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Armand won the auction. Not for a lack of trying on Louis’s part. He was happy to keep going, to continue upping the price more than the damn thing was probably worth simply because of the thrill it sent soaring up his spine; a reminisce of a familiar dance the two of them used to share.
It wasn’t easy coming to terms with but Louis had always, for the most part, been aware of the imbalance that existed between him and Armand. He didn’t like acknowledging it much during their time together. Rather, Louis chose to believe he had the means to remedy the imbalance between them.
For a while, it did feel that way. Armand helped cultivate the fantasy, too. He made it known just how willing he was to drop to his knees before Louis, and he did so beautifully too. Licking his boots, tending to his every need, no matter how miniscule; how was he not meant to indulge it? To not get lost in the fantasy, or to believe in its validity?
Later, Louis would learn that it wasn’t something set in stone.
Only when hot and convenient, the familiar words echoed through his head. Grating the way Daniel’s voice could be when he was right about something and unafraid to gloat about it.
Louis turned in his seat, feeling the weight of his former companion’s gaze. Where there were once two eclipsed moons, Louis only found one boring into him. Armand didn’t appear very concerned over the fact that Louis caught him looking again. It wasn’t like he could hold it against Armand anyway. Not when Louis always ended up looking right back at him.
Where his other eye would be, now laid concealed by an eyepatch, one that went well with the dark fabrics he adorned himself with. It shouldn’t work for him.
It did.
Louis’s own gaze narrowed into a glare, perhaps one with not much heat in it, given the smirk that ghosted along Armand’s lips in return. A subtle way of rubbing his victory in Louis’s face.
A stolen victory, he should say. The abruptness in which Armand’s bid was called and the music box was declared sold, despite Louis’s raised fingers, gave it away.
Cheater, Louis conveyed into his head.
I don’t know what you mean, came the response. Smug with the obvious intention of getting under Louis’s skin.
It was working. Louis hated that it was, especially ‘cause he knew he was giving Armand exactly the reaction he was seeking; showing him that for better or for worse, he still had an effect on Louis.
Louis huffed out a laugh, disbelief ridden as he rose to his feet. Much like Armand’s eye patch, Louis’s cane served as quite the accessory to his attire. In a way it felt natural, probably the most human Louis’s felt in a while.
He made his way out the double doors of the venue, entering the empty foyer save for the security guards stationed at each entrance. Louis didn’t have to look over his shoulder to confirm it. He could feel Armand’s looming presence trailing behind him, could hear the lightness of his steps, following Louis as if it was inevitable. Because really, it was never a question of whether he would.
Subconsciously, it must’ve been what Louis set out to do. To neutralize the imbalance. To take the reins into his own hands and pretend they’d always been there. No, Louis’s gifts could not compete with those belonging to Armand, who managed to wager the auction in his favor without much effort. But this he could do; he could have the devil trailing after him without having to ask; could have him eating out of the palm of his hand, too, if he so desired.
The restroom was empty. Louis pushed past the entrance and made his way towards the sink. His reflection stared back at him as he turned on the faucet. The very same reflection he’d been seeing for over a century. Never changing, never aging. That must be why he didn’t mind the cane or the prosthetic much. It was something different Louis could see in his reflection for the first time in a hundred and fifteen years.
The restroom door opened with a creak, followed by Armand’s languid entrance. He approached, settling in front of the faucet beside Louis’s. He performed impassiveness by running a hand through his curls, staring straight ahead at his own reflection as he adjusted his hair to his liking. Louis watched him through the mirror, once again, annoyed by how good he still looked.
Louis broke the silence, unable to help it. “Don’t you got a hefty bid to tend to?” he said, a twinge of bitterness still looming over the stolen win.
Not only had it been stolen, it was unexpected. Louis didn’t see it coming at least. This wasn’t how they normally played.
Armand locked eyes with him through the mirror, a sly smirk easing up on his face. “Better luck next time.” His gloating was subtle, but it was there. In turn, Louis was struck with an overwhelming need to remind him of his place.
It happened before Louis could rationalize what he was doing. His fingers clutched onto the nice fabrics of Armand’s dress shirt and shoved him against the restroom door. The action stirred a twinge of discomfort within his leg. The motion had also been so quick, it sent Louis’s cane tumbling, the sound echoing through the empty restroom.
“You ain’t doing this right,” Louis huffed in annoyance.
At first, Armand gasped from the impact, from the initial shock of feeling Louis’s form pinning him against the door. Then the corner of his mouth twitched and the eclipse in his eye returned, an expression similar to the one he’d worn when his bid had been called.
“Aren’t I?” He questioned with the slight tilt of his head, goading.
Bastard.
So, Louis kissed him to wipe the smirk off his face. At least, that was what he told himself, acting as if the urge hadn’t been there since he first felt the man’s presence a few rows back, the weight of his gaze piercing through him.
The kiss was urgent. Too urgent to be punishing like Louis set out to make it.
His hands cradled Armand’s face with the intention of keeping the man in place to his liking, for him to take it.
Armand took it, welcoming the kiss by parting his lips, and inviting Louis to take more, to take him. He moaned, clutching at Louis’s shoulders to pull him impossibly closer. Desperate as always, even when Louis was upset with him. Or rather, especially when Louis was upset with him, he should say.
The sweet slide of their lips felt like a slap in the face for Louis; a cruel reminder that no matter how angry Louis could get, part of him would always enjoy the act of kissing Armand, of rendering him into this: a shivering body, weakened by the simple act of kissing him.
Louis broke the kiss and stared up at the darkened eye staring down at him, breathing hard against his face. It was Louis who carried a bit of smugness in his smirk now. “There’s people outside.” He could hear the dispersing crowd heading out into the foyer.
It thrilled him how he didn’t need to say anything else. Armand turned his head slightly, the lever clicking without either of them having to remove their hands off one another. Louis made a sound of content, lips forming scattered kisses along where Armand’s jaw and neck met. He felt his former companion shudder once more, his breath becoming ragged.
His fingers continued to trace the soft cheekbones, brushing lightly against the cloth that covered the right side of his face. He felt Armand’s breath quiver in response and Louis was left with an overwhelming hunger as he retraced the path with his thumb, inching closer to the eye patch. He heard Armand let out a quiet gasp.
Fuck. Louis hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but being this close to Armand made it inevitable to notice. He could smell the wounded eye socket, could smell the blood that pooled underneath the swollen tissue.
He hadn’t seen the wound yet; hadn’t even realized it was something he wanted to see, to pick, poke, and prod at with his fingers, his tongue… not until this very moment.
Louis’s thumb trailed along the edge of the eye patch again. This time, however, he allowed his finger nail to slip underneath the cloth, grazing his eyelid. Armand flinched, head jerking away from Louis’s bruising kisses.
It dawned on Louis then that it wasn't just Armand that was breathing hard, he had been too.
Armand’s left eye was wide, scandalized. A reaction he gave because it’s the expected one; because it’s how their dance went. “Louis,” the man exhaled, gaze shifting into star stricken and eager. Practically begging him to do it: to rip the eye patch off, to take him as he was.
God, did he want to.
Louis knew Armand would let him, too.
Worse, he’d enjoy it. And that wasn’t what this was supposed to be right now. Louis wasn’t supposed to be thinking about how fucked up they were; he wasn’t supposed to be reminded that despite all his faults, no one else but Armand would indulge him like this nor want it just as bad.
“Please,” Armand had never been above begging. His grip on Louis’s shoulders tightened, drawing him back in. “I want you to.”
And really, it would be so easy to get swept up by the fantasy.
Louis lunged towards his mouth again and Armand kissed back with more ferocity. It didn’t cease. Not even when Louis pulled back to undo his belt, fingers rushing towards his zipper. “Oh, you want me to, hm?”
Rather than answering, Armand kept kissing any patch of skin he could find, kept pawing at whatever part of Louis’s body he could get ahold of; almost like he was making up for lost time.
Louis didn’t let the press of hungry lips upon his sensitive skin lull him back into the fantasy. While one hand slipped underneath the ban of Armand’s pants, another grabbed a fistful of his curls, drawing him close. “And I was really lookin’ forward to a fair auction,” Louis exhaled, mouthing along the arch of Armand’s nose as he spoke. “Guess we both ain’t getting what we want.”
Then, Louis’s fingers toyed with the tip of Armand’s cock.
The noise Armand let out was pathetic, yet it was music to Louis’s ears; one that filled him with gratification Lous hadn’t realized he’d been after all this time.
He felt Armand’s cock stir to life in his hand and before long, Armand’s weight felt like a blanket cast upon Louis. He burrowed his face into Louis’s neck, panting and kissing along his flesh. With his thumb, Louis spread Armand’s arousal over his girthy length. Having Armand in his hand after all time woke a deep hunger in Louis, one he tried to keep at bay.
“L…Louis,” Armand whispered into the side of his throat, his broad form trembling against Louis’s. “Your hands…” he choked as Louis quickened the speed, hips rising with pathetic, little thrusts into Louis’s fist.
Louis hummed, trying to stay grounded; to be unaffected. “You think you deserve it? After the little stunt you just pulled?” He kept his voice even, not allowing his own desperation to seep through.
Armand’s head shifted from side to side against Louis’s form. He knew he wasn’t worthy. That didn’t stop his pleading, though.
Age had always been the obvious factor when it came to the imbalance in their abilities. Then, of course, there was the influence of their dietary differences. So, no, it wasn’t hard to notice that outside of when it was hot or convenient, Louis never truly had full control of the reins of his own life. Armand rigging the auction to his favor with his abilities had been a cruel reminder of the fact.
Maybe that’s why Louis led him to the restroom, why he had Armand panting into his neck, and rendered his form damn near weightless against his own. Because seeing Armand disheveled evened the imbalance. It made up for the power and control Louis never actually had.
And yet, it was proving to be quite a challenge resisting the allure of their old dance. With Armand pressing worshipful kisses along his skin and his hands drawing out shivers while they touched Louis as if he was too good to be true, Louis could feel himself getting sucked back in.
Louis’s claws curled around the back of his head, dragging his face up. Armand did not let the redirection deter him, instead he continued kissing up Louis’s jaw and the side of his face.
“You close, baby?” Louis nibbled on Armand’s ear lobe, feeling the man pulsate in his hand the quicker he jerked him off.
In response, Armand could only chant his name in prayer into his head.
Louis.
Louis.
Louis.
Louis found that he liked the utterance of his name better, especially when spoken with the reverence Armand held for him like this.
Having their faces so close again, prompted the scent of Armand’s wound to envelop Louis’s mind. His mouth parted, feeling the itch within his gums become unbearable. He felt his former companion shiver in anticipation, seemingly having read his thoughts, which only roused Louis’s hunger.
Armand really would let him. That’s what made the temptation all the more difficult to ward off…
He couldn’t. Indulging into something they both wanted wasn’t part of the punishment.
Armand lifted his hips with more urgency, a desperate whine being muffled into the patch of Louis’s skin that he kissed. Louis could feel him teetering along the edge.
Almost there.
Louis gave his cock one final pump, just the one before reaching the finish line, and he released hold off his pulsating length. Then, he peeled Armand off his buzzing form and had him clashing back against the door; a look of pure puzzlement consumed his expression, before the widened eye turned to one of torment.
“Louis?” he questioned, hesitance lingering among his disheveled build while Louis turned back towards the mirrors above the sinks and collected himself. He felt Armand follow his every move, the confusion beginning to wear off as the frustration settled. Louis ignored him the entire time, refusing to meet his gaze.
Once he deemed himself presentable, he bent down to retrieve his cane, before heading towards the door. Armand still laid against it, completely disoriented and without a trace of any smugness left on him.
Good.
“You’re in my way,” Louis said, coolly.
Armand blinked. Slowly, he removed his body from the door and allowed Louis to exit.
Despite the ease that Louis painted on his expression as he left the restroom; despite the haughtiness he reclaimed and exuded, Louis was unable to mask the rapidness of his beating heart. He hoped Armand was too startled to notice.