Gagging for It

~4100 words :: Vampire Chronicles :: Louis/Lestat :: 9/27/02
When Louis and Lestat make a bet to see who can go the longest without sex, it ends up opening old wounds.


I open my eyes this evening to find Louis still sleeping and I savor the view – I don’t get to see him like this as often as I used to. It’s perhaps the one thing I really regret about him taking my blood. I do so love watching him sleep; he looks so innocent.

His mouth is slightly open, his breathing soft. Black lashes fan out over his cheekbones like spilled ink on white paper and his hair falls in his face, not smoothly but tangled and matted with sweat and blood from last night’s activities. Streaks and patches of dried blood cover his body. His legs are tangled in mine and one arm is thrown over my waist rather possessively.

He’s beautiful and I’m hard just from watching him sleep. Well, that and the memory of how he came to be in this state.

I shift slightly causing my erection to graze his thigh.

“Mmm,” he mumbles, pressing in closer.

His eyes flutter open and he smiles wickedly. “Lestat, look at you. You’re insatiable.”

I’m insatiable?” I repeat, incredulously. “Who was it, then, who pounced on me not five minutes after I woke up last night, cancelled all our plans, and didn’t let me out of the bedroom the entire night, hmm?”

“Oh, you would rather have gone out?” the cheeky bastard asks, trying to act all innocent.

“I never said that. I’m just saying, Monsieur, that you are hardly one to talk.” I reach down and squeeze his stiffening cock to emphasize my point.

He pushes me over onto my back and straddles me, holding me tight with his thighs. “No, I think you, my beloved brat, are by far the more wanton,” he pauses to kiss me, “of the two of us.” This isn’t really very convincing as his breath is coming in ragged gulps and his eyes are glazed with lust.

Suddenly I’m sick of him and his superior attitude all the time.

Flipping us over so I’m on top, I pin his arms up above his head. His heart is racing; nothing gets Louis going like a little rough play. Or a lot.

But that’s not what I have in mind right now. “I bet,” I say, my lips grazing his throat, “that I can last longer than you,” a little nip with my fangs, “without sex,” I finish, lapping at the crimson beads that well up from the tiny wound.

I look down at him, waiting for my words to sink in. “Without what?”

“Without sex, my little lust crazed Creole,” I reply.

“Why?” he asks with this sexy little pouty look that he knows drives me wild.

“Because.” I let go of his wrists and get off the bed. Walking over to the closet, I begin to pick out my clothes for the night. “I don’t think you can do it. I think,” I pause and turn back to him, “that you would be gagging for it, on your knees begging me, before I found myself in the same position.”

I try to pull on my jeans, but Louis is still lying there naked on the bed looking quite fetching and I find, much to my chagrin, that I am unable to close the zip.

He laughs and strokes himself lazily. “Poor Lestat. Let me take care of that for you.”

“No!” I shout, startling us both. I strip off the jeans and throw them back in the closet. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Stat…”

I know I shouldn’t turn around, but I do. He’s sitting back on his haunches, his legs spread. His eyes are wide and innocent. It’s a look he’s had over two hundred years to perfect and he knows exactly what it does to me. “You’re not going to leave me,” he gestures between his thighs, “like this, are you?”

It takes every last ounce of willpower I possess, but I manage to look him in the eye and say, “Yes, I am.”

Immediately the illusion is shattered. Gone is the innocent boy, gone is the sex kitten, and all remains is one angry and extremely frustrated vampire.

Eyes blazing, he rises up on his knees and the next thing I know a pillow is hitting me in the face with a dull thud. “Fine, take your shower then!” he shrieks. “Two can play at this game, Lestat!”


The door slams and he does indeed leave me here, sitting on the bed, in a state of painful arousal. “Damn it!”

I can’t believe him. What, exactly, is the purpose of this little game? He can’t really think he’ll win.

I think he’s right about one thing, though, a shower is definitely what’s needed right now.

As the hot water pours over me I try to figure out how this night went so wrong so quickly. I sigh and wish he were in here with me instead of in the bathroom down the hall.

I meant what I said, though. If he wants to play like this, I’m not going to back down.

Ten minutes later I find him down in the living room. Having taken care of business, he was apparently able to squeeze himself into those jeans. No, don’t think about tight jeans. That way lies madness.

He’s pretending to read, but I can tell his mind is on something else; he’s got this far away look in his eyes. I sit down in the chair across from him and say, “Rules.”

“Huh?”

“We need rules.”

“I’m not following you at all here, Louis. Rules for what?” he asks, putting the book down.

“If we’re going to continue with this…contest of wills, we’ll need rules,” I explain.

“Like what?”

“Self gratification is allowed, but no involving others, mortal or immortal.”

“Jacking off, yes. Cheating, no. Got it.”

I roll my eyes. “No need to be crude, Lestat.”

He smirks. “And what else?”

I shrug. “Everything’s fair in love and war, as the saying goes. Seduction, the cold shoulder, whatever it takes to have me on my knees ‘gagging for it’ as you so quaintly put it.” I pause and then smile at him, and it’s not a nice smile. “I, of course, will do the same.”

He nods and leans forward. “All right. And what of the stakes, then?”

“I hadn’t given it much thought…” And in truth, I hadn’t. I’d thought only of proving Lestat wrong.

“The loser,” he says, “agrees to be the winner’s slave for…let’s say one week. Yes?”

I think it over. This game is going to be quite fun; the consequences may turn out to be just as enjoyable, if not more so.

“Fine,” I agree. Standing up, I offer him my hand. “Shake?”

He grabs my hand, but instead of shaking, he pulls in me for a kiss, ravishing my mouth before stepping back. “All’s fair in love and war, cher,” he says as he turns to leave.

When I hear the front door close, I turn and kick the chair hard enough to break one of its legs. “Damn it!”


Self gratification is allowed, but no involving others, mortal or immortal.

Fuck him. Fuck. Him. Stupid fucking bastard.

To say I’m a little pissed is like saying the man lying at my feet in a mangled heap of broken bones and shredded flesh is a little dead. I can’t remember the last time Louis made me this mad, although there’s no doubt it’s happened before – hell, I spent the better part of seventy years being angry with him. Just not…not in a long time.

How long has it been since David and all that shit? Over ten years now. Ten years and sometimes he still acts like he thinks I’m going to run off at the drop of a hat. As if just because I can’t make love to him, I’m going to go jump in the sack with anyone who happens to cross my path.

Not like I don’t flirt, of course I do. It’s how I am and even for him I don’t know if it’s something I can change. But I don’t mean anything by it and he knows that. Should know that. He should. Him and his damn insecurities.

Damn it. Without even trying, he’s managed to hit more nerves tonight than I knew I had. And I know he probably didn’t mean a damn thing by it, so I’m going to let it go.

“Argh, Louis, sometimes you make me want to kill you,” I say to no one in particular.

Okay, currently in the process of trying to let it go. I can do this. Just take a deep breath and forget about it. Concentrate instead on the task at hand, that is to say, getting Louis to admit that sometimes he is just as much led by his baser desires as I am. Right.

But first I have to dispose of this corpse.


Lestat has no self-control. Everyone would agree, I’m sure. That said, it should be a simple enough matter to drive him wild with lust and have him begging for me.

So how is it that the better part of a week has passed and I am here, alone in the shower, Lestat having resisted me yet again? It’s like I woke up and found myself in some weird alternate universe or something.

Weird, because it’s not that my advances have not had any effect on him, quite the opposite. But instead of giving in, he gets up and leaves.

I growl and smash my fist against the wall, causing several tiles to crack and fall to the floor.

Turning off the faucet, I step out of the shower and grab a towel, then, remembering the tiles, bend down to pick up the pieces.

“Nice view.” I hadn’t even heard him come in.

I lay the tiles on the counter and he raises an eyebrow at me. “Something bothering you?” he asks in that mocking tone I know so well.

“No.”

“Just making sure.” He’s trying not to let it show, but I can see my nudity is having an effect on him. There’s a sort of far away look in his eyes and I think his hands are shaking. Yes, he just clenched them to stop the trembling. I know. It’s something I’ve done myself a million times.

My towel’s been hanging limply in my hand, but now I take it and begin to dry my hair. I’m conscious of his eyes as they follow the play of muscles when I raise my arms. I feel a stirring in my groin as his gaze roves over me.

“Louis…” His voice is low and thick with passion.

Next thing I know, he’s pushed me up against the counter and is kissing me like there’s no tomorrow. His fingers are like fire trailing up and down my spine, one hand stopping to rest on my waist, the other massaging my neck. In his haste, he’s caught his tongue on one of my fangs, not just nicking it, but tearing open a huge gash.

I hear myself whimper as the wound heals and the flow of his blood comes to a halt. The taste of him is like heaven. It’s been a week. A week that I’ve been without this.

Then he’s pulling away. I almost beg for him to stay, but then I remember myself. His eyes are unfocused, blue and violet swirling through the grey. His mouth is open and I see him struggling for breath. He looks how I feel.

His whole body is trembling now, not just his hands, and I can see his muscles tense as he tries to get himself under control. His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper, as he says, “It was just a kiss. I can still kiss you, right?”

“Can you?” My own voice sounds strangled.

He turns and leaves, closing the door behind him. When did Lestat learn this sort of self-control? Or did he have it all along and I just missed it? I don’t know anymore.

I sink down to the floor, my head between my knees as I try to get a hold of myself. Oh God. Oh God, I want him so badly it hurts. A part of me starts to wonder what the hell I’m doing.


Too close. That was way too close. I was seconds away from blowing the whole thing back there. And why? Why, when I had been able to resist Louis all week with, well not “no problem” but certainly with much less effort than it took to tear me away from him just now?

But the truth is I do know why. That was real. That was Louis. Naked, both literally and metaphorically.

All week he’s been putting on a show. A very, very nice show, but a show nonetheless. A conscious effort to seduce me. But I’d caught him unawares in the shower he just looked so…so Louis. So perfect.

I thought this would be easy. Okay, well I didn’t think it would be easy, exactly, but I sure didn’t imagine it would be like this. I honestly thought he would break before this, but I forgot how stubborn he can be.

Yeah, I know. How could I forget something like that? Because he’s been so damn compliant these last few years, that’s why. We both have been. We’re not at each other’s throats all the time and it’s been so nice and…peaceful.

And now I have visions of this stupid game lasting for God knows how long. But I’m just stupid enough and stubborn enough that I’m still determined not to be the one who gives.

I sigh and close my eyes and am immediately assailed by visions of Louis. If any good has come out of this, it’s that I’m getting to see him in all sorts of outfits that are generally resigned to the back of his closet.

Not everything was of the slinky, skimpy, “fuck me now” variety – although there were nights like that. No, he knows me. Knows me very well.

Last night, for example. I can picture it perfectly. He had tickets to the opera. Box seats. Now, the opera has long been linked with sex and Louis in my mind. Even nights when we had Claudia with us, I would try to get away with whatever I could. I can’t help it; the opera bores me terribly. I have to have something to keep me awake.

So already I knew it would be a temptation, and he knew it, too. Of course he did. He’s not stupid. But he’d taken it a step further. His suit was Armani. Black. Perfectly fitted, of course. And with a green silk shirt that matched the color of his eyes. I remember picking out that shirt for his birthday last year.

His hair was pulled back, not normally my favorite look for him, but with the suit it just looked so…slick, so classy. So sexy. And it shows off his neck beautifully.

But I did it. I sat through the entire show, not without touching him, but without taking it any farther than a hand on his thigh or my arm around his shoulders.

As for me, I hadn’t meant to go the cold shoulder route, but my mind’s been so full of resisting Louis that I haven’t been able to come up with any plans of my own.

I need to think of something soon or I’m going to go absolutely stark raving mad.


The tension, the silence, the anger, the fractured moments of passion and tenderness amidst it all, it’s like we’ve time-warped back to when we first lived together. I almost expect Claudia to appear and complete the picture.

I try to remember how the situation deteriorated so quickly. A small voice keeps insisting it’s my fault, but I’m still ignoring it.


It’s almost dawn and I haven’t spoken to him since the incident in the bathroom, which was several hours ago. I had spent the rest of the night downstairs on the couch, the TV running, but I wasn’t really paying it any attention.

I go upstairs and find him in our bedroom reading. I have spent the past week sleeping in the guest room. It’s not right. This is our house, our room. Why am I sleeping down the hall?

Sitting down next to him, I run my fingers through his hair. He smiles and lays his head down on the pillow, putting his book on the nightstand.

Pulling him into my arms, I hold him close until the death sleep takes us.


Lestat is still asleep when I wake. God, it feels so good to have his arms around me again. I relax against his chest, closing my eyes, and just enjoy the feel of him next to me.

I don’t want him to wake. Once he wakes we’ll be back where we started.

He starts to stir, half-awake, and his hand slips down to my hip. I hold my breath and pray that this will be the end of it, but then his eyes snap open and he realizes what he’s doing. He runs his hand up my side and kisses me on the forehead. That’s it.

That’s it? No. No, please. I’ve missed you so much. Can’t you see this is tearing me apart? God, Lestat…

But nothing comes out of my mouth and he can’t hear my thoughts, no matter how loud they seem to me.

He rolls over on his back and puts his arms behind his head. I lie on my side next to him, not having moved since I awoke. He’s just staring up at the ceiling and I wonder what he’s thinking about.

The voice in the back of my mind won’t shut up and it gets harder and harder to remember why I was ever ignoring it in the first place.

I want Lestat.

I love Lestat.

I need Lestat.

Why am I denying myself? To prove a point? What point? Lestat was right and I was being a prick. I want Lestat because I love him. There’s nothing wrong with that, so why should I pretend otherwise? Why should I torture myself?

There is no reason.

There is no reason why I should not at this very moment…


Suddenly Louis is on top of me and my arms, which I had been lying on, are pinned up above my head. His eyes are so dark they look almost black. “Louis?”

I try to move my arms, but his grip is like iron. I can see the muscles in his arm tense as he holds me still. His other hand trails down my cheek and comes to rest on my neck, his thumb held over the pulsing vein.

“You were right.” His voice sounds faraway. “I want you.” He bends his head and now his lips replace his thumb on my jugular. “I. Am. Gagging for it.”

His fangs scrape against my neck and my whole body jerks in response. His left hand still holds my arms tight while his right hand traces my ribs. Every inch of my skin is burning for his touch, but he’s teasing.

“I love you,” he whispers, almost too low even for my enhanced hearing to catch, but I can feel the movement of his lips on my skin.

And then. Softly, tenderly, worshipfully. His fangs slide into the vein and my blood pumps into his mouth. In and out, not letting the wounds heal. Yes.


His blood is hot and thick. We’re both swooning. The room seems hazy; everything but the blood is vague and indistinct. Everything but the blood and his body under mine.

This time when I slide my fangs out I let the wounds heal, lapping up the last drops of blood. My head is swimming.

I kiss him, letting him taste his blood in my mouth, letting him lick it from my teeth. He scrapes my tongue and now my blood is flowing, too. Mingling together.

Letting go of his wrists, I get up from the bed and pull off my shorts. I had never bothered to get dressed fully after my shower last night. Lestat’s only half-dressed, too, in just a pair of old jeans. In the time it takes to note that fact, he’s slithered out of them and tossed them on the floor. Good, saves me the trouble.

He starts to sit up and I shake my head. No. He smiles, not broadly, just a slight upturn of his lips. A soft smile. Something I know he doesn’t show to others. Just for me.


Louis stands by the bed watching me admiringly. Possessively. Then in the blink of an eye he’s on top of me again. “Turn over,” he commands, and I obey unquestioningly.

“I need to be inside you.” Yes, and I need you inside me.

He slices into my thigh, letting the blood run over his hand. There is a sense of frantic urgency about him as he covers his cock with my blood. I watch, my head turned back as far as possible, as he positions himself to enter me. He hovers for a moment, the head of his cock pushing between my cheeks. Then as if with one mind, he thrusts forward as I arch back to meet him.

He slams into me and I scream as I stretch to accommodate him. My eyes tear up and for a second the world is red before I blink them away. He knows me so well; his every move causes me to gasp, not with pain, but with pleasure. Indescribable.

His hands hold my hips in place as he moves. Faster, then slow, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in. My cock brushes against the blanket, causing me to shiver. I reach down to grab it, but Louis notices the movement and catches my arm midway there, twisting it behind my back.

“That’s my job,” he says, his voice low.

“Please…”

Still holding my arm back, he takes my cock and begins stroking in time with his thrusts. It doesn’t take long to bring me to the edge and as I’m hanging there, teetering, he lets go of my arm and shoves his wrist in my face. I feel his fangs on my neck again.

I bite. I come. He comes. He bites. I can’t tell who’s who anymore. This is how it should be. We’re floating and all I feel is his love for me and my love for him and nothing else matters. Nothing else exists.

Time has no meaning.


When I come back to myself, I find I’m lying atop Lestat, my arm trapped underneath him. We’re both breathing heavily; the sound fills the room.

I roll off him and pull him close. “I guess you win.”

He laughs softly. I can’t really even hear him, just feel his shoulders shake against my chest. “I love you, you know?”

I squeeze him tightly. He’s sorry he doesn’t say it enough. I know that. “I know. And I love you, too.”

“I wouldn’t,” he turns in my arms to face me, “I wouldn’t cheat on you. I know, I know I haven’t exactly been reliable in the past, but that’s changed. I’ve changed.”

“I’m sorry, I…I shouldn’t have said that. Implied that you would. I just, sometimes I wonder why you’re here with me when you could have anyone you want, and I get…insecure. It’s stupid. I know.” My words are rushed, mumbled, but he hears everything.

“It’s not stupid, and I do have anyone I want, because I want you. I chose you, two hundred and eleven years ago this night.”

“You remembered.” I feel stupid for thinking he would forget.

“Of course I remembered, you prat.” He spanks me playfully.

“Happy anniversary, Lestat.”

“Happy anniversary, love.” He pushes my hair back from my face and grins. “Now I believe there was something about being my slave…?”

Oh God, I had totally forgotten. “What, you’re not serious?”

“Dead serious.” He falls into a fit of laughter at his own joke. I just sigh and pretend to be annoyed with him.

“So back to being your slave again, huh?”

He leers at me. “Yeah, that’s what fledglings are for, you know?”

I just roll my eyes. “Sorry, bud, I’m not that gullible anymore.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it this time.” He kisses me and then adds, “I promise.”