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"Clothes off, face down, in the coffin - you can read em to me while I fuck you."
Armand loves when Louis gets this way, hard faced and serious, his lips in a straight, stoic line as Armand lets him yank open his shirt, let's him kiss along his neck as Louis shove his pants down and kick off his trousers with his shoes and socks. Even if he’s afraid that Louis only acts like this for Armand’s benefit, he can’t help how hot it gets him.
Not to mention, a quarter of the coven is within earshot, eyesight, and range of smell. Louis’ status in Armand’s life is unavoidable as Armand moans loudly while Louis takes his coat off, kisses and sucks against Armand’s pulse point — if Armand is the coven Master and Louis is Armand’s Master, then the unspoken rule is that Louis is more important than any vampire on Earth. As Louis presses the hard outline of cock against Armand’s ass, Armand loves Louis so much he’d be willing to kill anyone who dared question them.
Naked as the day he was born, Armand steps away from Louis, can feel the other man’s eyes racking over his body, watching his ass as he moves. Armand uses an outstretched hand to direct the red curtains closed around the dirty windows of his office, simply to give them the illusion of privacy. Louis’ gaze is like a physical force, a third hand that runs over Armand’s shoulders, to his chest, down the globes of his ass, and finally over the hard swell of his cock. And if Armand was in a different mood, he’d use that opportunity to touch himself, to put on a show of jerking his cock for a moment, but tonight, Armand wants to be a good boy, at least enough to get away with some teasing.
Still, when Armand leans to drop Sam’s new script into his coffin where he can read it while Louis fucks him, he can knows Louis is staring, can feel his eyes zeroing in on the dark wetness between his legs.
When Louis seizes him from behind again, arms around Armand’s neck and chest, Armand almost laughs, because he knows what Louis’ saw, posed so that Louis could see the loose wetness of his hole in the first place. “You got yourself ready for me?” Louis demands in a low, excited voice, “when’d you have time to do this huh? You finger your ass open for me in your coffin all by yourself?”
Armand shivers in Louis’ grasp as he answers; “I spend my days thinking of you.”
And when his complement is rewarded with Louis’ hand wrapping around his hard, aching cock, Armand suppresses a whine, feels his whole body jerk at the feeling of Louis’ palm closing roughly around his sensitive skin. “I wanted to be ready to serve you at a moment’s notice, Maître. Is that to your liking?”
He hears Louis laugh, feels his chest rumble against his back. “Oh, it’s to my liking alright. I like it very much.” Louis tells him, “Now, get in the coffin like I asked you.”
Armand has to focus hard on not cumming untouched as Louis releases his cock, a surge of wetness welling from his swollen tip as he hurries into the coffin. He is face down, ass up, the script he’d promised to read long forgotten as Armand lays down.
Sounds echo behind him — Louis opening three drawers before he finds the frankincense oil Armand used some hours before, the slick sound of skin on skin as Louis coats his cock in copious amounts of liquid. Anticipation thrums through him and Armand shifts where he lays, cantts his hips so that his cock is no longer rubbing against the rough material beneath him, and uses both hands to spread his ass cheeks. “Shit.” He heard Louis’ grunt. “You drive me crazy.” Louis tells him.
And as Louis kneels above Armand, his knees bracketing the back of Armand’s legs, the wet sound of his hand on his cock has Armand shaking, has Armand feeling equally as crazy. When Louis pours more oil onto his already gaping, winking asshole, so much so that it costs the tips of Armand’s fingers, Armand lets out a whimper of “Louis.”
If Louis were more versed in his role, he might’ve scolded Armand, might’ve reminded him that he is to be addressed as Maître when they’re like this, but Louis is too worked up to notice his own slip-up and Armand doesn’t mind. This game he and Louis play is exhilarating, as interesting as it is familiar, and Armand enjoys Louis cock inside him too much to insist on rules he might have otherwise become obsessed with. Armand has been waiting so long for something like Louis can give him, has been playing the role of the powerful master to the point of gruesome monotony.
When Louis presses the wet tip of his penis against Armand’s wet hole, Armand wants to yell, wants to beg him not to tease, wants to cry out, and Louis must hear him, must hear the desperation in Armand’s lust addled mind, because before he can verbalize his wishes, Louis is pressing his cock inside of him, inch by inch by inch.
Armand cries out, truly whimpering for the second time that night, and he can hear Santiago whistle somewhere in the theater, but he couldn’t care who hears or sees them in the slightest. Nothing matters as Louis bottoms out, throbs inside of Armand as he moans deep in his chest. When one of Louis' arms lays next to Armand’s head as he gets comfortable, Armand can’t help but test the feeling of Louis deep inside him, can’t help but squeeze the silky inner walls of his ass around the hard intrusion of Louis. “Fuck.” Louis groans through clenched teeth.
“Is this to your liking, Maître?” Armand prompts breathlessly.
“Yes, fuck.” Louis groans, his breath fanning against Armand’s neck, his voice right in Armand’s ear, “you feel so good, baby, you make me feel so good. You’re so tight, so wet — fuck, I can’t believe you opened your ass up for me like this.”
“Anything for you,” Armand moans as he starts to wiggle against Louis, feels like tight curls of Louis pubic hair tickling the cleft of his spread ass as he starts to slowly rock his hips backward, “I would do anything you asked me to, I would do anything you wanted, Maître. Please, fuck me, please.”
Louis growls against him, the sound reverberating through Armand’s back and shoulders as he presses flush against him, grabs Armand with one bruising hand around his hip. “Don’t you move,” Louis threatens, “don’t move a muscle. You want me to fuck you? Hold still, I’m gonna fuck your like a piece of meat, boy.”
And Armand doesn't even have the time to beg before Louis is bracing his hand against the coffin floor and pounding into him. He thrusts once, twice, thrice, pushing all manner of cries from Armand’s open lips with his steel-hard cock and Louis is fucking into Armand hard and fast. The sound of his balls against Armand’s ass echo through the coven master’s office, so like the time they fucked in the swinger’s park that Armand shivers from
the memory. Armand’s cheek is chafing where he’s laid it against the velvet interior of his coffin and he couldn’t care less. He’s moaning and crying, whimpering and grunting as Louis fuck him, the pet name boy echoing around his lust-empty head.
As soon as Louis hears the thought in his mind, his hand tightens against the meat of Armand’s hip, he presses himself against Armand like he wants to hurt him, and says. “You like being fucked like this, boy? You like Maître’s cock up your ass, boy?”
Armand briefly wonders if he could get away with fucking back against Louis as he shivers to the sound of his words. “Yes, Maître, yes, yes.”
Louis chuckles even though Armand knows he’s enjoying this too, knows it makes Louis feel larger than life when he fucks Armand like this, when he plays the role of Maître. “Yeah,” Louis groans, “you’re gonna like this too.”
And when Louis bats Armand’s hands away from where he’s spread himself open, presses down into Armand so that his cock is flush against the velvet of Armand’s coffin lining, Armand almost cums instantly.
Instead, he goes quiet, stays still like the good boy he is as Louis fucks him so that the tip of his cock spears against Armand’s prostate with every fast, jerking thrust. Armand’s already decided that he doesn’t want to cum until Louis tells him he’s allowed to, but his cock is weeping with every brush of his cocktip against his sweet spot, and Armand doesn’t know if his body will obey his Maître’s unspoken command for much longer.
Luckily, Armand knows that Louis isn’t far behind — he’s been fucking Louis long enough that he knows when Louis starts to moan and gasp, when the iron wall of performative masculinity he erects begins to soften, he’s going to cum.
When Louis asks Armand so sweetly in his mind, “are you alright baby? You close?” Armand nods with a wilted whimper.
“Gonna cum on my cock?” Louis asks out loud, gruffness in his voice that he never has in his mind.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” Armand chants desperately, “Yes, Maître, yes.”
And then, Louis' teeth are in Armand’s neck, sucking in mouthfuls of his blood, and the swoon hits them both. Armand is cumming in thick white ropes all over the lining of his coffin as he feels Louis throb and pulse hotly inside of him.
Armand hardly has his faculties about him when he realizes Louis crying. His cock still buried in his ass, his lips still stained with Armand’s blood, and he is crying blood tears into Armand’s back. “Louis?” Armand asks a little too loudly.
“I’m fine, ‘m fine.” Louis instantly whispers, “I’m fine baby, thank you, I’m okay.”
But Armand knows he’s not. When Louis pulls out of him, his arms still wrapped around Armand’s chest as he hides his face in Armand’s hair, Armand catches a glimpse of the turbulent whirlwind of Louis' thoughts. Louis is scared and sad, there is an air of desperation as he thinks of all the material things he wants to use to make his life feel worth living and Armand realizes, as he quietly listens to Louis think, that he’s come to seek refuge in Armand’s body in an attempt to keep his foul thoughts away.
“It’s alright, my love, it’s okay.” Armand reassures as he lets Louis hold him, “I’m right here, my beloved.”
Behind him, Louis is nodding against his curls, and when Armand turns to face him, he welcomes a deep, tender kiss.
Armand is troubled when Louis rises and can barely look at him, watches closely as he redresses hurriedly, though when Louis turns back to whisper, “I love you.” Armand must trust when the other man tells him he’s fine.
At least, Armand thinks, Louis will sleep beside someone he loves when he departs to return to his apartment where he lives in blissful freedom with Claudia. As Armand lays in his coffin, his own cum cooling on his stomach, he knows that no one in the theater loves him a fraction as much as Louis and Claudia love each other, despite all of their fights and disagreements. Armand doesn’t leave his office for the rest of the night, shielding his thoughts as he wonders what the coven will have to say after they’ve heard his and Louis’ coupling, what thinly veiled insults they’ll sling at him this time.
And maybe, as Santiago takes more control of the theater Armand has devoted so many centuries to running, the newfound leadership will be so distracted by the glamor of his new role he won’t notice if he and Louis one day quietly slip away.