De Motu Cordis ("On the Motion of the Heart and Blood")

[burnadette_dpdl]

Summary: Lestat and Louis in bed with a copy of William Harvey's De Motu Cordis. Sensuality ensues.

 

Note: This is in response to DD of Feb. 23, 2014. Prompt words used: Goldfish, Late, Memory. Thanks again to floatingleaf for beta-reading!

It just outgrew its wordcount limit very quickly and couldn't be edited back down. It ended where it ended bc it felt right. I plan to go further the next time they're in the mood like this.

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“Fuck, Louis,” I cried out. “That's a tendon!”

 

He gives me a fleeting glance, plants a few kisses as if fastening buttons on my chest, and retorts with a wicked smile, “Yes it is, Captain Obvious. It neighbors your brachial artery.” I lean back against the cushioned headboard as he resumes focus on the gash he's made near my bicep.

 

Lately his interest in anatomy has altered our dynamic in an exquisitely painful manner. With my gift of William Harvey's de Motu Cordis spread open beside us, he plots his exploration of my body as if he didn't already know every curve and valley by heart. He can play me like an instrument, even as I resist giving him the reactions he predicts.

 

Wordlessly, he guides me to lie on my side, his fingertips light but commanding. A quick check of the de Motu Cordis, and then he licks at the little open gash on my inner arm, keeping it open, tonguing it roughly, intensifying its burn as he twists that arm backwards with keen tension. Hard enough to make me let out a few choice curses, before rolling me onto my back. Something crunches under me and we pause. His long fingers skim around my shoulder, digging as carefully as an archaeologist gathering artifacts.

 

Crackers, Goldfish crackers, a sizable handful, which he's now crushing to powder, sprinkling over my chest like some kind of dusty baptism! I can feel the laughter immediately pressing from within and even though I hold it back, he can tell that it's barely stifled, which to him, is almost as rude as letting it go because his eyes light up, and mon dieu, here comes the freight train.

 

“LESTAT,” Untangling himself from me somewhat awkwardly. “I've told you more than once, if you have to constantly treat that animal, don't do it in YOUR BED.... “

 

“Oh, come on, don't ruin the moment, cher,” I snake an arm around his waist, reeling him tightly back against me. I'm nuzzling through the dark silk of his hair, against his cheek, taking in a deep breath of his scent. Meeting with no opposition, I undulate my naked hips for more height – a move I know he's susceptible to, especially when I am naked – licking his ear, piercing it, pulling it into my mouth to savor his blood on my tongue. Just the way he likes.

 

“It's just, ah...” he struggles slightly, but I'm playing him, now, and he knows it. “Just that.. the principle of the thing,” he's stammering now. It's adorable. I love to render him speechless. Even better when he tries to express himself anyway.

 

“Mmhmm, yes, principles... go on...” I'm plying him with deep pressure from my fingers now, too, targeting those places that melt him.

 

“Rules...” he slides a hand up my chest, pressing sweetly, as if that could slow my machinations.

 

“Who rules here?” I growl menacingly, releasing his ear with reluctance. I run a hand through his hair, clawing gently at his skin, weaving my fingers deeply and tugging down a little to tip his head back. I scrape right under his jawline with my tongue, hard and slowly. A few more licks like that will draw blood. On a mortal, it would have drawn blood already.

 

He gasps. Tries to catch my mouth with his. “Please, Lestat, this is unfair... unfair advantage...” I pull back, darting my tongue out to tease him when he tries to reach me, savoring the shiver that runs through him when our lips make the slightest contact.

 

“What 'unfair advantage'?” I pout. “We were going by your choices in the book, if memory serves.” I tap the book for emphasis, and then press him down flat, looming over him, casting a shadow across his perfect skin. “I was being-” dipping down to nip at his neck again, “fully,” doing it once more, “compliant.”

 

“Ah... yes... that's so.” He trembles, blushing. I can smell it and it is intoxicating, despite the fact that I’ve just had a taste already. Only an appetizer.

 

“So you agree that it's MY bed and I can do whatever I please in it?” I press my body against his, sliding down to gnaw at the wingspan of his clavicle, but it's my hand clawing at his throat that keeps him in thrall.

 

“Yes, of course... but,” it was his turn to cry out as I bit the same tendon he had attacked. Tendons get little blood flow, so I merely wet my lips with what little came out as the wound closed. He seized the opportunity of my brief reprieve. “You're going to give that dog diabetes.”

 

“Well, I don't deny those I love,” I gaze down at him, licking my lips, “what they want,” my heart picking up speed as he completely surrenders, tilting his head back in divine offering. “Especially in my bed.”

 
 Also posted here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1251502

 

Comments

Re: Scandalous

[floatingleaf]

Thanks, dear. Not that it matters, or that I ever intended to "make a claim" - which seems to imply having some sort of agenda, instead of merely stating a fact. But you know that anyway.:)