late’ the last time there was a dinner party at Daniel and Armand’s apartment. They debated over it the entire night. Being late is simply being late in Louis’ eyes. It’s rude. Some people just don’t understand that and probably never will.

“There he is, we can finally get started,” Daniel rolls his eyes, not particularly fond of the late guest either. He does have to put up with him more often, though, because he is a part of Armand’s close friend group.

“Lestat!” Armand throws both of his arms out widely as the tall, broad-shouldered blonde barrels through the lobby of the casino with a cigarette hanging from his mouth limply. Louis finds himself staring at the man, noting his outfit of choice for the evening. Lestat’s hair is half up, earrings and necklaces glistening under the various lights of the room. He dons a light grey sweater with a leather jacket on top of it and black slacks. Doc Martens hug his feet, showing years of abuse through wearing them almost every day. Sunglasses sit on the bridge of his nose even though it’s dark outside. He shoves them to the top of his head before he wraps his arms around Armand.

“Bonsoir mon gremlin,” Lestat’s rich, accented voice lilts with humor as he hugs one of his best friends. Louis locks his gaze with Daniel for a moment and rolls his own eyes. He pretends to slit his throat in mock agony while Armand’s eyes are closed. Daniel simply laughs to himself and slaps Lestat on the shoulder after the embrace that everyone observes. Louis swears that Lestat and Armand have slept together multiple times, but its not information that Daniel would divulge in even if he knew it were true. Lestat pulls away from his friend and tightly grips Daniel’s biceps, “Happy Birthday, Daniel.”

Everyone in the group ogles at Lestat in wonder, enamored by him and his existence, as always. Louis notices that he’s grating his teeth and unclenches his jaw immediately. Lestat addresses everyone with a twirl of his wrist and a perfect smile. It’s the greeting that always grates on Louis’ nerves. Well, everything Lestat does grates on his nerves. It’s almost as if he was put on this Earth to flip Louis’ world upside down. It isn’t long before Lestat’s gaze locks onto Louis, eyes like oceans devouring him whole.

“Hello, Louis,” Lestat’s voice floats through the air and into Louis’ ears, as if they are the only two human beings in the room. Louis’ mouth forms a thin line while he glares and nods his head quickly in a half-assed greeting, heart racing rapidly. He realizes that his hatred of this man in front of him has become extreme. The fact that his heart is racing upon being around Lestat is a new development.

He met Lestat for the first time while hanging out with Daniel and Armand after they began dating. Armand thought that Louis and Lestat would hit it off, but it was determined very quickly that that assumption was simply not the case. Armand is usually right, according to Armand himself, so even to this day, he still finds it strange that nothing has ever happened between the two. Louis still finds it offensive that Armand believed there was something there in the first place, not understanding why Armand would ever think that.

The party group forms a small circle while Daniel discusses the goal of the birthday celebration tonight. Essentially, everyone is involved in this giant elaborate party game created by Armand. Whoever ingests the most alcoholic beverages will win a prize and whoever wins the most money will win a prize, and since there are twelve people in the group, everyone must pair up. Cake will be eaten in Daniel and Armand’s hotel room upstairs and everyone is to meet by three o’clock in the morning. Louis listens to the directions and finds that it’s simple enough, although he is hesitant about drinking so much. He feels guilty about anyone pairing up with him now. Leave it to Daniel and Armand to concoct a messy challenge to participate in.

“To make this more interesting, I thought that instead of picking someone to pair yourselves with, that we would use an app to randomly generate pairings,” Armand excitedly explains, tugging his small iPad from the black bag that he carries on his shoulder.

Louis blinks slowly at this, eyes flitting to everyone in the group. His eyes settle on Lestat last, who is already peering at him with his head tilted. His lips glisten even from this distance. Another irritating quality about Lestat. Louis looks away quickly, hoping with everything inside of him that Lestat is not randomly paired with him.

“Santiago and David, Alice and Madeline,” Armand reads off the list of names, and Louis’ stomach twists with anxiety. The entire list is read off until there are two names left, which leaves Louis’ stomach sinking to the depths of hell, “Louis and Lestat, you’re our final pairing.”

Everyone in the group seems to be just a little disappointed that they weren’t paired with Lestat. They’re all interested in him in their own ways, for their own reasons. Lestat, on the other hand, doesn’t seem very bothered by this turn of events whatsoever, ever the confident man Louis has always known him to be. He waltzes over next to Louis, who practically shrinks in terror, and puffs on his cigarette. Armand looks between them with a smirk before clapping once, “Let’s begin! Bring your receipts for beverages and your cash winnings upstairs by three in the morning!”

Some pairings run to the bar, while others zoom straight towards the slot machines and tables. The eager conversations and buzz of excitement ooze off of everyone except for Louis himself. Daniel and Armand hold each others’ hands and swing them as they turn and head towards the snack bar. It just leaves Lestat and Louis standing there in the center of the room quietly.

“You do not seem very happy that we are paired, mon cher,” Lestat coos beside Louis, who is doing anything but looking at his partner right now.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Louis weakly responds. It’s true. He doesn’t hear Lestat call anyone else mon cher, just him. It bothers him to no fucking end, with a strange sensation in his chest that always squeezes his heart at the sound of the nickname. The fact that they’re paired together tonight has him spiraling internally.

Lestat puts his hands up in mock defense, the cigarette in his lips moving while he talks, “Okay, but only if you promise me something.”

Louis closes his eyes tiredly, “Promise you what?”

“That we’ll win tonight.”

Louis’ shoulders rise with tension. He tries to inhale deeply to calm himself down a bit before nodding his head. Without saying anything else, he heads straight towards the bar. He’s going to need several drinks if he’s going to be around Lestat. Whatever idea he had of being sober tonight has completely ejected itself out of the imaginary window in Louis’ mind. Maybe they actually will win a prize for drinking the most drinks tonight. He finds himself sweating already. Lestat smells really good, it’s throwing him off. He suddenly has a gut feeling that this pairing was not as random as Armand made it seem to be, but there’s nothing that he can do about it now.

Louis attempts to catch the attention of the bartender behind the bar with a waving hand, but it’s so loud and packed that he’s having a difficult time. He deflates and puts his arm down after a minute of trying. Then, he feels a large warm hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry, Louis, I’ll order you something.”

“You really don’t have to-“

“I insist mon… ami,” Lestat catches himself and winks at Louis, who pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head disapprovingly.

Lestat is not that much taller than Louis, but Louis finds himself looking up at the man beside him. Lestat glides in between some of the people at the bar, smiling lazily at them as they begin to protest. Upon seeing him, though, the disgruntled guests are enthralled by his beauty and stop complaining immediately. Instead, they start up conversation almost instantly. Louis groans, pulling at his face with how fucking ridiculous all of this is. He truly doesn’t understand how people just allow Lestat to get away with everything due to his pretty features.

“I’ll have a sazerac and strawberry daiquiri,” Lestat projects his voice for the bartender to hear. Louis feels a pang in his chest, knowing that the sazerac is for him. When the hell did Lestat learn Louis’ drink order?

Lestat flirts with the men and women that surround him while they all wait for their drinks. Louis stalks off and leans against a pole in the distance, waiting for his beverage. He had to step away from the pandemonium at the bar. People swarm like ants around the space, downing drinks like it’s their day job. It’s not something he wants to surround himself with. It is something that Lestat is very well-versed in, apparently. His blue eyes flicker down at the lips of the woman beside him while he converses with her. It grates on Louis’ nerves. Who is she to gain his attention like that? Not that he cares that deeply about it.

Louis leans with his arms crossed, trying to ignore the feelings that come along with his drink being ordered for him. He’s touched over the fact that Lestat remembered an insignificant detail about him. He hates that he feels this way. He hates Lestat. He’s been nothing but rude to the irritating blonde for years, fighting with the man half of the time that they’ve been around each other, ignoring him crossly for the other half. Being bought a drink should not negate his current opinion of Lestat, though. He won’t let it.

“Voilà, your drink,” Louis feels Lestat’s breath fan across his cheek and startles, ripped from his deep thoughts. Lestat simply tilts his head to the side like a cat as he always does, and offers the alcoholic beverage in his hand to Louis. He’s appeared out of thin air. His long fingers that wrap around the glass slip away when Louis accepts the offering.

“Uh, thanks,” Louis mutters. He gulps at the drink like his life depends on it, while Lestat sips his through a straw with crinkled eyes that are filled with amusement. Louis’ drink is gone in under a minute. He feels his face grow warm, wishing that he had another one of these to throw back. Luckily, he didn’t eat much before arriving here, so at least that will help him loosen up for this night.

Lestat sips his drink ever so slowly, “So are we talking tonight, or will you forever sit in your typical sullen silence?”

“It’s not sullen, it’s just silence.”

“Louis,” Lestat’s eyes flash, the syllables of Louis’ name sounding more like ‘Lou-wee’ rather than ‘Louis', “You look like a dog who has been kicked by his owner. Am I that terrible for you to act this way?”

Louis pauses, “I need another drink. We don’t have to pretend that we are friendly with each other, Lestat. I know how you feel about me, you know how I feel about you.”

“Oh, really? And how do I feel about you, Louis?” Lestat purrs, eyes gleaming with something fierce despite the soft, sultry tone of his voice. Louis can’t decipher the emotion in those blue eyes.

Louis feels trapped. He swallows thickly, pondering over how he thinks Lestat feels about him. He actually doesn’t know. He’s never bothered to ask or to think about it, instead assuming that the hatred was mutual. They sure as hell debate and fight as if they hate each other. The way that Lestat’s gaze bores into his own doesn’t exactly make him feel like he’s hated at the moment, though. Lestat’s eyes move down Louis’ face and briefly rest on his mouth before inching their way back towards the windows of his soul. Louis blinks rapidly, and Lestat shrugs with the lack of response, stepping away to buy Louis another drink.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

After Louis drinks three sazerac’s in a row, he feels like he’s floating, walking on air. He vaguely remembers that he told himself he wouldn’t drink this much, but then he got paired with the most beautiful and infuriating man in the entire world for the night. He narrows his eyes at the thought of himself calling Lestat the most beautiful man in his mind and tries to pretend that he hasn’t. Lestat is uncharacteristically quiet tonight, too, which Louis finds odd. The flirting that he’s typically bombarded with is nowhere in sight. The nickname that he secretly doesn’t mind hearing that much was only uttered once before Louis made Lestat stop saying it. Lestat actually listened to him for once. He hasn’t said it since he was told to stop, not even in a joking manner. Louis kind of misses it, the nickname that bothers him so much. Not that he’ll ever admit that out loud.

Lestat’s hand brushes against Louis’ accidentally while they sit at a slot machine. His eyes flit to Lestat’s side profile. The man’s nose is perfect. His lips pout naturally. His skin is even clearer up close. Louis’ stomach sizzles upon noticing Lestat’s attributes. More reasons to hate Lestat, who leans across Louis in order to press the button that will move the wheels in the machine. Louis absently wonders what the hell he’s wearing to make him smell so enticing.

“You’re staring,” Lestat murmurs without moving his eyes off of the machine, “And the slots are terribly boring. We should gamble at one of the tables.”

“You’re quiet tonight,” Louis ignores Lestat’s comment about leaving the machine. Lestat glances at Louis briefly, but continues pressing the slot machine button, still leaning over Louis as if its not consuming Louis’ every waking, loathing thought. Lestat doesn’t comment, which irritates Louis for some reason. Why doesn’t he have some sort of response riddled with attitude like he normally does? Louis’ eyes drop to the cigarette in Lestat’s mouth, and before he can think better of it, he snatches it and shoves it into his own. The filter where Lestat’s lips were tingles against Louis’ own lips.

Lestat stills with this action that Louis enacts, pale hand hovering over the slot machine button. Eventually, he elects to regain his composure and continues to marinate in silence, not once moving his eyes off the slot machine screen. Louis really thought that this would provoke Lestat, seeing as he’s done far less to cause a scene with the blonde. The irritation that sparked in Louis moments ago bubbles up in his stomach to something stronger. He’s not used to this version of Lestat. He would rather have the loud, obnoxious Lestat make his grand entrance than this subdued stranger in front of him. Louis slowly sucks on the cigarette with a scowl, swaying slightly. The room is rocking back and forth as if he’s sitting on a ship. He feels dizzy with an emotion that he cannot describe.

Taking the cigarette between his fingers, Louis places his hand right next to Lestat’s at the button. Lestat’s fingers gently twitch over the button as they wait for the slots to stop spinning once again. His mouth jerks slightly, the scar by it creasing. His eyes flash when he makes eye contact with Louis, but he still refrains from speaking.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Louis blows a plume of smoke towards Lestat’s face while he poses the question. The lack of response and blatant ignoring that Lestat is committing to is awful. Is this why Lestat blows up at Louis for ignoring his existence whenever they have to be around each other? Is he just giving Louis a taste of his own medicine? Louis’ eyebrows furrow, his inhibitions gone. He grabs Lestat’s wonderfully chiseled jawline. The same jawline that never stops moving in most cases. The same jawline that God must have carefully created himself upon an altar before sending his ethereal angel down to Earth with the rest of the plebeian population.

“Lestat,” Louis grates, squeezing Lestat’s jaw. Lestat swallows thickly, lips wet with saliva, while Louis turns his face, “I’m fuckin’ talking to you.”

“You are,” Lestat counters quietly. His pupils are the size of satellite dishes. He reminds Louis of a baby bird who is trying to fly for the first time with those eyes. His mouth scrunches in a particularly appealing way.

“Then respond,” Louis glowers and inches his face toward Lestat’s, who quivers in Louis’ grasp. Louis is reeling with the alcohol in his system. Puffs of shallow air exit Lestat’s nostrils, revealing that he’s breathing fast.

“I just did,” Lestat blinks, staring at Louis’ lips as if they’re a lifeline, “You ignored what I said about leaving the machine. I don’t take kindly to being ignored, Louis. You ignore me all of the time. How does it feel?”

Louis’ heart is pounding and he feels his lower belly swirl with what he assumes to be hatred. It’s a sensation that has plagued him since his first meeting with Lestat. He releases Lestat’s face from his clutches and propels himself off of the chair instantly, “Come on, then. Let’s go. Tables aren’t far.”

“No really, how does it feel Louis?” Lestat grimaces at the man standing behind him, crossing his arms. Louis rolls his eyes and stands there idly, refusing to answer the question like a petulant child.

Lestat scowls at his cigarette, which is in Louis’ mouth, and closes out of the slot machine. He rolls his shoulders back confidently before they walk across the room, pretending that whatever just happened did not just happen. He’s showing restraint for some reason unbeknownst to Louis. He decides that he doesn’t like when Lestat holds himself back. As they pass the threshold to the main lobby where reception is located, they pass a dimly lit room that seems quieter than the rest. It appears that there is an arcade attached to this casino hotel, which is ironic. Louis surmises that it must be for people who bring the whole family along. Louis finds himself drawn to it, seeing as there are not as many people inside. It’s a little calmer, a little quieter. Maybe it will ease the tension growing within himself and Lestat. Without thinking, he laces his fingers with Lestat’s and aggressively tugs the man like a rag doll through the threshold of the door.

“Putain de merde, Louis,” Lestat hisses, ripping his hand away from Louis’ the second that they stop by an arcade game at the back of the dark room, “You could have ripped my arm off.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “With how muscular your arms are? Please.” He immediately stops himself and hesitates, shoulders lifting with tension. Did he just reveal that he notices Lestat’s muscular arms from time to time? His eyes rove over to meet Lestat’s in slight horror, who stares at him incredulously. Lestat rubs at his shoulder. Louis needs to pull himself together. What the fuck is he doing? He makes a note to self that he can never drink this much ever again, especially around Lestat.

Once again, Lestat chooses to let the comment fade away in the wind, which Louis is grateful for. He wonders what is going through Lestat’s mind at these comments that Louis continues to let loose and this behavior that he cannot seem to control. He continues to ruminate over how he shouldn’t have drank so many fucking drinks. Something in him has been rousing ever since he became inebriated. Louis and Lestat stand at an old-school style game that Louis led them to initially. It’s the kind that involves buttons and a joystick.

“Why are we in here? I thought we were finding a table?” Lestat questions.

Louis leans against the game they’re standing by. “Could use a break from being in the main part of the casino, is all.”

“Yes, I remember. You do not usually grace social settings with your presence because it is… how do you say it? Sursstimulé?” Lestat’s eyes rove Louis’ face while he searches his memory to quote whatever Louis had said in the past in English.

“Overstimulating,” Louis assists Lestat, finishing his thought for him. He’s beginning to realize that Lestat listens to him when he speaks more often than not.

“Overstimulating,” Lestat repeats slowly, the word rolling over his tongue. There is a pause in their conversation and they both observe the room they’re standing in while Lestat whispers the word to himself again, as if memorizing it.

“You know, I have never played one of these arcade games,” Lestat offers a fact about himself, wiggling his fingers towards the game that Louis is leaning on. Louis would normally snap rudely or blatantly ignore this information, but with how jumbled his brain is right now, he can’t be bothered.

“I used to play these with my brother and sister growing up. Lemme show you how it works,” Louis explains, feeling himself become a little more relaxed than he was just mere minutes ago. At least Lestat isn’t ignoring him again. They’re not full-blown fighting yet, either, which is different.

Louis shoves some coins into the machine, playing the game with as much concentration as he can muster. It’s a little bit more difficult than usual, seeing as the screen is moving in waves, but he grips the joystick and manages to defeat many of the enemies that walk his way. He eventually loses and backs up, twirling his hands in a Lestat type of way that invites the blonde to take his turn. Lestat’s fingers curl around the joystick unhurriedly, almost shyly, while Louis inserts more coins into the machine for him. Lestat presses the buttons haphazardly, sticking his tongue out slightly with the utmost focus. His brows furrow while he plays. He’s actually really bad at the game. Louis suddenly notices that he isn’t moving the joystick.

Louis’ hand melds around Lestat’s without a second thought, guiding Lestat’s hand to move the joystick back and forth. That feeling that he felt earlier returns to his lower stomach. The one that he describes as hate. It has to be hate. Right? Lestat hesitates for a moment, eyes moving from the screen to Louis’ face, quizzically. Louis didn’t realize how close he had gotten to Lestat in this moment. Their cheeks are practically touching, and hands are woven together on the joystick. Louis realizes what he’s done with shock, but before he can back away, Lestat removes himself from the game and shoves Louis against the dark plush wall beside them.

“You are not doing a very good job of loathing me tonight, Louis,” Lestat whispers against Louis’ ear, lips caressing the shell of it lightly. Louis full-body shivers. He can’t seem to find his voice in time to respond, so Lestat continues, “Why are you lying to yourself? Why are you lying to me, mon cher?”

Mon cher.

Louis’ heart sputters out of control at Lestat’s quiet words, the promise from earlier broken. His favorite nickname reverberates throughout his skull. Mon cher, mon cher, mon cher. Lestat shoves his knee in between Louis’ legs, spreading them apart. Their breaths intertwine while Lestat’s nose brushes against Louis’. The world is tilting around them. Louis is helpless to what is happening in this dark corner of the arcade as he unintentionally rubs himself on Lestat’s thigh with a feeble attempt to slip free. He holds back a moan with closed lips.

“I haven’t been lying,” Louis mumbles, breath leaving his lungs as Lestat presses his hips flush against his, “I haven’t- ah-hah.”

Lestat’s lips rub along Louis’ jawline at a snail’s pace. His big hands slip under Louis’ shirt and wander across his back. It’s warm there and Lestat doesn’t want to leave, “Mhmm. T’es qu’un putain de menteur, Louis.”

Louis has no fucking idea what Lestat just said because Lestat spoke too fast, but he does notice how Lestat’s voice has dropped an octave. It ignites something within him and drives him crazy. He wraps his hand around Lestat’s jaw again, fire burning in his belly. He hates him, he hates him. He hates this fallen angel, which is what he truly must be. With black wings that droop to the ground, shackled to this realm that he was never supposed to exist in because he’s too beautiful, too otherworldly. Lestat inhales sharply at his jaw being gripped again, not ripping himself away. Louis is practically panting like he’s run a marathon when he finally figures out what he wants to say, “I do hate you. Look at what you’re doing to me.”

Lestat does the unthinkable and tongues where Louis’ jaw meets his neck, causing Louis to melt into him and whimper softly. Louis attempts to ground himself despite how delicious it feels. He shoves Lestat back by his jaw so that he can verbalize his thoughts instead of helplessly wobbling on his feet like a jellyfish that’s just sprouted legs, “All you fuckin’ do is flirt with me. You piss me off more than anything. You’re obnoxious, annoying. You blabber on and on and fuckin’ on with that mouth of yours-“

“And yet you listen to every word that leaves my lips when I speak. Why is that, Louis? I could be having a conversation that you are not involved in and you appear, knowing what we are discussing. I saw the way your eyes lit up when I arrived tonight. You may as well have a sign above your head that says come to me,” Lestat inhales the scent of Louis’ hair, his nose resting against Louis’ temple. Louis’ grip around his jaw has gone slack. Instead of letting his hand flail in the air limply, Louis brushes it through Lestat’s soft curls and towards the back of his stupidly perfect head.

“Someone’s gotta remind you that you aren’t God,” Louis pants, pressing his own face against Lestat’s neck while he grips the blonde’s hair at the root. He ignores the protesting, rampant thought that his spoken words are wrong. If Lestat is not a God in his own right, why the fuck is Louis fueled by the innate desire to worship him? Louis tugs at Lestat’s hair mercilessly, causing Lestat to buck into him unintentionally with a groan. Louis moans, mouth open, feeling the sweat that forms on Lestat’s skin. He sticks his tongue out fervently, the pad of it flat against Lestat’s pulse, licking upward. The taste of Lestat is salty and sweet, he smells divine. He can feel Lestat’s moan, the vibration hitting the back of his throat. When did they start humping each other on this wall?

Louis’ mind is going haywire, as if electricity is coursing through his veins. He adjusts Lestat’s head accordingly, with their foreheads pressed up against each other. Their lips rub together, but they aren’t kissing. It’s obscene. Saliva pools in the corners of Louis’ mouth and glides onto Lestat’s chin messily. They breathe into each other’s mouths, teeth clashing every now and then. Louis’ heart nearly stops as he realizes anyone could walk in here. If he was on a ship before, he’s now on a fucking buoy, fighting for his life. Lestat’s right hand makes its way around the front of Louis’ neck, not squeezing, just resting. His left hand grips Louis’ waist roughly.

“I can show you God, Louis,” Lestat’s fingers lightly squeeze at Louis’ throat in a teasing manner while Louis’ drool slips from his mouth and down his own chin. He licks the side of Louis’ mouth wantonly. It has Louis’ cock jumping in his jeans and breath lost in his lungs. The hand on Louis’ waist rucks up Louis’ top and finds a taut nipple, squeezing. Louis throws his head back, whining, wanting more. He ruts into Lestat’s thigh.

Louis shakes his head quickly, trying to snap out of it for the sake of finding a private space, “We can’t do this here.”

“Bathroom?”

“No,” Louis pants. He opens his eyes and peers into Lestat’s heady gaze, thinking of the room that he booked separately from everyone else when this trip was planned, “My room.”

Lestat removes his hands quickly, backing away just as fast. The loss of his body against Louis has Louis’ mind swirling with yearning. He snatches the blonde’s wrist into his hand and surges forward out of the arcade. With being back in the brightly lit room full of noise, Louis’ heart races even faster. All of the smells and sounds are too much for him. He’s actually glad to be leaving the space. While they walk, Lestat wiggles his hand and Louis squeezes his wrist roughly. They pass a mirror and Louis glances at it. Shit.

They look like they just fucked inside of the arcade. Louis’ clothes are completely misshapen on his body. He tugs down at his shirt to straighten it and adjusts his jeans so that nobody can tell that he’s half hard. Lestat appears in an even more vulnerable state, cock hard in his slacks without a care in the world. His thick hair is all over the place, with the small ribbon that was holding his hair half up at the start of the party being completely gone.

Lestat smirks at Louis through hooded eyes, yanking two drinks off of a random bar that they pass. He hands one to Louis, who smiles for once at his antics. He can find Lestat amusing sometimes, although it’s rare. They both down the glasses, making faces once they’re finished. Both drinks are disgusting, but then again, they just stole them. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Nobody is in the hallway where the elevators are due to the fact that the night has just started for most people in the establishment. Louis pushes Lestat against the wall between the two elevators, pressing the up button, “You’ve got some nerve putting your hand ‘round my neck.”

The blue in Lestat’s eyes have been gone for a while. They roam Louis’ face as if he’ll disappear at any moment, finally resting on his lips, while Louis places his own hand against Lestat’s neck, squeezing just as softly as Lestat did earlier. Lestat laughs, but it comes out more as a whine, “What are you going to do about it, Louis? Hate me to death?”

“You’re a fuckin’ brat,” Louis’ lips ghost over Lestat’s. He snags Lestat’s bottom lip with his teeth and wrenches the blonde towards him. Lestat trips forward, melting into Louis, hands firmly pawing at his chest. He hears the ding of the elevator next to them. When the doors open, he leads Lestat inside and slams him against the wall, pressing the sixth floor button. Luckily, nobody enters the small space and the doors shut.

Lestat slowly sinks to the ground, even with his back against the elevator wall. Louis blinks rapidly, “What’re you-“

The gasp that exits Louis’ throat is one that would alarm anyone in hearing distance. Louis’ hand falls to the bar beside him on the wall. Lestat’s hands wrap around Louis’ thighs, twirling him sideways and ramming him into the same bar that he just grabbed onto. The elevator shakes with the force that Lestat showcases in order to have Louis where he wants him. The lights flicker. He opens his mouth and drools into Louis’ pants, right over his half-hard cock, moaning loudly. It vibrates all the way to Louis’ spine. Louis’ head hits the wall, eyes fluttering and jaw dropping. Christ. He didn’t know that someone could elicit this out of him, let alone from just mouthing at his clothed genitals.

Lestat’s fingers snake around Louis’ hips and right to his ass. He grips both cheeks hard and spreads them apart obscenely, all while continuing to kiss and lather Louis’ clothed cock with spit. Louis feels his hole flex at the sensation.

“Lestat, please,” Louis whines, trying to hold himself together. He can’t help but buck into Lestat’s face. He’s supposed to be hating Lestat right now, he swears. He’s supposed to be the one in control, just as he is with everything else in his life.

“What is it, mon cher?” Lestat senses where Louis’ tip is and places his mouth over it though the pants. The outline of spit on his jeans that Louis observes upon looking down should have him disgusted, but he’s only severely turned on.

“Fuck, fuck,” Louis breathes. Lestat palms at Louis’ erection, reaching for his belt buckle, and Louis firmly holds his hand back. Instead, he sinks to the floor alongside the blonde and shoves him to the ground, his own large hands feeling the pectoral muscles of Lestat’s chest through the soft grey cardigan. Louis notices that Lestat isn’t even wearing a shirt under this soft piece of clothing as it rides up his torso. A sliver of Lestat’s lower belly reveals itself under the harsh light of the elevator. Louis shakes his head again and straddles Lestat, who sits up immediately.

Lestat wraps his arms around Louis, who yanks Lestat’s head back by the hair, exposing his throat. Lestat’s mouth falls open and his eyes shut halfway, the whites of them peeking out. A lewd moan escapes from his throat, which is the song that ignites a fire inside of the man in his lap. Louis moves, jerking his hips as if he’s riding a bull, mouth latching onto Lestat’s neck, leeching off of it. Lestat cries out, moving with Louis, fingers flying underneath Louis’ shirt. His nails pierce Louis’ back and move downward, scratching. Louis knows he’s going to find several deep red lines in his back whenever this is over.

The ding of the elevator has them jumping out of their skin, having forgotten the fact that they’ve been moving up the building in it. The doors open without warning, and a couple waiting and laughing simply stop and gawk at the two men they see panting on the floor. Louis closes his eyes, gasping for breath. Lestat adjusts him so that they can both stand. When Louis glances over, Lestat’s neck is already bright purple with how hard Louis was sucking. He may as well be a vampire.

Lestat pulls Louis out of the elevator, languidly smiling at the couple as they pass. The couple enters the elevator and Louis mutters, “6643 is the room number.”

“I am in 6649. Are we hate-fucking tonight Louis? Or regular fucking because you’ve realized that you never hated me in the first place?” Lestat challenges, finding the right direction of where the room is. They step to the right and continue their journey. Their steps pad quietly on the carpet of the hallway while irritation finds Louis again with how annoying and smug Lestat can be. He narrows his eyes as he watches Lestat’s satisfied face direct itself towards his. Their breathing has not returned to a normal pace yet as they practically speed walk to their destination.

“You should shut the hell up before we don’t fuck at all,” Louis scowls.

“You are a wordsmith, Louis. I am so enchanted by you,” Lestat sneers at Louis, rolling his eyes. Louis rips his hand away from Lestat’s. He’s about to punch him in the face, the overconfident fucker.

Louis fumbles with the room key card once they arrive at the door, nerves overtaking him and the world still spinning from the alcohol. He’s had a small amount of time to start second-guessing everything that’s led him up to this point. Should he really be fucking Lestat of all people? Especially when he dislikes him so much? Hates him. He hates him. Why is he talking about disliking Lestat, which is significantly less serious than hating him? Does he hate him? Louis’ thoughts jumble together for the infinitesimal time this evening as the door clicks, unlocking itself.

Lestat enters first, almost like a tiger assessing where it is going to sit and wait for prey to turn up so it can attack. Louis enters after, inhaling deeply, feeling very much like a rabbit about to be snatched from the ground by a hawk. He absently wonders if the building is going to catch on fire somehow due to the fact that he doesn’t remember where he put his lit cigarette when he was downstairs. The heavy door slams shut, finalizing what’s about to happen in this room they’ve travelled to.

Lestat steps in front of Louis in the tiny hotel room hallway, cornering him against yet another surface. He places his hand around Louis’ jaw this time, squeezing harder than Louis ever did tonight downstairs. Louis’ eyes flutter at the sensation, forgetting any nerves that attempted to steer him in the right direction. Lestat assesses Louis patiently, moving Louis’ head from side to side slowly, “Do you want to do this, mon cher?”

Lestat’s thumb glides across Louis’ lower lip. Louis opens his mouth in invitation, suggesting that his answer is yes. Their eye contact is smoldering, like embers on a steadfast fire. Lestat glances at his mouth briefly, inserting his thumb. Louis’ tongue envelopes Lestat’s thumb and he shuts his lips around it. He hallows his cheeks and sucks. He hears a sharp intake of breath upon doing this, and Lestat whispers, “Tu serais si jolie en faisant ça à genoux.”

Louis sucks harder when hearing Lestat speak French. He admits to himself that it’s sexy. He can totally still hate someone and think that their native language is sexy. It’s okay, it’s totally fine. Lestat pulls his thumb out and shoves it back into his mouth multiple times, as if he’s fucking a hole. It becomes more aggressive and rough with each pass. Louis finds himself humming and closing his eyes, enjoying the rhythm of it all while his cock becomes harder and harder. He grips Lestat’s wrist as if to lock them together. Lestat finally removes his finger with a pop, and shoves it into his own mouth, sucking Louis’ spit clean off.

Louis is overcome with lust at the sight of this. He tangles both of his hands into Lestat’s hair and lunges for his mouth. Louis didn’t know that this type of kissing existed. The intimacy of it all is excruciatingly delicious. Lestat fully moans into Louis’ mouth, lips locking instantly. Louis allows Lestat to lead, although the blonde has begun tugging at Louis’ belt, button, and zipper. Louis’ thumb slides across Lestat’s cheekbone, shuddering at how his pants are being ripped open while having a tongue shoved halfway down his throat. The wet heat of their kissing is tantalizing for Louis. He can’t help but shudder at the smacking, popping sounds that reverberate off of the walls.

Lestat pulls away from Louis and a trail of saliva follows, breaking off in a snap. It hangs from his lip and dribbles down his chin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He lowers himself to his knees for the second time tonight and pulls both Louis’ pants and underwear down with a forceful tug. Louis is fully hard at this point. He’s been aching for this since the arcade room downstairs. Maybe longer. He tries to ignore the memories of the random wet dreams that he’s been having over the past few months. The ones that Lestat heavily stars in. Lestat claws at Louis’ shoes and throws them over his shoulder one by one. One haphazardly lands on the dresser. The other smacks directly into the window and thumps to the floor. Louis helps him remove his pants by stepping out of them, and pulls his shirt off over his head, breathing heavily.

“Your cock is very pretty,” Lestat’s tongue glides across his lower lip before he bites it, admiring Louis for all that he is. Louis leans against the door, weak at the knees. He can’t help but shake with a delirious appetite for Lestat.

“Wanna see you,” Louis tilts his head back against the door, remembering that he’s supposed to be hating the man in front of him. Lestat kisses Louis’ pelvis and stands in front of him. Louis shoves the black leather jacket off of him. It drops to the floor with a clunk. Lestat places both hands on Louis’ neck and kisses Louis so deeply that he forgets whatever he wanted to do next. Dazed, he simply gawks at Lestat, trying to restart his thought process. He feels like a deer in headlights. Lestat smirks and decides to help Louis by taking his cardigan off, along with his pants and shoes. He doesn’t wear any underwear, which has Louis foaming at the mouth, but also immensely curious at the same time.

“Why aren’t you wearing underwear?” Louis’ brows furrow. He grips Lestat’s tiny waist and spares a glance at Lestat’s weeping cock. Another detail about Lestat that God must have carefully crafted himself.

Lestat shrugs, “It is easier for times like this.”

“You think we were gonna fuck or somethin’?” Louis scrunches his nose.

“Non, mon cher. Not us.”

Louis knows that he absolutely should not feel this way, but a twinge of jealousy slithers its way into his chest. He glares at Lestat for being Lestat, and growls, pushing him backwards into the room. Of course his charming, beautiful, friendly, seductive self would assume that he was getting ass from someone tonight. Someone would give it to him, too, if Louis hadn’t brought him up here. Typical Lestat.

Lestat can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. It’s obnoxious and loud, according to Louis. Lestat breathes, “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Louis.”

Louis rolls his eyes and shoves Lestat roughly onto the king bed in the middle of the room. His silence is an answer in itself, one that Lestat is all too familiar with. Lestat crawls backwards on his elbows, giggling like a goddamn fool. He throws his head back, his blonde curls brushing against the fabric of the comforter. Any softness that Louis was overwhelmed with for Lestat has officially left the building. It was very short-lived. Lestat is laughing at him, mocking him.

Louis snarls, splaying his hand over Lestat’s chest, which continues to heave with thunderous amusement. He really cannot stop himself once he falls into these fits of laughter. Louis uses his other hand to wrap his hand around it’s favorite place: Lestat’s jaw. He yanks Lestat’s head forward forcefully, face mere inches away, “Stop fuckin’ laughing. It ain’t funny. Who were you gonna fuck, Lestat?”

Lestat whines shamelessly, his mirth not quite leaving his eyes. He paws at Louis’ chest, pinching Louis’ nipple playfully. Louis presses Lestat’s head into the pillow harshly at this. Lestat’s lips pucker and make kissing motions tauntingly, the giggles finally starting to come to a halt, “The woman at the bar. Do you want to know what I told her, Louis?”

Louis pinches Lestat’s nipple cruelly, twisting slightly. Lestat sobs with the action, enjoying it too fucking much. Louis should have known that Lestat enjoys acting like the biggest brat on the planet, should’ve known that Lestat would be getting off on his anger. Louis climbs over Lestat now. Their cocks brush against one another slightly, causing both of them to whine and buck simultaneously into one another. Louis selfishly wants to know whatever the fuck Lestat told that woman. The same woman that had the audacity to talk to Lestat earlier when the obnoxious blonde was buying a drink for him. Lestat wheezes, eyes fluttering, “Come, Louis, come closer.”

Louis leans in, their noses brush. He still teases Lestat’s nipple harshly. He grips Lestat’s jaw with so much force that the pale skin is turning red between his fingers. Lestat hums, “I told her about my - hah - my cock. It’s a vodka bottle.”

“What’d she say when you told her that?” Louis breathes heavily, his jealousy unreasonably raging out of control at this point. It is a vodka bottle, but she would not be deserving of it. Fury oozes throughout his stomach like acid, feeling nothing like what he’s felt for Lestat the entire time he’s known him. He really hates this unknown woman from the bar.

“I let her touch me there, to prove how right I am,” Lestat moans, tilting his head back in Louis’ grasp. He rubs his leaking cock against Louis’ again, just barely. He doesn’t have much room to move, seeing as he’s being melded to the bed with Louis weight on him. Louis rapidly blinks at Lestat, dumbfounded by the man’s audacity. Volatility and bile rise up in Louis’ throat at the thought of anyone else sleeping with Lestat tonight. The acid in his belly continues to flood into him full force.

“You think she would’a touched you like this?” Louis seethes above Lestat, hand tracing Lestat’s body lightly while making its way down to Lestat’s sensitive appendage. Lestat breathes out a laugh and nods his head, muscles seizing with anticipation. His eyes are glossy and wet, hands gripping the sheets subconsciously.

Louis grabs a hold of Lestat’s length and squeezes roughly. The air punches out from Lestat’s lungs while Louis’ thumb works his foreskin down. Louis spreads the pre-come over the head of Lestat’s cock, and Lestat writhes with desire, “Please, Louis, touche-moi. Le contact de cette femme ne se comparerait jamais.”

Louis pauses, hand around Lestat’s jaw inching towards the blonde hair that’s so easy to pull, “Oh, you want somethin’? Maybe you should go back downstairs and find that lady at the bar. Beg her to suck you off and swallow your come, hmm?”

Lestat’s eyes lock with Louis’ defiantly, the grin of a devil creeping up his mouth, “Maybe she is available, I can find out. I wonder if she would bring me to God, Louis. The same way I can bring him to you. I wonder if you could even bring him to me. She might have a tight cu-”

Louis snarls and yanks Lestat up by the back of his head. Lestat yelps when Louis sits on his knees over him, thighs on either side of Lestat’s body. Louis crushes his lips against Lestat’s violently, taking both of their soaking cocks into his hand and stroking them with abandon. Louis wraps his arm around Lestat’s neck, locking him to his face. Lestat’s hands pull at the skin on Louis’ back, causing him to wince. He only barely pulls away, mouth moving against Lestat’s while he snaps, “I’m gonna ride you - hah - and make you wish you would shut the fuck up instead of saying stupid shit.”

Drool drips down their chins as they breathe into each other’s mouths. Lestat moans loudly, shoving his forehead into Louis’. Louis continues to stroke them simultaneously, “Put your fingers in my mouth.”

Lestat obeys, shoving his index and ring fingers to the back of Louis’ throat. Louis continues to caress their cocks. He doesn’t gag, coating Lestat’s fingers with saliva before Lestat removes them with a squelch. Louis keeps eye contact with Lestat, voice lowering, “Open me up, salope.”

Louis lifts himself slightly, placing his hands on Lestat’s neck just as Lestat did earlier, which left him dazed. It appears to have a similar effect on Lestat, who whines at the loss of Louis’ hand on his member. Lestat’s audible gasp that follows sucks air from Louis’ mouth as his fingers fly towards Louis’ aching hole, caressing it. It flutters with want. Lestat rubs his fingers in circular motions, leaving Louis bucking into the blonde’s stomach. It doesn’t take very long to work one finger into Louis. He squeezes Lestat’s neck and kisses him less frantically than before. Their mouths sensually and slowly smack together repeatedly while Louis is worked open. Their tongues glide over each other’s bottom lips and along each other’s teeth, exploring territory that hasn’t been discovered by either of them yet. Lestat’s finger slides in and out of Louis rapidly. A fog clouds Louis’ vision and his mind turns to static.

Once Louis has been scissored open by three fingers, he pushes at Lestat’s shoulder and wraps his hand around the blonde’s cock once again. He rubs the head of it at his entrance, sinking down on it to seat himself slowly. Both Lestat and Louis sigh deeply while Louis takes his time, adjusting to Lestat’s intrusion. It really is a vodka bottle. Once he’s fully seated, he wraps one arm around Lestat’s torso and lifts himself up. Lestat’s gaze doesn’t leave his as he starts to really move. Lestat whimpers underneath him. Louis grunts, picking up the pace, riding with more vigor as time passes. Lestat closes his eyes, mouth falling open, tongue pushing at the back of his bottom teeth, “Louis, tu es tellement serré.”

“English,” Louis scolds Lestat, gripping his face in his free hand, “Look at me.”

Lestat’s eyes flutter open while Louis bounces on his cock. They’re glazed over, “You are so fucking tight, Louis. I am afraid I am not going to last-“

“You think she could ride you like this?” Jealousy flares up in Louis again while he interrupts Lestat. His nails dig into Lestat’s cheeks while he glares into piercing blue eyes. Sweat forms on their bodies while their chests meet, nipples rubbing together occasionally to cause delicious butterflies to explode in their stomachs.

Lestat’s lips twitch upwards while his hips meet Louis halfway. He pants and his voice is lower-pitched, “Maybe.”

Still a fucking brat.

Louis tips Lestat’s head backward, “Wrong. Open.”

Lestat does as he’s told immediately, maintaining eye contact while opening his mouth wide. Louis bounces faster while he gathers saliva in his mouth. He aligns it over Lestat’s, who sticks his tongue out greedily. Louis allows the saliva to drop from his tongue to Lestat’s, and finalizes the action by fully spitting. Lestat’s moans echo off of the walls. He swallows the spit as if he were dying of thirst in the middle of a desert somewhere.

Something in Lestat shifts after he swallows, brows furrowing, grip so tight that it becomes painful. He wraps his big hand around the back of Louis’ neck, shoving his face into Louis’ throat. The force of the bite he takes causes Louis to release a strangled scream. It dissolves into a sob very quickly, ending with a high-pitched whine. Louis’ rhythm falters, tears pricking his eyes as Lestat picks up his own pace, pounding into Louis’ hole. Louis can’t help but sit still and simply take it.

“Le jeu est terminé, Louis. Je vais te niquer si fort que tu ne te souviennes pas de ton nom. Te bourrer de ma bite jusqu’à ce que tu pleures, mon cher,” Lestat hisses, nipping at Louis’ jaw before flipping both him and his target over. Louis gasps, head sinking into the pillow behind his head as Lestat places his hands on the back of his thighs. He presses them backward so that Louis’ knees are beside his own chest. The sounds that release from Louis’ throat are animalistic, sounds that he’s never heard come out of his body before. He finds himself scrambling to hold onto something with his hands.

Louis wonders if the entire building can hear the obscene slapping of their bodies meeting with every relentless punch of Lestat’s cock and the wanton moans coming from both of their mouths. The blonde’s wild hair moves around his head like a halo, and Louis realizes with tears in his eyes that Lestat might actually stay true to his words from earlier. Louis de Pointe du Lac might actually see God himself. Lestat’s mouth grazes Louis’ calf before he leans down over Louis fully, purring, “Who is the slut now, Louis?”

“Fuck… Still… Still y-you,” Louis bites his lip to hold back his whine.

“You will learn, mon cher,” Lestat places a delicate kiss on Louis’ lips.

Lestat removes his blood-fat cock from Louis, who protests at the loss. Lestat’s hands wrap around Louis’ waist, flipping him over onto his belly. Louis’ mind is trying to remember when the fuck he became the rag doll in this situation. When did he relinquish control? Didn’t he hate him at one point? What does Lestat mean when he says that Louis will learn? He sees stars as he tries to think, but his brain has stopped being able to formulate a coherent thought. Lestat yanks Louis’ ass right into the air and inserts himself again. Louis’ eyes close. He can’t take anymore, he’s about to explode.

“Please,” Louis’ head presses into the mattress, mouth open and drooling onto the sheets profusely. His fingers ache with how hard they grip the sheets beside his body.

“Please, what?”

“Hah- I’m-I’m-“

Lestat quickens his pace, rubbing at Louis’ lower back softly, cooing, “Tell me, mon cœur.”

“I’m coming, Lestat. I’m fucking- hah,” Louis moans Lestat’s name over and over and over and over and over again. He feels his balls empty all over his stomach and the bed, cock completely untouched. His eyes see white as they clasp shut tightly, euphoria ripping from his heart. He feels Lestat shudder and release inside of him while whining a string of French words that are unfamiliar to him. They both pant, with Louis’ body going completely limp from exertion. He notices that his entire face is wet and that snot is falling from his nose as he lays there trying to gain semblance of what realm he’s currently in. Lestat removes himself from Louis, who winces at the feeling.

Louis’ eyes flutter closed and he tries to gather himself. He can’t seem to stop the tears that well up and pour out from his eyes. He blinks rapidly, “Jesus Christ.”

His voice is hoarse, feeling like he just screamed the lyrics to all of his favorite songs at the top of his lungs at a concert. Louis feels Lestat lay beside him and allows him to pull him onto his chest.

Lestat’s heart beats wildly, fingers stroking Louis’ cheek ever so softly, as if Louis hadn’t just been fucked into submission, “Are you okay?”

Louis continues to cry, body wracking with emotion while his breath feathers across Lestat’s chest, “I’m fine.”

“She would not have fucked me like you did. I would not have fucked her like I have just fucked you,” Lestat’s voice is small now after being so loud. The syllables that form on his lips are just a little more accented than usual.

Louis freezes, “You wouldn’t?”

“No,” Lestat huffs out a humorless laugh, caressing Louis’ jaw with his thumb, “I would have imagined she was you anyway if she had come upstairs with me.”

“What-“ Louis’ face scrunches in confusion, his hand inching to his face to slowly wipe the tears away. He feels his throat ache and tighten with emotion.

“I have never hated you, Louis, even if you have hated me… Even if you still hate me,” Lestat’s breath fans across Louis’ forehead. His voice is small, forgiving, gentle. An understanding washes over Louis, as if Saint Thomas Aquinas himself has come from the heavens and whispered in his ear a very obvious piece of information that he had always felt but never acknowledged. Something that he thought was complete and utter loathing for all of these years.

“I don’t hate you,” Louis murmurs against Lestat’s skin, curling inward. The tears in his eyes continue to fall steadily and he sniffles quietly, “I don’t think think I ever did.”

Lestat freezes, inhaling slightly. He presses his chin to Louis’ forehead and squeezes his shoulders, “You may not believe it, but… I love you, Louis. You are loved. I send my love to you, and you send it back ‘round to me.”

They sit in a comfortable silence, having passed a threshold into a place that Louis never expected to be in with Lestat. Tangled in each other’s limbs, they both ponder over Lestat’s words. That is, until Louis’ phone starts blowing up across the room. After the fourth call in a row, Louis assumes that whoever it is must be having an emergency. He shoves himself up on shaky arms, pushing away from the warmth of Lestat. Lestat stares at him with a tilted gaze, blinking fondly. Louis absently wonders if he’s dreaming, wobbling towards his phone in his discarded pants by the front door.

“Hello?” Louis answers raspingly without looking at who has called.

“Louis? Where have you and Lestat gone? We’ve saved two slices of cake for you and have picked the winners,” Armand’s voice seeps into his ear through the phone.

“Oh- uh, we’re,” Louis glances at Lestat, who quirks a brow. His hand rests on his stomach while he waits for Louis to return to him. Louis purses his lips, “We had to run upstairs… I forgot something, we started arguing... Lost track of time.”

“Oh?” Armand’s voice sounds pleased in an all-knowing way.

“We’ll be at your room in ten minutes,” Louis quips, hanging up on Armand. He twirls on his heel, “Do you think Armand knows?”

“The gremlin definitely knows,” Lestat sighs, “And though it might bother Daniel, we are not going to their hotel room.”

“We aren’t?”

Lestat smiles, “Not unless you want to explain what we were doing in here. Be my guest, mon cher.”

Louis nods his head in understanding. Yeah, they’re not going to Daniel and Armand’s hotel room tonight. He tosses the phone back onto the pile of clothes at the door and makes his way back to the bed. Back to the person that he doesn’t hate, but instead actually likes.