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It had been a long night.
Louis stared at his reflection in the mirror as if he was looking at someone else, his face washed out by the ring of bright LEDs that encircled the vanity, an uncomfortable beacon against the dark, claustrophobic bathroom walls. The interview was affecting him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Not a day had passed that he hadn’t thought about Lestat, if he was being truthful with himself, but to relive it all again in such vivid detail –
He adjusted the faucet so that the water would be as cold as possible, hissing at the chill as he splashed it onto his face. As he groped for his towel and dried his skin, he sensed someone behind him.
Armand lingered just outside the door. His face was schooled into neutrality, but Louis recognized the slightest furrow of his brow.
“I am fine, Armand,” Louis said to Armand’s reflection as he hung up his towel.
Armand took a step into the room. “Of course you are,” he replied plainly, his expression unchanging.
Louis turned, forcing himself to relax as he leaned back against the sink. “I just need to clear my head,” he admitted.
“I understand.”
The room was silent for a moment – long enough that Louis began to wonder if Armand might actually leave it alone. But then Armand closed the distance between them, pressing the full length of his body against Louis, trailing his hands around Louis’s waist and up his back as he brought their lips together.
Louis sighed into Armand’s mouth and tilted his head, pressing closer. Armand’s lips were soft yet firmly demanding, an echo of Armand’s own demeanor. Louis allowed himself to melt into the kiss, content to let Armand take the lead, to lose himself, just as he had lost himself on that first night that Lestat had drunk from him, a pleasure greater than anything he had ever known before, strong enough to blot out the voice in the back of his head screaming at him to run, that this wasn’t right, even when it felt so right…
His breath rushed out in a sharp exhale as Armand’s teeth sank into his earlobe, just shy of being painful. The heat that was beginning to simmer low in Louis’s hips raced up his spine, spreading warmth though his body as he traced his hands down Armand’s sides to grab a handful of Armand’s ass through his loose linen pants. Armand’s hips ground against him at the touch, and Louis could feel him getting hard against his thigh.
Armand stifled a moan, his breath hot against the shell of Louis’s ear as he whispered, “I want to taste you, my love.”
Please , Louis thought desperately. Armand backed away just enough to pull Louis’s shirt over his head before pressing impossibly close again, attacking the newly exposed skin with his lips and tongue and teeth as he moved lower, down onto his knees, letting his hands wander up Louis’s torso as he looked up at his face, swollen lips just barely parted, eyes brimming with something like reverence, something like prayer.
Louis’s heart leapt into his throat, constricting. He tore his eyes away.
Undeterred, Armand unfastened Louis’s pants and eased them down off of his hips, tossing them aside after Louis obediently stepped out of them. Armand dragged his tongue up Louis’s thigh before biting down hard enough to break skin. Louis’s head lolled back, his breath hitching as Armand lapped up the blood that gushed to the surface, moaning almost inaudibly against his skin. His fingers moved to tease Louis’s cock, fingertips tracing ticklish lines from base to tip and back again.
Louis groaned, his grip tightening on the edge of the sink. “Armand,” he groaned, “please.”
Armand pulled away, allowing the wound to begin healing, and smirked devilishly up at Louis. And suddenly he was swallowing Louis down, almost all the way to the base. Louis let out a surprised gasp. He could feel Armand’s lips pull into a self-satisfied grin around his cock.
Agonizingly slowly, Armand began to move, working along the length with his tongue, gradually warming himself up to take Louis deeper, pushing towards the back of his throat. Louis placed a guiding hand at the back of Armand’s head. His body shuddered with torturous pleasure, his legs twitching as he fought his instinct to move his hips.
Don’t fight it, said Armand’s voice through the fog in Louis’s mind as he took Louis as deep as he could go, looking up at him with a flash of something taunting in his red eyes.
A strangled moan wrenched itself from Louis’s throat. He pulled his hips back and then thrust forward slowly, carefully, watching Armand’s eyes squeeze shut in concentration as his cheeks hollowed. His left hand came to join his right where it was already tangled in Armand’s hair, grasping desperately at the strands to anchor himself as his hips began to move faster as if by their own accord, his eyes slipping shut.
A memory burst like fireworks into Louis’s mind. The dark curls laced between his fingers shifted into blonde waves, and the stark bathroom in Dubai fell away, replaced by the lavishly decorated parlor of that house on Rue Royale. Lestat was naked, on his knees on the plush Persisn carpet before him, sweat glistening over the muscles of his back, his hands grasping at Louis’s body in wild desire as Louis fucked his willing mouth. Louis’s loud cries mingled with Lestat’s low groans as–
Armand moaned needily around his cock, again and again, and Louis was tipped over the edge. His hips snapped forward wildly as he came into Armand’s mouth, his body doubling over, shaking, his hands twisting tighter in Armand’s hair as waves of pleasure crashed over him.
As his ragged breathing began to slow, Louis opened his eyes. His hands were still fisted in Armand’s hair, pulling his head back at an angle to expose the tendons pulled taught up the elegant line of his neck, throat bobbing as he swallowed. Armand stared up at him with a fiery mixture of defiance and lust burning in his eyes. Louis imagined him as Saint Sebastian, chin tilted back in ecstasy and reverence, body pierced through with countless arrows, blood running from his wounds in beautiful, garnet-coloured streams.
“Try it,” Armand growled, voice wrecked.
Louis was powerless to resist. He released his grip on Armand’s hair, allowing him to stand. Predatory instinct took over as he lunged forward, fangs elongating as he opened his mouth in a snarl, the full sharpness of his senses trained on the rushing blood in Armand’s veins.
Just before the last thread of rationality in Louis’s mind snapped, he realized with dawning horror that he had not been blocking his thoughts from Armand. That he had unwittingly shown Armand every excruciating detail of the memory of Lestat. He faltered, taking a step back.
Armand’s expression softened. “It’s alright,” he breathed, closing the distance to stroke his knuckles across Louis’s cheek. Soothing.
Louis exhaled carefully, as if he might break the tenderness of the moment.
“It’s alright,” Armand repeated, firmer. Something fiercely possessive flashed in his eyes. He slipped his hand to the back of Louis’s neck, the other gripping his bicep hard as he spun him around. His hand returned to Louis’s face, moving his chin to force eye contact in the mirror, before slipping two fingers between Louis’s lips, teasing the sharp point of a fang that hadn’t quite retracted with the pad of his index finger. “Just do not forget where you are now.”
A shaky breath escaped Louis at Armand’s words, at the feeling of him pressed against Louis’s back. He bit down on Armand’s finger, reeling with the intensity of it all — the sweet power thrumming through Armand’s blood as it dripped hesitantly into his mouth, the way Armand moaned through gritted teeth, hot breath ghosting Louis’s neck as his free hand traced over Louis’s body, his erection twitching and swelling back to full hardness against Louis’s ass.
Armand pulled away suddenly, tearing his fingers from Louis’s mouth. Louis all but whimpered at the loss. Armand made a show of carefully undressing, only taking his eyes off of Louis for the second it took to pull his shirt over his head, before taking a bottle of lube from the drawer.
With a firm hand on Louis’s back, Armand pressed him down so that he was bent over the sink, supporting himself on his elbows, legs spread. Louis could hear the plastic click of the bottle being opened.
“Do not look away,” Armand commanded. He circled Louis’s hole with a slick finger before pressing it inside.
Louis groaned as he fought the reflex to screw his eyes shut, doing his best to obey. A pleased grin pulled at the corners of Armand’s lips.
Armand held Louis’s gaze intently as he worked him with his fingers, tortuously slowly. Louis did his best to meet the challenge, even when Armand’s fingertips found the perfect angle, the exact spot that had him moaning shamelessly, writhing for more.
“I’m ready,” Louis said, answering a question that hadn’t been asked.
Armand smirked at the audacity of it.
Louis watched Armand in the mirror as he extracted his fingers and then pushed inside of him. Armand’s eyelids fluttered, eyes rolling back beneath them, breath hitching in his throat as he gradually went deeper until their bodies were flush together. He remained there for a moment, forcing his hips to stillness as he ran his fingernails up Louis’s back, just barely scratching the skin.
Please, Louis thought to him.
Keep your eyes up, came the answer in Louis’s mind. Armand grasped Louis’s shoulder with one hand and began to move, so quickly and so suddenly, that it almost sent Louis careening forward. He scrambled to find his balance again, clinging white-knucked to the edges of the sink.
Armand’s pace was punishing, rough and sweet and exactly what Louis needed. Louis’s mind went blank. Nothing existed except the heat of Armand inside him, hips slapping against him with every deep thrust, and the cold marble pressing too hard into his forearms. Louis’s brows furrowed, his mouth falling open as he cried out again and again. His eyes slipped shut, unable to stand the intensity any longer.
The moment Louis’s vision was covered by darkness, memories flooded into his mind. Memories that were not his own. They were in a cheap hotel room – the marble sink was now a bed covered in outdated floral linens, the mirror now a white wall yellowed by cigarette smoke. Daniel as a much younger man was splayed out on the creaky mattress, trembling hands grasping desperately at the bed beneath him, turning his head to muffle his moans into the stale tobacco scented sheets as Armand fucked him ruthlessly. His pulse was racing, blood beating beneath the fresh wounds on his neck and the healing track marks on his arm.
Louis was both watching the scene from Armand’s eyes and feeling it as Daniel, and he knew Armand was showing him this on purpose. His body tensed, a rush of tingling electricity bursting along every nerve – but whether it was from anger or jealousy or arousal, Louis was not sure. He grasped his own cock and began to stroke in time with Armand’s thrusts.
The images lingered like a too-bright light even when Louis opened his eyes, reflecting back at him in the mirror. Armand was beautiful as he fucked Louis, face slack with blissful pleasure, deep skin flushed and glistening with sweat, a few stray curls plastered to his face. And Daniel was beautiful in Armand’s memories, debauched and writhing, beads of blood traveling down his neck as he cried out, staring up at Armand with something like worship in his striking pale eyes.
Louis came with Armand’s next thrust, clamping down with a strangled cry, clinging desperately to the edge of the sink as he spilled into his own hand, shaking, gasping for air.
Armand moved faster, harder, losing control of his rhythm. He pulled Louis upright against him, biting hard into Louis’s shoulder, before pulling out suddenly.
On your knees, he demanded into Louis’s mind.
Louis scrambled to obey, kneeling before Armand. He absently wiped his palm on the nearest piece of discarded clothing, far beyond the point of caring.
Armand tilted Louis’s head back, holding him there as he began to stroke himself rapidly, staring down his nose at Louis with the arrogance of a king. Mumbled strings of curses in a multitude of languages tumbled from his lips between moans and ragged breaths. Every muscle in his body tensed, trembling.
Armand grit his teeth and then came with a gasp, spilling hot and viscose onto Louis’s face. He rode out his orgasm with erratic thrusts into his hand before his knees buckled and he collapsed into Louis’s arms.
Warmth overflowed in Louis’s chest as he held Armand tight. Armand’s forehead came to rest on Louis’s shoulder, right at the junction with his neck, as his breathing slowed to normal. Louis ran a hand up and down his spine with devotion and admiration and a resentful sort of love.
Wordlessly, Armand extracted himself from Louis’s embrace. His hair was a wild mess from sweat and his own come that had transferred from Louis’s skin and from Louis’s earlier rough handling. He began straightening up, gathering their clothes into the laundry basket and arranging fresh towels from the linen closet, meticulous, not unlike the role of hired help he had been playing.
Louis wondered for the briefest moment if Armand would want to talk about it, before he nearly laughed at the absurdity of the thought.
Armand started the shower. “Come, my love,” he said, extending a hand to Louis, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Louis smiled at him warmly, but he felt miles and miles away.