inbox for saltburnt;

[perfectionner]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME:
LESTAT

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Comments

[missed]

[ louis' body prickles with want as lestat's mouth makes a map of his body, committing it to memory. he can't help but sway softly into each press of tongue and lips, head falling back for a moment to enjoy the sensation. he wants lestat and there's no doubt that his aching cock shows it, twitching when lestat comes so close but dances away. teasing little minx. ]

You talkin' about yourself down there again?

[ he huffs a laugh, smoothing lestat's hair back from his face, tangling his fingers in the thick waves just as he feels wet, hot heat envelop him. he groans, green eyes blowing out as he looks down at his lover, mouth full and heavy with him. his fingers tighten in his hair, nails pricking at his scalp, his whole body taught with tension at the sudden, lewd pleasure of it. ]

You look so good. Feel so good.

[perfectionner]

Mm.

[ Louis would come up with a retort like that when his mouth is otherwise occupied, forcing Lestat into the brief internal debate about whether he should interrupt himself, pulling away from Louis in the process, to offer a comeback of his own. It seems less sensible, though, when he already has Louis thick and throbbing on his tongue, and mustering words would risk diverting him further.

He chooses to bask in this instead — Louis' fingers, threading through his hair, until pointed nails subtly dig into his scalp. There's no breaking of skin, no spilling of blood, but the pleasurable addition of pain elicits a groan that ends up muffled around Louis' shaft, makes Lestat's cock twitch against the confines of his own trousers.

The way he's applying himself to sucking Louis off should make it perfectly clear that he's not rushing this; it doesn't matter that they're in the bar, on the stage itself. He'd do the same even if they had a spotlight on them and an enraptured audience filling every seat. There's no room for shame, no room for hesitation — not when he'd spent so many long nights in isolation craving something exactly like this. He groans again, slipping a hand down to grind the heel of his palm against his own cock, and doubles his efforts with a lewd, wet, slow rhythm. ]