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He reached out and put his arm around my neck and kissed me.
We almost upset the table we were so blissfully drunk.
“My lord, the wolfkiller,” he whispered.
-The Vampire Lestat
Lestat took Nicki’s face in both hands and studied his features. His cheeks, his nose. The way the light from the fireplace reflected in his large, dark eyes. His soft, slightly parted lips.
He truly was beyond handsome.
“Nicolas…” Lestat breathed. He brushed a thumb over Nicki’s lower lip.
Nicki smiled widely before abruptly surging forward and bringing their mouths together again. Lips meeting, teeth clashing, tongue sliding against tongue. The taste of fine wine and life and new friendship – no, of love.
New love.
Of hope for the future. New possibilities.
Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, touching everywhere, exuberant and slightly clumsy, like their kiss itself.
They broke apart, gasping for air, and grinned at each other, their chests heaving, their faces still close together. One of Nicki’s curls had escaped its ribbon and tickled Lestat’s cheek. Lestat tucked it behind Nicki’s ear.
The way Nicki looked at Lestat was almost reverent, like it had been that day he had presented Lestat with the fur-lined cloak and boots. It was as if he saw something in Lestat that no one else could see, that no one else had ever tried to see. A goodness and a worth Lestat had been made to believe he did not possess.
Nicki brought up his hand and slowly traced the scar at the corner of Lestat’s mouth – still fresh, the new skin still pink and tender where the wolf’s claw had torn him open – with a single finger.
And then he touched it with his lips.
Soon their mouths connected fully and they kissed for a third time, more slowly but no less passionately than before. Lestat slid his hands down Nicki’s back until they landed on his firm backside. He squeezed and Nicki moaned into their kiss.
Nicki’s arms were around Lestat’s neck again, his chest pressing against Lestat’s so forcefully that the latter had no choice but to take a step backwards.
And another, and another.
Lestat’s heel caught on the table leg.
Drunk as he was, he lost his balance and they tumbled down onto the floor, Lestat landing flat on his back with Nicki on top of him.
A pewter plate that had stood on the edge of the table clattered down with them, sending grapes and crumbs of bread and cheese flying. One of the chairs went down, too, caught by Lestat’s flailing arm.
The fall momentarily knocked the wind out of Lestat. He looked up at Nicki, at his beautiful, startled face, and then he burst out laughing.
“Shh, Monsieur!” Nicki admonished through his own silent laughter. He put his fingers over Lestat’s mouth, trying to close it. “Shh!”
“You shh, Monsieur.”
“No, you!”
Lestat rolled them over, so he was on top, and then their mouths were otherwise occupied once more. Nicki parted his legs, allowing Lestat to slot in between them, and he pressed his hardness up against Lestat’s. Now Nicki was the one who put his hands on Lestat’s backside, pulling him closer, urging him on.
“More,” Nicki demanded when Lestat drew back for lack of air. Nicki’s slender violinist hands pulled Lestat’s shirt from the back of his breeches (they had long since shed their cloaks and coats). “More.”
Instead of resuming their kiss, Lestat drew back further and gazed down at Nicki in wonder. He could hardly believe that this was real – that someone as worldly and well-educated as Nicolas would look at him, the disappointing youngest member of a once-great, now-crumbling house, the way Nicki was looking at him now.
Nicki’s expression was filled with affection, his pupils blown wide with lust, and Lestat ached for him.
“I want you,” Lestat told him. He needn’t have; their mutual desire was exceedingly apparent, their clothed erections still pressed together, but Lestat could not suppress the urge to put his need for the other man into words.
“Have me,” Nicki replied breathlessly, an order as much as it was an offer.
Lestat moved down, pushing Nicki’s shirt up as far as he could while he pressed open-mouthed kisses to every inch of skin that he laid bare. Nicki arched into his touch. He wound his fingers into Lestat’s hair, gently guiding Lestat’s mouth to where he wanted it.
Lestat kissed his collarbones, his nipples, the soft skin below his navel, his hands following every touch of his lips.
They undid the fastening on Nicki’s breeches together, pushing and pulling the garment down with an urgency Lestat had never felt with any other person he had lain with.
Lestat pushed up Nicki’s right leg and kissed the inside of his thigh, starting just above his knee and slowly moving up, drawing soft sounds of pleasure from Nicki’s lips.
When he reached Nicki’s groin, Lestat lifted up Nicki’s other leg as well, placing them both on his shoulders. Nicki propped himself up on his elbows to look at him, and they maintained eye contact while Lestat wrapped a hand around Nicki’s length and gave his tip a tentative lick.
Nicki’s breathing hitched, which encouraged Lestat to do it again. This time Nicki’s eyes fluttered closed and Lestat was rewarded with a soft moan.
When Nicki opened his eyes, Lestat grinned at him and moved to take the tip into his mouth – but found that he could not.
One of Nicki’s hands was in his hair again, keeping him from continuing.
“Have you done this before?” Nicki asked. There was no judgement in his voice.
“I have been…” Lestat breathed, “on the receiving end.”
Nicki’s grip loosened slightly and he smiled. “Careful with your teeth.”
Lestat mimed biting him in reply. Nicki let go of him and clapped both his hands to his own mouth to stifle his laughter.
“Monsieur, you are incorri – ”
The rest of his reply was lost in the gasp he let out when Lestat took him into his mouth.
Lestat might not have done this before, but he knew how he liked it done to himself and he tried to give Nicki exactly that, spurned on by the other’s moans and whispered encouragements.
Nicki writhed beneath him, telling him Yes and Please, calling him My Lord, Monsieur, Wolfkiller.
Lestat closed his eyes and savored the taste of him, the smell, the sounds, the weight of Nicki’s calves on his shoulders, the weight of Nicki’s cock on his tongue.
Nicki’s movements became less controlled, his breathing more erratic as Lestat moved up and down his length again and again. Lestat reached around Nicki’s thighs with both hands to grasps his hips and to prevent Nicki from involuntarily bucking up into his mouth.
“Monsieur…you must stop. Or I will…in your mouth…” Nicki made a half-hearted attempt to pull Lestat off before putting his hands over his own mouth again, this time to muffle the sound of his pleasure.
Lestat doubled his efforts and it didn’t take much longer before Nicki was spilling down his throat, Lestat swallowing around him.
Lestat waited until he felt Nicki’s body relax against his to pull back, and rested his cheek against the inside of Nicki’s left thigh while he caught his breath.
He heard the pounding of his own heart and thought that, perhaps, he could also hear Nicolas’s.
“My apologies,” Nicki panted. “I did not mean…”
“I did,” Lestat assured him.
Nicki looked at Lestat and reached for him. Lestat scrambled up so he was on top of Nicki once more, face-to-face, their chests touching, breathing the same air.
Light from the fireplace danced over Nicki’s face, illuminating his beauty. The wonder in his eyes told Lestat that Nicki thought that he, too, was beautiful.
Nicki touched his fingers to Lestat’s scar again. “Will you take me?” he whispered. “Will you make me yours?”
Lestat nodded wordlessly, breathlessly. He was painfully hard in his breeches and wanted Nicki like he had never wanted anyone in his twenty years on earth.
“Have you done that before?” Nicki asked.
“Only with women. Is it very different?”
Nicki smiled. “I don’t know,” he laughed, “I’ve only done it with men.”
Lestat laughed, too, and buried his face in Nicki’s neck.
“We’ll need…” Nicki said, “oil. From the bread.” He waved one hand towards the table and gave Lestat’s shoulder a gentle push with the other.
Lestat rushed to get to his feet.
“And we should lock the door.”
The door! Lestat hadn’t considered the door. It was closed but could be opened at any moment, by the inn-keeper, a barmaid or a nosy patron.
Lestat turned towards it, but Nicki told him, “No, you get the oil. I’ll do it.”
Nicki stood up as well and ran across the room in just his shirt and stockings, waving at Lestat to make haste.
Lestat searched for the oil they had dipped their bread in earlier. They had made an unholy mess of the table in their fall. “The oil’s tipped over!” The little bowl was upside down, what oil had been left slowly dripping down onto the floor. Lestat wiped at it stupidly with his fingers.
“Wasn’t there a bottle?” Nicki had picked up a chair and was in the process of propping it underneath the door handle.
Lestat scanned the table for the bottle and gasped. “Yes, I have it!”
He snatched it from the table, then picked up the red, wolf-fur-lined cloak and spread it out on the floor where they had just been lying.
Nicki soon joined him on that side of the room again (it really was a very small room) and said, “Truly a gentleman.”
Lestat tackled him onto the cloak.
“Or perhaps not!” Nicki laughed.
Lestat captured his mouth in another kiss. He then thrust the bottle of oil into Nicki’s hands while he pulled off his own shirt.
They quickly divested Lestat of his breeches and Lestat put Nicki’s legs up on his shoulders again.
Nicki pulled the cork stopper out with his teeth and spat it out, letting out a soft, amused, ‘oops’ when it landed in the hearth. He poured some oil between his legs and handed the bottle back to Lestat.
“Put it on yourself,” Nicki instructed after a moment or two; Lestat had been distracted by the sight of Nicki preparing himself.
“Come,” Nicki reached for Lestat again, “I’m ready. Come.” He opened his legs further, one of them slipping down from Lestat’s shoulder, and moved Lestat into position. “Slowly. At first.”
Lestat nodded and lined himself up with Nicki’s entrance. “Come,” Nicki urged once more and Lestat slowly pushed in.
Nicki was hot and tight around him and it was very different from the experiences Lestat had had thus far. And not just in the physical sense. Lestat fell in love – and into people’s beds – very easily, but he had never had such easy conversation with anyone as he had had with Nicki that day, had never felt such a deep and natural fondness for any other person.
“Yes,” Nicki whispered, “like that.” His hands were on Lestat’s face, on his neck, moving down his bare back.
Lestat went slow at first, like he had been instructed, but Nicki was soon encouraging him to increase his speed, demanding more, more.
There was a hunger in Nicki that Lestat had not thought one human being could feel for another. It might have frightened him, had he not hungered for Nicki with the exact same intensity.
“I…” Nicki said, “I…” He laughed, delighted. “You.”
Lestat nodded, agreed, understood. There were no words, only Lestat and Nicki, enveloped by the warmth from the fire, the red cloak beneath them.
Nicki clung to Lestat, holding him close to his chest, his ankles crossed at the small of Lestat’s back, while Lestat continued to build up his speed, giving Nicki what he demanded, giving it his all, until –
“Yes, yes,” Nicki whispered as Lestat’s hips stuttered and Lestat spent himself inside of him in a climax that completely flooded his senses. Nicki was all around him; Lestat could smell him, taste him, feel the sweat on Nicki’s chest mingling with his own.
Lestat rolled slightly to the side so he didn’t crush the slighter man as he let himself collapse. He was still speechless – near overwhelmed. Nicki held him, whispering more endearments and threading his fingers through Lestat’s hair.
“Are you alright, Monsieur?” he asked after a while, his voice still soft.
“Lestat,” Lestat panted. “Surely after that you must call me by my given name.”
“Lestat,” Nicki repeated. “Lestat.”
Hearing his name from Nicki’s lips, in his voice, took Lestat’s breath away in a way he had not expected.
Hardly anyone called him by his given name. His mother did, sometimes. His father just called him ‘boy’. His brothers had all manner of names for him, all of them derogatory, and when they did use his actual name, they made it sound like it left an offensive taste in their mouths.
Nicki sounded like he enjoyed saying Lestat’s name. Like he saw the man behind it for who he was and approved of what he saw.
Lestat hid his face in Nicki’s neck and sniffed.
“Are you alright?” Nicki asked again.
Lestat nodded, though he wasn’t sure that he was.
Nicki shifted, carefully rearranging their bodies so Lestat was on his back, Nicki half on top of him. He caressed Lestat’s face and kissed him, tenderly, for a very long time. Until Lestat was certain that he was alright.
Nicki looked at him, his face soft and questioning, and Lestat nodded again.
“We should get dressed,” Nicki said.
“Must we?”
Lestat wished he could suspend this moment in time indefinitely. This moment of perfect happiness. But he also wished for more. More of their conversation, another night like this, and another. Learning more about Nicki’s adventures in Paris, about how he viewed the world.
“We must,” Nicki insisted. “How else will we order more wine?”
Lestat laughed. “Yes, more wine.” More wine was an excellent idea.
“Yes,” Nicki repeated. “And you must tell me more about yourself,” he added, articulating exactly what Lestat was thinking. “I want to know everything there is to know about you.”