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The house was the last in a quiet one-way-street in Le Vésinet. I looked in the rear mirror, and saw the yellow-lit street behind me. It had rained earlier; Light flashed on the water on the ground like spilled diamonds, the moon was full and the sky was clear and black. My roof was open. There was a warm breeze, it smelled like rain and my freshly-detailed leather seats.
Armand had taste. The house sat on top of a luscious garden with old aspen trees in front, and the most beautiful flowers, neat hedges. There was a fountain in the lavish driveway, tiny fish spitting water up in the air.
I tossed the valet my keys as I pulled up to the front door. I was late, as late as anyone could be for an occasion as this. Dinner I’d missed.
I looked up. There was a balcony above the entrance. I was immediately sure that he’d seen me well before I’d seen him, but now that I had, I couldn’t look away anymore.
Louis was smoking, holding the cigarette between index and middle finger. His eyes were narrowed, brows knit together, lips pursed. He looked downright displeased to see me, which was all too exciting. There was no prettier sight in the world, for all I knew, than his face, pinched and pouting. He was dressed in red. I’d known he’d be here. I wouldn’t have come if it’d not been so. I smiled at him.
Oh, he scowled at me so angrily, but he didn’t turn away, didn’t even look away. All he did was tap his thumb to his cigarette. Ash fell down. He glared at me as he raised it to his lips, but he made no move to leave the balcony, so that I’d find him there. He was not subtle these days, standing right over the driveway.
There was music, but only distantly beyond all the noise of people talking. The foyer was packed full, and so was the adjacent room. Armand liked his quarterly dinner parties with as many guests as could possibly fit in whatever venue he chose.
"I thought you wouldn’t show," Armand said, coming up to me with a drink in his hand that he passed to me. He made a point to look at his watch. "It’s a dinner party, Lestat."
I flashed him a smile. "I didn’t come to eat," I said. "No offence."
He made a face. "I know," he said. And more sincerely, "You look good."
"Thanks," I said, glancing over toward the door to the staircase. "Now, if you’ll excuse me—"
Armand’s lips twitched upward in a smirk. I could see his perfectly white incisors, which could mean no good. "Not so fast," he said. "I’ve got someone to introduce you to."
"Must you," I sighed.
Armand looked positively thrilled now. "Yes, absolutely." He took me by the arm. "For my own amusement, yes."
I let myself be dragged across the room, toward a group of two women and an elderly man. "Daniel," Armand said, and let go of my arm. He smoothed his hand down my side in what was definitely not an incidental move. "This is my good friend Lestat de Lioncourt."
The elderly man stared at me, apparently just as displeased to be introduced to me as I was to him. He had curly white hair and was wearing a striped shirt with the top two buttons open. Tinted glasses.
"Lestat," Armand said. "This is Daniel Molloy. You two might see each other more often from now on."
I shook Daniel Molloy’s hand, confused.
Armand wasn’t finished. He was addressing me, "You see, Daniel’s a journalist and I’ve been working with him for the last months. But! Did you hear about how Louis’s switched jobs? He’s at Daniel’s company now."
I’d not heard about how Louis had switched jobs. It must’ve been a recent thing; I’d seen him for the last time a few months ago, and he’d never mentioned it. I’d spoken to him over the phone a few times since then.
I was also unsure why Armand was so keen on informing me about it, but I could tell there was something deeply amusing about it for him.
"Daniel," he said. "Lestat’s a very good friend of mine." I doubted he was aware that he was repeating himself. "We went to college together."
"Oh," Daniel finally spoke, and fixed me with a look. "You’re the ex."
I laughed. I wouldn’t go so far to say I was uncomfortable, but certainly even more confused. "I don’t think I follow."
Armand patted my shoulder. "Did Louis not mention Daniel? Do you two even talk anymore? I thought you were still friends?"
Daniel’s eyes were boring into me, and I finally grasped what was happening. Louis had always had a thing for older men, but this man must’ve been at the very least seventy.
"No," I said. "Never mentioned you."
Daniel said nothing. This was surely among the most uncomfortable conversations I’d had recently. This must’ve been terribly amusing for Armand.
"I really need to speak to you privately," I said, and grabbed his arm. "Daniel, it was a pleasure."
I dragged Armand away with me, and left Daniel standing there alone. The two women had sauntered off at some point.
"What the fuck," I asked when we were out of earshot. "Since when is he with this guy?"
Armand laughed. "Half a year, maybe longer?" He raised his brows. "Has he really never mentioned him?"
"He’s like a hundred." I frowned. "And we don’t talk anymore," I tacked on.
Armand cocked his head. "Of course not."
"Why would you introduce me to him?" I asked.
"For my own amusement," Armand said, and twisted his arm from my grasp. "The face you made."
I rolled my eyes. "Fuck you," I said. "Now, if you’ll excuse me."
He was laughing at me even as I made my way over to the staircase. Upstairs was less packed-full, and quieter. I found the door to balcony looking over the driveway.
It was a large balcony with some furniture. A table and a couple of chairs.
Louis’ cigarette glimmered orange. He was sprawled in one of the chairs, looking up at me as I stepped outside. I closed the door behind me with a click, and then it was quiet, the chatter and the music all muffled through the glass.
He’d taken off his jacket. The blouse he had on was white and nearly see-through. I couldn’t quite see what he wore underneath, because the light was dim, but I could tell that it was some dark shade of red.
"You’re way late," he said in lieu of a hello. That pinched look of displeasure was still on his pretty face.
I leaned against the balcony railing, back to the view of those aspen trees gently swaying in the summer breeze. "Well, I never come for dinner."
"You’re late, and then you keep me waiting all alone up here," Louis said softly. "Rude."
"Armand kept me," I said. "He, well, he introduced me to your boyfriend. How old is he, hm? Seventy? Seventy-five?"
Louis’ lips twitched from a pout into a downward arch. "Sixty-three," he said primly. "None of your business." He wrinkled his nose. "Don’t tell me you’re jealous."
I chuckled, and fished for the cigarette etui I kept in my pocket. I didn’t have a lighter. I held out my hand. "Do you mind?"
Louis’ teeth sank into his bottom lip, eyes flashing. He seemingly got prettier everytime I saw him, every couple of months when Armand hosted one of these parties. No other occasions. I couldn’t comprehend that there’d been a time where I’d been allowed to see him every day, wake up with him in my bed every morning. It had been a shitty relationship, but I missed it still.
"Come here," Louis said softly.
I walked up to him, until I was standing right in front of him. My shadow removed the warm glow from the streetlamps from him, and so there was only that glint in his eyes left, and a faint line of light from the hallway, right across his parted lips.
"Now what? Am I to reach all the way up there to light your cigarette for you?" he whispered, in a tone that suggested only the thought of it was disgusting and vile.
The thing about Louis was that he could make me do most of everything. Anything, really, if he asked. It was addictive, doing Louis’ bidding. I got to my knees very slowly, because this was what Louis had bid me to do. Never directly, for such a thing was seemingly below him, asking directly.
"Better," Louis whispered, and touched the orange tip of his cigarette to mine. He studied my face, now level with his, and smirked, a private little smirk that was both genuinely amused and mocking. "Did you miss me?"
I was very aware of that burgundy bralette he was wearing under that translucent blouse, and how thin of a fabric both items were made from. "Yes," I admitted. "Did you miss me?"
Louis reached to cradle my face in one palm. His nails were painted the same colour as that bralette, and they were long. They dug into my skin and he ran his thumb across my lips. "Did you come here only because you thought that there might be a possibility that I’d let you fuck me, hm?" he asked.
I sucked in a breath. "Yes," I whispered.
Louis scoffed and took a drag from his cigarette. I realised I’d only held my own uselessly between my finger since he’d lit it. "Am I supposed to find that sweet?"
"I really needed to see you," I whispered. Twenty seconds of his hand on me and I was close to begging him to let me touch him as well. "I missed your pussy so bad."
Louis’ breath came out in a huff. "You’re so pitiful, Lestat, oh my God." He tilted my head back a little, until the light from the hallway was in my eyes. "Fuck, you’re so—"
He trailed off, and pressed out the cigarette on the marble tabletop.
"If I told you I wanna see your dick right here," he whispered, "would you show me?"
I swallowed. I’d not really been aware up until now that we were in plain sight to anyone in the hallway, or anyone down in the driveway. "Yes," I said nonetheless.
"Get up," Louis muttered, and got up to step around me. He picked up his wineglass from the table.
I followed him down the hallway. There was a bathroom at the end. It was large and there was a big bouquet of white roses on the windowsill. I locked the door, while Louis leaned against the sink counter, sipping his wine.
"You didn’t answer my texts recently," I said.
Louis watched me with narrowed eyes. "I was busy."
"Sure," I said, and sauntered up to him. "With Daniel?"
"So you are jealous," Louis muttered, and trailed a few fingers along my shoulder. "Have you been working out more?"
I had. My eyes dropped down to his throat. That blouse of his was buttoned up all the way up to the collar. "Mh," I hummed. Louis tilted his head for better access as I opened one button after the next, all the way down to the top edge of the bralette.
"Enough," Louis whispered. He got a hand in my hair, and yanked rather harshly to drag me forward so he could kiss me.
He tasted like the wine he’d been drinking and like cigarettes. I grabbed his waist and he moaned when I licked into his mouth.
He yanked me back a moment later. There was a flush on his cheeks, all rosy and soft. His eyes were entirely black. He looked like he’d not eaten in days and weeks, ravenous. "Get on the floor," he hissed. "Don’t touch me."
I got on the floor, watched as he had another drink from his glass. He set it down, and worried at the thin silver cross-pendant necklace he was wearing. I’d messed it up while we’d kissed, the clasp to close it was in the front.
My mouth watered when he reached to open his pants. He tugged them down only a little. The panties matched the bralette perfectly. Just as thin and lacy. I swallowed and almost choked on my own spit when Louis pushed his hand into them. I could see his fingers move under the fabric, could see his jaw drop open, the way his lashes fluttered.
"Fuck, Lestat," he breathed, his free hand braced against the counter. "I wanna come so fucking badly."
"Please," I managed. "Let me—"
"Take off your shirt," Louis told me. "Don’t talk."
I struggled to open the buttons of my shirt in my hurry, but finally managed to wrench it off my shoulders. Louis whined and bucked his hips, knuckles near-white where he was clutching the counter. "Fuck, baby," he whispered. "Fuck, c’mere."
The waistband of those panties snapped against Louis’ belly when he withdrew his hand. "Please," I tried. I had to swallow to get rid of the amount of saliva in my mouth.
He grabbed my hair again. "Go on, Les."
He whined when I got my mouth on him, finally. Just over the material of the panties, but I yanked them out of the way the second he told me to. Louis made these very specific little noises when he was close, moans between hitched breaths. It was so, so difficult not to touch myself.
"Fuck," Louis moaned, shifting restlessly against my face. His grip on my hair was brutal. "Look at me."
I looked up blearily. He had his phone in his hand.
"Daniel’s texting me," he said between gasping breaths. "Asking me where I am. He’s— fuck, he’s looking for me, fuck, baby, don’t stop."
I groaned, fingers digging into Louis’ thigh. I could hardly breathe anymore, I couldn’t make myself stop long enough to do so. Louis came with a whimper, pushing against my face.
"Shit," he gasped, tugging me away after a moment. I finally sucked in some air.
He put the phone on the counter with a loud clatter. It was vibrating; Daniel was calling him. Louis was panting still, and reached for the wine again, finished the glass.
"Come up here," he said. "I wanna see your dick so badly, Les, come on, show me."
Again, I struggled with my own clothing, my belt and my pants, but I managed to get them open finally. Louis batted my hands away. I hissed through my teeth when he put a couple of fingers around the base of my dick, stroked them up once, with the loosest grip that he could’ve possibly managed. "Lou," I got out, voice strained and rough. He glared at me, and tucked two fingers under the foreskin, grazed his nails along the tip until I had tears in my eyes with how bad it hurt. I really couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so close after I’d been barely touched, it was embarrassing.
"Fuck," Louis muttered, studying my face intently as he did it over and over, first the nails and then the pads of his fingers, harsh and then gentle. My face was flushed red, and I could see myself in the mirror, staring with wide eyes. "Could you come from this?" Louis whispered.
He tucked down the foreskin entirely, and flicked his finger right against the spot that he’d been dragging his nails against.
I grabbed at the counter with sweaty hands and held on helplessly as I came mostly untouched on the bathroom floor, almost crying from how much it stung.
Louis was watching me with big eyes as I tried desperately not to actually cry. "God," he whispered, and gently tugged me to kiss him, soothingly rubbing his thumb over the scratched-raw spot on my tip. He kissed my cheek then, and then my temple, before he leaned to whisper in my ear, "And I didn’t even give you permission, baby, did I?"
I shuddered. "Putain," I said. "Sorry."
Louis smiled, and twisted his hand all the way up my dick. I choked on my breath, because it felt both very good and very painful. "Look at this," he muttered. "You’re so good for me, yeah, baby? Or did you, hm, not jerk off for like a month before this?"
"A week," I admitted, and dropped my forehead to his shoulder.
His phone was vibrating again. Daniel’s contact was a portrait of him, some professionally taken photo. Black-and-white, how fitting, I thought, so they’d already prepared one for the imminent funeral.
"Baby, c’mon," Louis whispered. "C’mon, I want your dick."
I pressed a kiss to the side of his throat, and grabbed him by the hips, moved him a bit forward on the counter.
Louis shuddered as I pulled him down on my dick, mouth falling open on a silent gasp. His hands scrambled against my chest. His eyes fell closed in bliss.
"Fuck," I got out. "Fuck, I love your pussy. Fuck, you’re so—"
"Les, just, I need— need it hard," Louis stuttered, bracing against the counter with an elbow as I laid him there, his legs wrapped around my waist.
I could see a bit of his belly, and the tremor in his thighs, how he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He was so, so beautiful, his lashes dark with black mascara fluttering, lids all twitchy, his fingers stuttering against the countertop.
"Lestat," he got out, voice high-pitched and trembling. I knew I was fucking him exactly the right angle with how he couldn’t lie still anymore, how his eyes flew open and his face flushed an even deeper red.
He wrapped a clammy hand around my wrist, tugged it up where he wanted my hand on his chest.
I felt delirious, like I was drunk or high, when I yanked that bralette down and finally got to suckle on Louis’ chest. It was disgusting, how much spit I left behind, how I couldn’t help myself anymore.
"Les, Les," Louis whined, tugging on my hand again. Toward his throat this time. I felt sick with how badly I needed to come.
It was terrible, how large my own hand seemed around Louis’ throat, the tiny silver cross-pendant digging into my palm.
"Inside me," Louis gasped hoarsely. "Need it. Les—"
He came so hard around me that I almost lost my footing, catching myself on the counter only so and knocking down both the wineglass and the phone.
Louis whined beneath me, legs wrapped around my waist like a vice. He scratched his nails down my chest once, hard. "Fuck, oh fuck, that’s good," I choked. I wouldn’t have managed to pull out anymore even if I’d wanted.
My ears were ringing after, and there were tiny glass shards everywhere on the floor. Louis was sprawled out over the counter. I noticed only now that I’d ruined the bralette, had snapped one of the straps off.
"Lestat," Louis whispered. "Oh my God."
I gently pulled out of him with a slick noise. White gushed out around his hole almost immediately. Louis batted my hands away and just pulled up the panties.
"Give me my phone," Louis whispered, voice all scratchy.
I bent down to find it, and also picked up my shirt, covered in shards that I shook out as best as I could.
I watched as he dialed Daniel’s number.
"Hi, honey," he said softly, and I messed up doing up my shirt buttons by one, and had to do it all over.
"Yeah, I wasn’t feeling so well. I left early," Louis was saying. "No, I’m okay now. Yeah, I’m home."
He looked at me, sucked his lip between his teeth.
"No, that’s fine. Tomorrow’s fine. I’m so tired I’ll just sleep anyways. I’ll see you then. Yeah, love you, too, good night." He ended the call, and huffed out a chuckle. "Fuck."
I managed to do up my buttons properly. I wet a hand towel and gently wiped at Louis’ chest, then between his legs. "I can do that myself," he said, "you can go." There was no real bite to it.
"Careful with the glass," I muttered as I helped him off the counter.
"We’re not doing this again," he said to his reflection, as he fussed about his face and hair in the mirror. "This was the last time."
He said that every time, and then he called me three weeks later to ask me to talk him through his orgasms.
"Sure," I shrugged. "Armand’s birthday’s coming up. I’m sure there’ll be some celebration."
Louis scoffed and decided the bralette was not salvageable. I could tell he wanted me to leave at this point, but was too polite to outright tell me to.
"Are you really with this Daniel guy now?" I asked, because I really couldn’t help myself.
Louis sighed. "You’re actually so jealous, aren’t you." He turned to look at me directly. "He’s good to me. Much better than you were. He makes me happy."
I snorted. "Of course. He’s like five hundred years old. What is he? Is he rich? Does he have a huge house? Huge dick? What is it?"
"Two out of three," Louis said, and rolled his eyes at my grin.
"At least I’ve got the one that matters most," I said, and Louis shook his head.
"I knew you’d say that," he muttered. "Men."
He finished tidying himself up and gave me a critical once-over, before he unlocked the door. "Clean this up before you leave," he told me with a glance to the floor. "You’ve made such a mess."
I could’ve very well left it and just went about my way, but I took some time to get every last tiny shard collected and put into the bin.