Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

There’s not much that Daniel can truly say about Lestat.

Lestat is an odd sort of enigma, completely separate from the vampiric race. He’s a vampire rockstar, a brat, and honestly? A pain in Daniel’s ass. Lestat’s over twice his age yet acts like he’s half of it. Sure, his mind was mentally stunted at the age he was turned, but come on, mentally 30-something and he doesn’t have any concept of time management? Piss off, that’s just ignorance.

Which is why Daniel’s angrily stomping through the back corridors of the concert hall they’re currently at. Humans part as he approaches them, pressing themselves up against concrete walls that seem to sweat due to humidity. As he passes, they group back together and whisper. It’s always the same ‘oh that’s the geriatric writer Lestat based his character off’ or ‘that’s Daniel Molloy, he writes vampire erotica’ or ‘is that Lestat’s sugar daddy?’. It doesn’t bother him much anymore. He heard it at the last venue, he’ll hear it again at the next.

But, for the record, because actually it does bother him; no, Lestat is not a made up character. I’m contractually obligated to tell you that. No, I don’t write vampire erotica. Louis made the details, I just transcribed it — it’s different. No, I am not Lestat’s sugar daddy. If anything, he’s mine. I’m pretty sure he’s a bigger multimillionaire than I am. Now fuck off.

Predictably, Lestat’s twenty minutes late for his own concert, probably pushing his eccentric frilly chest up against a warm human like a male peacock. He’s probably feeding on them too, fangs sinking deep into their skin, pulling blood from deep within their core, sifting through memories as endorphins rivalling a constant orgasm shoots up his spine. He can picture it now, the rush of blood as Lestat cradles his neck. Fuck, when did they turn into he? What is he thinking? He knew he should have fed. Fuck Lestat, fuck this job, he should just go home. And yet, Daniel continues walking.

They’re in Corvallis, if he remembers correctly. It might not be. Daniel’s been having trouble with his memory lately on account of a very specific bug eyed lemur looking vampire — name beginning with an A. Recently, he’s been recalling a couple of concerning memories where his — ugh, Daniel hates to say it, it makes everything feel too real — maker has him pressed down on silk sheets, coaxing animalistic sounds from his lips. Thankfully, with the help he’s had from Lestat regarding the Mind Gift, he’s kept his memories sealed up well enough that Lestat and Louis only know briefest of details regarding their past together. Daniel’s not a perfectionist, so as long as they’re away from prying French prodding and soft Creole hands that touch him with regret and something fond Daniel doesn’t have it in him to unpack, he doesn’t care.

Daniel’s eyes zero in on Lestat’s dressing room door, donned with obnoxious feathers and a light up neon sign that reads ‘Lestat de Lioncourt’, as if everyone and their grandma doesn’t know he’s performing tonight. Actually, the whole population of Corvallis could be at his concert, but Lestat wouldn’t know, because he can’t get his ass out the dressing room long enough to greet the fans screaming through the walls.

Daniel grits his teeth, cursing the erratic man’s taste as feathers dust up against his nose. He barges in unceremoniously, hand pressed up against the dark wood door, opening his mouth, words like vitriol aching to slip between his teeth. The sight of Lestat, however, stops him in his tracks. The scent of blood hits him like a wave crashing to shore, knocking him back. Daniel’s nose scrunches up, sniffing into the air like a hound catching a scent. Every breath is thick with blood, as if it’s coating his tongue, even though he knows that’s impossible.

Lestat stands across the room with his back to Daniel, just a couple inches away from a velvet, purple sofa. He’s wearing what seems to be a pink satin buttoned shirt with a matching corset over the top and some loose beige trousers that frame his ass wonderfully. In Lestat’s grasp is a short woman, her thin fingers clutching at the skin on the back of his neck, stiletto nails doing their best to bite into impenetrable skin. Lestat’s back heaves as he drinks from her in large gulps. The sound of her blood leaving her veins roars out into the room, audible to Daniel even as he’s a couple meters away. It’s intoxicating.

Only when her skin is seconds from turning a pale colour, does Lestat pull back. Un petit coup, or something like that, Daniel doesn’t remember. His fangs slip from the woman’s neck, a slick sliding sound that urges a punched noise from Lestat’s bloodied lips. Daniel can only just see the ecstasy on his face as he lets the blood settle hot in his stomach, warming him up from the inside. The woman, she lets out a sound cross between a whimper and a moan, legs jelly as she falls into Lestat’s scarred, sculpted pecs.

He pets her head, whispering soft words in her ear as she gathers herself, legs locking beneath as she tries her utmost to avoid falling. It almost looks domestic, but Louis has described Lestat as a giving lover even if it’s just for something as simple as a feeding, so it doesn’t exactly ring any infidelity alarm bells. It does, however, make Daniel’s blood boil. Daniel pity’s her. He’s envious of him; he’s envious of her.

When she’s no longer feeling the worst parts of blood loss, all of which Daniel knows too intimately, Lestat turns to look at him. His head is thrown back, turned unnaturally to meet his eyes, exposing the strong expanse of his pale neck. Daniel’s fangs threaten to drop, the sight almost drawing him in. He really should’ve eaten before this.

“I heard what you said about my door, Danielle,” Lestat muses. The sly smile on his lips betrays that he heard a lot more than Daniel’s mental raving about the chosen decorations of his dressing room. Daniel doesn’t even want to know what he heard, the humiliation of hearing his own words out loud, the ones confided in the safety of my own head — Lestat laughs, still listening in, the bastard — being too much.

“Cranky tonight, aren’t you mon mignon,” Lestat says, “have you fed yet? No? Pity.” The blonde drags his hand down the expanse of the woman’s back, just barely skirting her ass. Again, bastard. Daniel grits his teeth.

“Okay man, back up,” he says, not falling for the bait. Lestat frowns, hands hiking back to her shoulders, respectful. “You know Louis is gonna get pissed off if you start pulling that shit again. I can’t keep playing mediator between you two, you’re exhausting together,” Daniel admits, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

The bustling sounds of outside are muted now, his vampiric hearing getting a well needed rest from the assault they’re usually battered with. Lestat turns himself dramatically to face him. The woman’s hanging off his hip now, hands clutching weakly at Lestat’s satin shirt. His arm is wrapped loosely around her waist as he watches Daniel with twinkly eyes. Lestat’s eyes graze over the young fledgling as he saunters further into the room, admiring.

“You know, Danielle, you are just the person I wanted to see,” he says, sultry, almost seductive. It makes Daniel pause, standing stock still, dumbly, with his arms limp by his side.

“That’s never good,” Daniel bites out, eyes watching carefully for Lestat’s next step.

“Please,” Lestat says as he waves his unoccupied hand noncommittally, grinning like a predator about to pounce, “remove yourself from that negative American mindset and focus on the positive.”

There’s a pause, dragging on longer than it should. Daniel breaks the silence. “Which is?”

“You’re in my dazzling presence, of course,” Lestat says gleefully, spinning around with the woman still gripping him, arms splayed out by his sides as if he expects people to jump out from nowhere and explode with applause, terms of endearment and idolisation. The woman nearly falls, but Lestat’s hands catch her clothes, willing her upright. Daniel stays silent, only moving to pinch at the bone between his eyes, the pads of his fingers then slipping out to cross over his eyes, self soothing.

“Okay. Get the fuck out,” he groans.

The woman freezes against Lestat, pulling her face from his chest to meet Daniel’s blazing eyes. His iris’s switch from their natural blue to his makers burnt orange — not that she can see it though, she wears glasses and he looks very blurry to her. A part of himself curses at letting his irritation get the better of him. But, being turned as a bitter old man wishing for death doesn’t suddenly endow him with a shining, award winning personality in the not-so-after-afterlife.

Lestat sighs. He whispers something to the woman again, something about praising her for her exquisite blood and pliancy, but Daniel doesn’t bother to listen in. She smiles at him, kisses him softly on the cheek, then stumbles her way out the room. As she passes, her hand grazes against Daniel’s forearm, steadying herself as she starves off the dizziness, before slipping away as if she’d never been there at all. The only tell she’d ever stepped foot in the room was the overpowering scent of blood and the small welling of red liquid in the corner of Lestat’s lip.

“Bye-bye, ma petite,” he hums after her with a small wave.

Then, the carefree mask Lestat usually wears falls away and Daniel’s met with a different version of the vampire he’s become acquainted with over his tour. His shoulders droop and eyebrows upturn as he looks to the ground, foot dancing against the floor in an attempt to look sheepish. Daniel tries to hold back against inquiring, but it’s hard to stay mad at Lestat — either the rockstar is a really good actor or his old age has finally begun to wore him down.

“Ah,” Daniel says, hand threading through the curly, salt and pepper hair atop his head. Truly, just what he needed, melodramatic Lestat. He sighs deeply then asks the dreaded question, “what’s wrong?”

Lestat lights up at the attention, then throws himself bodily down on the couch, the pinnacle of dramatics as he rests a hand over his forehead, feigning wooziness. “I miss my Saint Louis!” He exclaims, voice teetering off in a high note.

Daniel lets himself crack a smile which thankfully goes unnoticed by Lestat. “Louis is on his way. You saw him less than a day ago. You know he has his… real estate, painting, whatever that he needs to upkeep,” Daniel backs his maker-that-stepped-up, coming over to the back end of the couch to stand over Lestat, “he’s literally on the plane over.” Lestat groans, unhappy. “You know, if you get on stage, time will pass a lot faster and he’ll be sitting in that VIP box before you know it.”

“But what a waste that would be! How could I sing my songs without my muse, my Louis, who every song I’ve ever written is about!”

“You sure? Could have sworn one of those was about a certain maker of mine…” Daniel teases, hands in his pockets, fighting the grin that threatens to break out on his wrinkled face.

Lestat sits up and turns around in a singular moment, so fast Daniel’s eyes almost miss it. His eyebrows furrow at the fledgling. “Why are you here Daniel?” He asks.

“Oh, so it’s serious now, is it? I’ve been reduced to Daniel?” He rolls his eyes. Lestat just continues to stare at him, a vein on his forehead bulging. Daniel will never get used to the rockstars dramatic changing in emotional state, and the whiplash that comes from them. “Alright,” Daniel says, holding his hands up in surrender, “you were supposed to be up twenty minutes ago. Christine’s just spent about ten of those ripping me a new one, cursing at me for you not being on stage. I haven’t even done anything!” The tension bleeds from Lestat’s face as Daniel continues to ramble, “why’s Christine not scared of us at all? She almost kicked me you know, what’s her deal?”

“I believe that’s when you’d usually say ‘pot calling the kettle black’ Danielle. Did you forget how you slapped my Louis in Dubai?” Lestat asks, leaning against the couch, now on his front. His arms bracket the back of the furniture, hands cushioning his chin as his legs spread out mermaid-like on the rest of the couch.

“That’s—! That’s different. I was- am old and she’s barely thirty-five,” he says, then pauses, “wait, he told you about that?”

Lestat giggles, blonde eyelashes fluttering up at Daniel, enticing. “Christine is a force to be reckoned with. She is a wonderful assistant, I enjoy her freshness,” he concludes, sighing.

“Yeah, ‘till she tells you what to and then you’re pissed at her.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but Daniel can see the way his brain stutters. There’s nothing more exhilarating than outwitting Lestat, it never grows old. “Touché. Nevertheless, I am The Vampire Lestat, I make my own rules,” he exclaims, Daniel knows his chest is puffing though he can’t see it.

“Sure The Vampire Lestat, now can you get up on stage.”

“But Danielle, my little friend has yet to settle,” Lestat says, sitting up and leaning back enough that Daniel can see the tent in his jeans.

Daniel’s not sure how he didn’t notice it until now. The scent of desire is heavy upon Lestat’s skin, dancing off him and straight to the fledglings nose like a drug. He can smell the blood precum slipping from the head of Lestat’s cock. Suddenly, the minimal amount of blood he has in his system is roaring down below, and Daniel’s about two seconds away from tackling him and shoving him to the ground, if only to get the tiniest taste of that tantalising nectar on his tongue.

Yeah, fledgling libido is no joke. It’s like an itch under his skin that can never be scratched, apart from by another vampire. Sometimes even trying to scratch that itch alone causes an explosion of blood cum from the dick that he didn’t even touch. He’s an old man for crying out loud, he isn’t supposed to be able to get it up anymore. He’s severely neglected in that area, in what’s supposed to be one of the most sexually charged years of his entire un-life. It sucks because, even though the fact he’s a vampire now, Daniel hasn’t fucked or been fucked for what has to be the better part of two decades.

It’s not like he can go to anyone though. He’s public enemy number three, on account of Lestat and Louis being before him, and if vampires approach him, they’re more angry at him than horny — though, those often overlap for Daniel. It doesn’t help that he refuses to be with humans. He had tried it once in the first year, of course he did. Until he lost his mind at the overpowering sensation of a hand touching his cock and killed the poor guy. In truth, he never really got over the death. It doesn’t help that the guy was a paler proxy of his maker. He definitely wasn’t desperate enough — he’s getting there — to ask Louis or Lestat to satisfy help satisfy these urges — he’d let them if they offered.

So, the sight of Lestat before him, reclined back to expose himself, is almost too much to bear. His blood pumps that little bit faster under his thin skin, eyes trailing down the body he’s unfortunately not had the pleasure of sinking his teeth into. He’d gotten close once, during a messy feeding where Lestat had watched him drain a man to the verge of death due to his overeager appetite, but nothing since then. Louis hadn’t either. He was neglected in all areas.

So, as much as Daniel would love to, he doesn’t want to be another person Lestat will enviably bed. Solely for the reason that it’ll cause him to fall onto Louis bad side, and he really doesn’t want that. A desperate, younger fledgling part of himself needs Louis to be the only constant in his life. He needs to stay tethered to someone, however unqualified they may be, in the absence of his maker.

“Great. Just great,” Daniel says, his tone unable to settle on an emotion, bouncing between annoyance and poorly disguised amusement, “I’m sure the fans will love that even more, they’ll probably ogle at ur small dick and wonder how it tastes in their mouth!”

“So graphic, le ridé!” Lestat teases, inclining his head back, “are you sure these are not your own perverted thoughts?”

“You fucking wish they were.”

“And you know it’s not petite,” he continues, ignoring Daniel’s bait, the fucker, “you’re deflecting. Oh, I see. I cannot imagine how pent up you must be. No maker… no companion… no one to show you the ropes of vampiric pleasure. Oh I remember my Saint Louis’ first years of vampirism. He was such a rowdy fledgling, always jumping on me, smothering me with his undying lust. We spent days in the coffin, learning the most vulnerable parts of each other, only leaving to feed. It must be unbearable for you, Danielle.” He rises onto his knees, reaching up to wrap a hand round the soft curve of Daniel’s waist.

“Oh yeah, and who better to show me the ‘ropes of vampiric pleasure’ than a 1700’s French whore, right?”

In the blink of an eye, Lestat has advanced on Daniel, no longer on the couch, but climbing over to stand behind it, inches from Daniel’s face. The hand around his waist clutches him harder and the other reaches down to cup at the fledgling’s growing bulge. The contact is so firm and almost dangerous with the way Lestat’s nail skirt his jean zipper. His hands instantly rise to grip at the rockstars shoulders as a shuddered breath leaves his lips. His toes curl in his shoes and his arms tense, not pushing away but not letting him come any closer.

“You’re hard Daniel,” he says, the admission heavy in the air.

“Even a stiff breeze could get me up these days Lestat. You and your scarred tits aren’t anything special for me. Don’t let it go to your head,” Daniel says, forcing the words out of his mouth, feeling Lestat’s breath ghost down his face. Still, he’s pointedly staring at his tits, inches from his face. He rips his gaze away, looking up. Daniel hates that he has to look up at him. He’s not even taller, they’re the same height, the vampire is just wearing black shoes with a huge wedge.

“There’s no need to lie Danielle, I’ve already heard how sweet you were for my Louis, why not for me?” Lestat asks, hand on his hip rising to caress softly at Daniel’s cheek, tracing the lines of age marked upon his skin. His maker’s face flickers past his eyes, the feeling of his boney knuckles dancing across once smooth, unblemished skin. “Don’t think of him, mon mignon,” Lestat says, catching his attention once more.

Daniel shakes his head, collecting himself. “Sweet? I was never ‘sweet’ for Louis. We never fucked,” he says, eyes struggling to meet the overpowering, siren-like gaze of the rockstar. Breathlessly, he asks, “just how much have you and Louis talked about me?

“In San Francisco. I know all about how you propositioned yourself to him, eager little thing. I wish I could have seen it, seen you. Am I wrong for thinking you’re still that hungry slut, ripping your shirt off for any person or persons who looks your way?” Lestat asks, sharp nail slipping down the thick veins of his neck, the carotid artery pulsing under his touch, begging for the vampire to sink his teeth into it. The corners of his mouth are itching to quirk up into a smile, Daniel can see him fighting back the expression.

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Daniel bites, “fuck you.”

“Quite.”

Lestat’s hand, once stationary, is now moving. He grinds the palm of his hand into the jeans in tight circles. It instantly shatters Daniel’s composure, a choked sound slipping from his lips. His grip slips from Lestat’s shoulders to his chest, fingers catching on the skin and some of his open collar. In seconds, he’s rendered to a mess.

The touch is like nothing he’s ever felt before. It settles so heavily in his core, feeling better than blood ever did, than the drugs he did in his youth. It zips through his veins, which are dry and thirsty, begging for the sweet release of blood on his parched tongue. Daniel can’t pretend that it doesn’t strike him dumb. He hasn’t been touched like this, with such vigour and care, since his second ex-wife. He’s been so pent up for years, libido working but no maker to shove him down and show him a good time. He could have asked Louis, but Louis would either be repulsed or look at him with those pitiful eyes and fuck him sweetly, when in truth he wanted it rough and dirty.

But Lestat could give to him how he needs it, how he craves. Why not let his first time in vampirism be Lestat? He’s already heard how good he can give it, monologues from Louis suddenly springing to the forefront of his subconscious. He could give Daniel what he so desperately wanted.

“I could, dear fledgling, but do not underestimate Louis’ want for you, nor his sadistic side. He could wreck you six ways to Sunday and not even break a sweat,” Lestat hums, eyes distant as he imagines what was undoubtedly an eventual fight. “Come on, ma vieille. Let me show you pleasure on a scale you’ve never felt before,” he says, leaning in closer until Lestat’s lips are centimetres from his own. The vampire’s breath smells divinely of blood. Daniel can’t help but breathe it in, eyes fluttering in desire even as it threatens to overwhelm him.

Desperate to escape the smell, Daniel throws his head back to get some air, which is arguably an even bigger mistake as Lestat’s nose is instantly pushing at the thin skin of his neck. He noses up and down the vein that now aches. It feels like it’s contracting, clenching with every stuttered beat of Daniel’s heart, begging for him to feed it.

“What about Louis?” Daniel asks weakly.

“What about mon chéri?” Lestat asks passively, tongue skirting up the vein, tasing him. He moans, the soft muscle sinful and dangerous, daring him to give in.

“Is he gonna freak?”

“Freak? No Danielle, you’re a… how do I say… a grey area, an established area. He will not ‘freak’.”

“Fuck,” Daniel says simply, his mind stuttering as he arrives to the implication that Lestat and Louis have talked about him; talked about him sexually. He wants to know what they said, what they wanted to do to him, or him to them. He tries to slip into Lestat’s mind, but he’s predictably an impenetrable fortress. He has to settle for asking instead, “you talked about this? About me?”

Lestat has the grace to not be annoyed at Daniel’s wordless attempt to intrude his mind, instead, grazing his fang down Daniel’s neck. It’s as if he’s aiming to tease the young fledgling into an early death, touching him in all the places Lestat shouldn’t know affect him so. “Your answer?” Lestat questions, ignoring him.

“Fuck, fuck, fine.”

“Enough with the vulgar language Danielle, it does not suit someone as beautiful as you, to speak so harshly,” he whispers against the vein before pulling back, “you’ve made a good choice, and you shall find you’ll be greatly rewarded.”

Lestat’s lips are on Daniel’s own before he can process the action. A moan he’s wholly ashamed of slips into the room and the rockstar eats it up, tongue dipping into Daniel’s mouth. Even just the plush of Lestat’s lips against him is otherworldly, his pink lipgloss smacking between them audibly. The rockstar is like a brand in his mouth, so hot compared to the cold of his own skin. It’s dizzying, different from anything he’s felt as a mortal, so erotic, primal and they’ve barely done anything. Blood blossoms in their mouths, Lestat’s tongue slicing deliberately over the tip of Daniel’s barely restrained fangs. Hands grab at his hips, pulling him closer until all he can feel is the stone body against him, washboard abs pressing against his flabby stomach.

Then, he’s pulled away and thrown over the couch, ending up on his back looking dazed at the ceiling. Lestat peaks over and laughs at the sight he’s greeted with.

“Oh Daniel, is that all it takes?” Lestat teases, feline as he rounds the couch. The plush cushions dip as he kneels, then crawls over, ending up between his legs, “what an agreeable young boy you are.”

“Not a bo— ah!”

Lestat yanks both his jeans, underwear and shoes off in one fell swoop.

“You are, so young in the blood. Our boy,” he replies. He doesn’t have the heart to ask if ‘our’ means him and Louis, or better yet; him, Louis and his maker. But, even if he did, he wouldn’t be coherent enough to get the words out.

Daniel throws his head back, feeling the wet heat of a mouth encase his cock, taking him to the hilt with no hesitation. Two-hundred years of experience shows. Lestat’s tongue dances up and down the veins of his dick, sucking in all the ways Daniel loved as a mortal, most likely pulling from memories of his past. He’s even managing to contract his throat, making the vacuum like suction even more intense — how the fuck is he doing that?

Lestat laughs in his head, eyes trained on him as Daniel tries his best to keep contact. It’s a losing game though, because his eyes are threatening to flutter close, every bob of Lestat’s head threatening to push him over the edge, to reward him the first orgasm of his vampiric existence. The moan he lets out around Daniel’s dick almost makes him cum right there, vibrations making his toes curl and his thighs tense. Lestat’s arms wrap around his thighs, yanking him closer, nose to grey pubes. He can feel the intake of air as Lestat breathes in his natural musk, moaning at the scent of it, letting himself become consumed in the fledglings smell. Daniel goes lax, letting the pleasure all but consume him. Fuck Lestat’s weird posturing game, he’s going to enjoy this.

He wishes it could have been his maker, it should have been. Should have been his lips around him as stars dance behind Daniel’s eyes, hands grasping for anything to hold onto. But— Daniel feels like he’s going to burst, almost drowning in the pleasure as orange eyes dance in his vision.

And, if past experience is anything to go by, his orgasm should crash into him like a train. Lestat, however, pulls back while he’s on the edge, his lips red, plump and inviting, as he heaves. Daniel almost sobs at the loss, his orgasm retreating away from him without mercy, the blood saliva on his cock turning cold without Lestat’s warm mouth to embrace it. It pinches, he loves it. It makes him twitch, cock bobbing into the air. Daniel opens his mouth to hiss something harsh, head flicking up rapidly with a fire in his eyes, still echoing his makers distinct orange.

Lestat, sensing the storm incoming, slaps his dick, stopping the harsh words before they slip from his mouth. Daniel curls inwards as the action almost pushes him over the edge again, that painful decline spiking up to unimaginable levels before simmering back down again. His legs tremble against the rockstar, betraying how overwhelmed he feels. “Think about Him one more time and I’ll broadcast what we’re doing to the entire vampire network,” he warns, leaning heavily over Daniel, bracketed in by Lestat’s elbows on either side of his arms.

Lestat lowers himself so his clothed cock rubs up against Daniel’s twitching one, precum now a steady stream down the flesh, begging to be touched, to have the release it desperately desires. The sensation against him is down right mean, Lestat’s soft mouth now replaced by the harsh biting feeling of his zip catching on all the soft pieces of his skin. Daniel yelps when it nips at him, pushing the older back by the shoulders — Lestat doesn’t move.

“Should I, Daniel?” He continues his earlier question, “to punish you for this insolence? I am the one bedding you, not your absentee maker.”

“He- that’s not the leverage you think it is. He’d like that. He fucking loves watching. It’s not a threat, not to me or him,” he says, voice pinched as Lestat’s gaze becomes ever more curious with every word.

“Oh how interesting, mon mignon. You’ve been getting better at blocking your mind if I’m yet to find these agreeable memories of yours,” he says, both with pride and slight annoyance, “you shall tell me about this one day. I’m interested in what your maker and his mortal-now-immortal companion got up to.”

Daniel doesn’t get to reply, because Lestat is soon retreating, ripping his nails off with his teeth. Blood drips down from them and Daniel salivates at the sight. Lestat’s divine smelling life force drips right onto the head of Daniel’s cock. The sight is erotic and tantalising. He can feel every drop, and he tenses as it slips down the gap between his cheeks, kissing at his cold hole.

The fact Lestat’s slicking up his dick only means one thing; he’s going to fuck Lestat. Daniel’s mind reels at the thought, imagining the feeling of his tight heat around his cock, milking him until all he can do is let the overstimulation consume him. Lestat laughs at that thought, still in his brain like a pestering parasite.

“No, Danielle, no,” he says, chiding, tapping him softly on the chest, “you’re not getting in me tonight, you’ll burst as soon as you do, leaving me alone with my pleasure, which would be so unfortunate.” He sucks his fingers into his mouth, slurping off the excess, watching as the flesh heals without the repair of his nails — they’ll grow back while he’s sleeping. “I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to lay there and take it, like I know you can. It’s the least you can do, as you’ve been so insufferable, interrupting my meal.”

“Interrupting the meal you ate in its entirety? Yeah whatever,” Daniel retorts, unable to keep his mouth shut and let a good thing happen for once in his life.

Then, hands part his leg further, hiking them up until the entirety of Daniel’s ass is on display. He tries to pry his legs closed, not used to feeling of being so exposed, but Lestat just forces them open with no mercy. It’s embarrassing, at his age being spread so open as if he weren’t undesirable to the point even his maker didn’t want him around. No, Lestat says in his head, almost vulnerable, not undesirable at all.

A finger then slips inside him, a sensation that kickstarts a spark in the younger version of him, who’s recently always creeping on the edge of his subconscious. It’s the version that used to get on his knees and suck a whole variety of cocks for cheap drugs — and sometimes sucking them just to do it, especially during his time with his maker. It feels strangely feels like coming home, welcoming the sensation he been deprived of since the mid 80’s.

He’s so tight. Daniel can hear it in the way Lestat hisses as he clenches around his finger from the thoughts running through his mind, falling head first into the specific pleasure of Lestat searching for his prostate. He tries his best to relax, referring to past experience to let his muscles fall lax and pliant. Lestat’s thumb ghosts over the skin of his thigh, soothing as a pleased hum is prompted from his mouth.

Lestat finds his prostate with little effort, a nail-less finger grazing the bundle of nerves harsh enough that sparks go off behind Daniel’s eyes as his vision threatens to black. He chokes back an embarrassing sound, doing his best to not clench though he knows he’s fluttering around the vampires fingers.

A second finger slips in, the stretch becoming more prominent as Lestat begins to speak, “you feel divine, mon mignon, like silk upon my fingers.” He scissors his fingers open, Daniel watches as Lestat leans down, spreading his fingers wider to look inside him. He tries to clench up but Lestat’s strong enough to keep him plied open, “si rose et accueillant à l’intérieur.”

Daniel’s brain stutters at the French, any grasp he could have gotten slips cleanly over his head. “Stop looking inside me,” he says weakly, digging the heal of his foot into Lestat’s ribs, “either get in me or get on stage. You’re dragging this out.”

Lestat’s eyes flick up to meet his gaze, clear crystal drilling into him. “Am I not allowed to savour you, Danielle? Are you that eager to feel me inside of you? My! I’m honoured!” He says dramatically. Fuck that pompous asshole. “No Danielle, you won’t be doing any fucking tonight, we’ve already established that.”

“Get the fuck out of my head.”

“No. I quite enjoy it. Your mind is very stimulating, so fast and full of perverted thoughts. I almost have half the mind to let you fuck me,” Lestat’s says, slipping a third finger in, thrusting them in sharply like he aims to make Daniel take his entire fist, “but that would be such a waste, non? After I’ve gone through all this effort to get you ready for me.”

Daniel rolls his eyes, “don’t make it seem like such a chore. We all know you’re loving this just as much as I am.” A particularly hard graze of Daniel’s prostate is his reward for being a brat. Then, he’s left jarring empty, watching as Lestat stands to slip his pants and shoes off, leaving on his shirt and synching corset.

Daniel’s eyes widen. He openly ogles at Lestat dick as it’s finally revealed to him, poking up to prod at the pink corset. A bead of blood stains the fabric as his cock head bobs against it. He’s thick and long, eight inches from a glance, with veins prominent all down the shaft. They bulge with the blood he took from that human, warmth pulsing beneath his skin. It makes Daniel’s fangs drop for the first time that night, his self control wearing thin. His fangs are large in his mouth, pinching at the bottom of his lip, a drop of blood sloping down his chin.

“Thank you for your compliment Danielle,” Lestat says, yanking Daniel’s black T-shirt over his head. He slicks up his dick with excess blood on Daniel’s chest, moaning at the wet feeling. The fledgling itches to get his mouth around him, to taste Lestat and his blood. He thinks he could probably cum from sucking dick alone now, and he wants to test that theory out. Lestat jerks himself off, leaning back slightly, presenting himself for the fledgling, “a welcome change from your earlier assessment.”

“Just get inside me already,” Daniel says breathlessly.

Lestat laughs, loud and boisterous as he throws his head back, displaying that inviting stretch of his neck. Daniel almost lurches up to sink his teeth into it, but Lestat, still reading his mind no doubt, thrusts his hand out. It sits heavily on his stomach, like a brand, a claim. Daniel just about loses his mind over the implication. The rockstar smirks, enjoying what he hears.

Lestat’s other hand slides to the base of his cock and he begins to feed it inside Daniel’s hole. It feels like he’s being split open, the thick head pushing past the ring of muscle until it pops inside of him. Daniel lets out a wanton moan, not even trying to hide the pleasure he feels, wrapping his legs around Lestat’s slutty, synched waist and digging his heals into his back, urging him forwards.

“Come on, fuck me Lestat. I—ah, know you want to,” Daniel goads, blinking back tears, trying to take more of him. The rockstar watches him struggle for a moment, unmovable like a stone statue, grinning as Daniel tries to fuck himself onto his dick.

After a couple seconds of struggling, Lestat takes pity on him. He shoves the rest of his cock inside with a singular thrust, deep and hard, relishing in Daniel’s cold embrace around him. “You feel like a corpse Danielle,” Lestat ponders, laughing when the fledgling flutters around him.

“Fuck me,” he says, stunned, bewildered at the fact that it makes him ever harder. Daniel can feel how hot Lestat is inside him, like a poker iron scalding straight to his core, like the botched nipple piercing he did as a freshly turned adult with a flame and a paperclip. He flinches from the reminder, the pain spearing through him, unforgiving.

“Yes, I am doing that, le petit minion de mon diable.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, then pauses, “did you just say something about my maker?”

“What did I say about bringing him up, fledgling,” Lestat says, eyes twinkling with mirth as he leans over Daniel, hands pushing down on the balls of his shoulders. He keeps him pinned mercilessly to the surface as he starts thrusting in and out, thin hips slapping audibly against Daniel’s soft ass. It’s loud enough that it can probably be heard from outside, but Daniel’s beyond caring, and Lestat never has. He tries to reply, the words ‘you brought him up first’ aching to slip off his tongue, but he feels too good and the train of thought slips away. Daniel sinks into pleasure, one hand rising to grip at Lestat’s muscular forearm, grounding himself on the feeling of power under his skin. “There we go,” Lestat muses, breath hot against his freezing skin, alike the cock inside him, aiming to carve him out.

“Can you- go any—ah! Faster? I’m hardly, ngh, feeling it,” Daniel says, unable to stay composed as Lestat plunges into his body like a jackhammer.

“Silence fledgling, you’re embarrassing yourself with pointless rebuttals.” Lestat breaths down his neck, head nudging Daniel’s to the side so he can mouth along the skin once more, sucking bruises that, given the fact Daniel hasn’t fed, might stay for the rest of the night. “Take your pleasure,” Lestat whispers hotly, “enjoy it. Melt beneath me like you were so clearly made to do.”

“Oh god.” Daniel scrunches his eyes closed.

“No, God is not here tonight. It’s Lestat, darling,” he says, dragging the nail of his other hand down his cheek, teasing. He draws circles on the skin, leaving white lines in their wake that quickly turn red before disappearing, already healed. His thrusts become sharper and Daniel moans loudly enough that he’s sure people can hear who it is from the outside. If he were still mortal and had an ounce of shame, he’d be mortified. He had no reason to be though, Daniel is the one Lestat’s fucking, it means he’s special. He’s special enough to be granted the pleasure, and he’ll be damned if he spends most of his time worrying about what others will think when he has this monster of a dick inside him.

Lestat responds to that thought by smashing his mouth back onto Daniel’s. Their teeth crash together, messy and harsh as Lestat’s tongue massages at the fledglings long fangs. It reminds him of his maker, with his punishing bruising grip that used to leave purple imprints on his hips for weeks at a time. He wore them with pride, even the bite marks across his shoulders and neck, letting people ogle at them.

His orgasm is creeping up again with each thrust of Lestat’s dick, just barely caressing against his prostate. He’s probably making a conscious effort to deprive Daniel of how it’d feel for Lestat to pound relentlessly against it. He needs it badly though, to feel the blunt pressure of Lestat’s cock abusing his prostate until all he can do is cry out uselessly.

Then, the brutal thrusting lessens to something shallower as Lestat pushes himself back onto his knees. “A magnificent hole. Though, it would be much more pleasureful for me if you’d fed, oui? It’s a shame you didn’t, Danielle,” Lestat says, pulling further back to sit on his haunches, still thrusting at that maddeningly slow pace. He waits, wondering if Daniel will grace him with a reply, but he stays silent. His eyes are still closed, breathing heavily though he doesn’t need to, trying to edge himself back from the pleasure threatening to explode through him.

A shoot of pain snaps him back to the present, zipping up his veins, settling at the base of his spine. The side of his ass burns from where Lestat’s slapped him, using a considerable amount of vampire strength, causing Daniel to clench harshly around the rockstars dick. “Oui?” He asks again, tone biting, clearly expecting a reply.

“Ye-ah!” Daniel says, breaking off half way through as he yells, Lestat digs his nails into the simmering heat the slap leaves.

“You should have fed for me Danielle, then you’d be a warm hole I could fuck, instead of this cold, biting vice,” Lestat continues, thrusting shallowly.

Daniel clenches again, but this time it’s for a different reason. A hole. He’d said that earlier too, though he’d been too out of his head to notice it, but now he does. The only person who’s ever referred to him as a hole was his maker. How did Lestat know about that? Did he seep into Daniel’s tightly locked memories without him noticing? His eyes snap open, meeting Lestat’s prideful gaze, “who- who told you about that?”

“Your affinity for being a hole? Who do you think?”

“A-Armand?” Daniel whispers. Even just saying his makers name makes the hairs stand up on his arms. Tingles settle on the expanse of his arms and his undead heart speeds up in his chest.

“Ding ding ding,” Lestat says, like they’re on a game show and he’s not eight inches inside his ass. He then taps at his temple, “smile for your maker, fledgling.” Daniel’s mind goes white before a pinched thought screams out into the vampire void, He’s watching?! Then, his cock gives a singular warning pulse before he’s cumming, blood flying into the air at the force of his orgasm.

It splatters audibly all over his chest. Daniel can’t tell up from down as Lestat picks up his thrusts again, relishing in the rhythmic clenching of the fledglings ass around his cock. Daniel’s vision is completely gone, the only thing he’s able to grasp a concept of is the thick organ thrusting in him with poorly disguised cruelty. Stinging overstimulation renders his mind dumb and body limp, so he lets Lestat exploit him. Then, the rockstar angles his hips to graze at his prostate, neglected and sensitive from his recent orgasm.

Daniel yelps, hands flying to Lestat’s silk collar as his eye spring open. Cum coats the expanse of his own chest, clotting in the hair around his nipples and in the divot of his bellybutton. Lestat’s face also has a couple splatters, mostly around his lips and cheeks, which he makes a show of licking off. Daniel moans at the sight, then his brain kicks back into gear, “you’re talking to him? You’re-ah! Kidding!”

“I’m doing much more than talking. I’m showing him, fledgling, letting him see you take your pleasure without him,” Lestat says, every sentence drilled in with a particularly sharp thrust, “he’s both aroused and infuriated. You should feel how mad our dear diable is now he knows he isn’t the first cock you took since your turning.”

Daniel’s iris’s choose that moment to quiver, overwhelmed. They flicker rapidly between Lestat’s icy blue and Armand’s burnt orange, complete contrasts of one another. It makes Lestat’s breath hitch while he watches the change, never seen Daniel’s affinity with his own Eye Gift so close before. It settles on orange, but the colour is soon out of sight as the fledglings eyes blow black. The overstimulation that once had him trembling, soon switches into pleasure. His prostate feels so abused as Lestat zeros in on it with every thrust that it begins to pull the ecstasy from the pain. And now, with the knowledge that he’s been speaking to Armand while fucking his fledgling, Daniel near loses his mind.

The sharp tips of his fingers shred the couch upholstery, a couple feathers breaking out into the air, settling over Daniel’s blood soaked stomach and hair. Lestat speaks, his tone echoing his makers, “oh beautiful boy, you wear your pleasure so well, just like how I remembered. You’re still so insatiable, beloved. Merde!” The last part comes from Lestat himself, relishing in the sensation of Daniel’s walls becoming snug around his cock, almost cutting off the circulation.

“How- how long?” Daniel asks, then bites his lips springing blood as he tries to keep his moans in. Which is a mistake, as it also turns pleasureful, further exasperating him. He writhes, hands touching all over Lestat, dancing across his shoulders and chest, dipping to his stomach. A particularly hard thrust has his scrambling for purchase, sharp nails digging into Lestat’s bicep.

“Since your mind slipped to Armand after I started fuck you. I warned you, fledgling.” Daniel reaches down to fist his dick, trying to release the teetering edge that threatens to drown him. His thumb grazes the head but Lestat soon snatches it away. “No.”

“Fuck, come on man,” Daniel says weakly.

“You cum alone from my cock or not at all.”

Daniel speaks, “I already did.” He’s sure that Lestat can still hear him even as it comes out quiet and whispered, but he makes no acknowledgement of it.

Lestat then slips out of him and grabs his side. One moment, he’s on his back and the next, his face and knees are embedding into the soft cushions. His arms are yanked away, pressing into the small of his back, rendering him unable to move as Lestat thrusts his cock back inside him. Relentless thrusts pick up and he focuses on nailing his prostate. Daniel gauges that Armand must be speaking to Lestat through the Mind Gift — giving him directions or cursing him out, Daniel can’t be sure — but he’s so fucked dumb that he can’t get himself to ask.

Daniel hisses faintly, his cheek chafing off the couch. Lestat answers it with a growl of his own, pounding into his behind. He starts to ramble. The string of French expletives flying out his mouth is the only thing that lets Daniel know he’s getting close. The fledgling swears he hears the word ‘Armand’ shoved somewhere in there and he wishes he knew what was being said — he should have taken Armand up on those French lessons in his youth.

He finds, the longer Lestat’s inside of him, the warmer he becomes. He’s literally warming Daniel from the inside, his cock the only heat source around for meters. Daniel expectedly leaches onto it like a parasite. Every thrust causes his cock’s tip, dangling heavily between his legs, to graze over the couch cushions in such a way that it almost sends him babbling. Each snap of Lestat’s hips pushes him closer to the edge, the harsh thrusting against his prostate coinciding with the sinful satisfaction on his head.

Lestat lets go of his hands and the dead limbs fall heavily onto the couch. Instead, he grabs Daniel’s hips, yanking him onto his cock like he’s just a useless toy, being used for the rockstars pleasure. He whines at the thought and Lestat laughs at it, “oh putain Gremin, you were right!”

“Right- right about what?!” Daniel asks, exasperated, pushing himself up on shaky elbows. He turns his head back, meeting Lestat’s eyes, the fire in them making him freeze up. He can almost see Armand looking at him through Lestat, the scrape of eyes across his skin infuriatingly toxic. His shudders at the visual.

His climax is creeping up on him once more. Every fibre of his being wants to run his hand down his stomach and stroke himself to completion, but Lestat said he couldn’t and he’s way too fucked out to try brat himself out of the situation. Lestat also seems to be getting closer, thrusts turning sloppy, no longer hard and punishing, but desperate.

Daniel’s prostate feels numb, thought it still shoots out pulses of tingling ecstasy that makes his arms threaten to give way beneath him. His precum is a steady stream from his dick, waiting for that last moment to match Lestat in his orgasm, barely holding on.

“I’m going to cum inside you, mon mignon, ruining you for anyone else, especially your absent maker,” he says, heaving, nails digging into his soft skin, “never again will anyone pleasure you like I have.”

And with that final sentence, Lestat cums, claiming him from the inside.

Blood explodes inside Daniel with an accompanying deep groan. The sound, primal and heavy, shudders along Daniel’s spine, like fireworks dancing across his skin. The warmth of Lestat’s cum floods through him, similar to how it feels to drink blood, but so infinitely different. Endorphins rush through his body, quickly pushing himself over the edge. He cums all over himself with a guttural sound similar to a wild animal. His slowly depleting reserves of blood are splattered across the couch, soaking the satin beneath him. He’s dizzy from blood loss, limp and pliant beneath Lestat’s large hands.

The couch is surely ruined now. It’ll have to be thrown and burnt once they leave. There’s no chance in hell anyone will be able to get the blood soaked fabric to look presentable ever again, coupled with claw marks Daniel had made earlier.

Lestat continues fucking into him with weak thrusts, urging small spurts of cum out of the twitching member, adding to the heavy weight Daniel now feels inside himself. It grounds him, oddly enough, and one hand slips underneath him to hold at his stomach. He settles into it, letting the shuddering of his body slowly recede as Lestat’s movements begin to wind down.

Then, the door slams open and Daniel flinches. Lestat’s hand comes to rest soothingly on his back, rubbing small circles. It’s just Christine, Lestat speaks through the Mind Gift, stay still. She can’t see you.

“Oh for crying out loud,” Christine’s voice hisses. Daniel shoves his knuckles into his mouth to stop himself from laughing, her anger so potent he can smell it even with his face is inches from his own cum. “I can’t fucking believe you both. I sent Daniel in to get you to hurry up and it’s been how long?” She checks her watch, “30 fucking minutes! You got it out your system? You’re fifty minutes late Lestat, Fifty. Get up and go. Leave Daniel where he is, I don’t give a fuck what happens with him.”

“Yes Christine, I’m ready, we can go! Do not fret,” he says, finally slipping out of Daniel. Cum dribbles out his hole, like flood gates opening in the absence of Lestat’s dick inside him. The warmth of his cum dances down his cold thighs. Daniel moans at the loss, collapsing onto the ruined couch. Christine curses; he’s not sure if it’s at the state of the couch or the situation itself. It could be both. The wood groans beneath him as Lestat clambers off. There’s a shuffling sound as the rockstar puts his clothes right. Then, to Daniel, “wonderful time fucking you, la garcon de mon gremlin, let’s do this again later tonight, oui?”

His fingers slip under Daniel’s chest, and the fledgling rises pliantly to give him access, uncaring if he seems too eager. Though he can’t see it, Lestat smiles, pleased. His fingers dip into the blood beneath him and Daniel finally pulls his head out of the satin cushions to watch as he smears a glob of Daniel’s cum on his lips and chin. The fledglings eyes are thick with tears, but he can see enough through the red sheen to make out what’s happening. Daniel audibly gulps and Lestat meets his eyes, icy blue twinkling at him, before winking.

He then leaves the room, Christine following as she slams the door, letting her annoyance be known, with no care that Daniel could kill her before she blinked.

“Fuck,” Daniel says in a pathetic whisper that gets muffled as he settles himself back into the ruined couch, where he trembles pathetically, glowing in the after shocks of his first sexual experience as a vampire.

Now he knows why Armand and Louis have gone crazy over Lestat, spanning multiple centuries, and Daniel’s swiftly on his way to joining them.