Ignore me, I'm just yapping

Lestat was still angry about the tambourine even after the crowd had gone wild for them, even after they got off stage, even under Larry now. He was straddling Lestat, his own back pressed into the headboard. No space existed between them. And still, Lestat felt a sliver of rage seeping through him. Emotion had always washed over him in waves, flooding every part of him. Especially things like anger, frustration, fear, insecurity. 

When it came to negative emotions, the waves felt more like a tsunami. He was buried inside of Larry and he wasn't entirely relaxed. Holding grudges had always been an issue for him, but one he'd done little to fix over the years. There hadn't been a reason to yet and Larry certainly wasn't going to be the thing that changed that. 

Larry looked gorgeous like this, his head tipped back and eyes closed. He made these soft noises deep in his throat, sharper when Lestat would thrust up to meet his movements. Lestat's head spun a bit, still worked up from how it had been on stage. It was so unlike anything else before and the knowledge that he had been wrong coiled uncomfortably around his stomach. Still, Larry never should have questioned him. 

Lestat's own head leaned back and he tamped down the irritation. Larry moved harder against him, energetic and shaking Lestat to his core. It nearly sent tremors through his body, but he held strong and met Larry's movements with his own. He could focus only on Larry now, the world shrinking down until it was just them. He was unlike most of the men Lestat had fucked. With the others, he most often found himself in control. 

They would lie there and moan for him. It was gorgeous, of course, watching them fall apart under him. They didn't take what they wanted from him, though. They often let him do whatever he wanted. Larry was constantly pushing back when it came to Lestat. In every way he could. 

He argued with Lestat and ignored his demands. He spoke deliberately and smiled with a smugness that proved he knew what he was doing. He wanted to get under Lestat's skin and God, he did. More than once, Lestat had to talk himself down from simply killing him. It would be too much of a hassle. 

In moments like this, he was glad for his self-restraint. His hips snapped up to meet Larry, putting more force behind it than he really should. His body was still buzzing from the energy of their show and he found it hard to care what he should do. And admittedly, part of him wanted it to hurt. 

He'd wanted it to hurt when he grabbed Larry by the chin earlier, when he had shaken him roughly. When he'd snapped that the next time he told him to pick up the tambourine, he had better pick up the fucking tambourine. Anger flooded him even more when Larry grinned and pointed out that the crowd loved it. Without the tambourine. 

He hadn't expected Larry to kiss him, but he wasn't shocked when he kissed back. Fucking and fighting were more similar than most people wanted to accept. Both were good ways for him to get his frustrations out too. One would work as well as the other. He supposed if he chose the former, it also saved him from having to find a new lead guitarist. Although, he hadn't expected to end up with Larry feeling he was in control here. 

Larry leaned to kiss him again, his movements never faltering even with all the drinks in his system. As attractive as it was, Lestat wasn't entirely sure how to give up that control so completely. He could still vividly remember the last time he felt the control stripped away from him, someone else making the decisions. It wasn't something he wanted to go back to and that need for the upper hand mixed dangerously with the anger he still felt. 

He kissed Larry roughly, teeth unforgiving against his mouth. Larry met him with the same temperament, just as rough as Lestat was with him. Fingers dug deep into Lestat's hair and held tight enough to burn. It felt more like a fight, one Lestat had to win. His hands found the space above Larry's thighs and nails dug into the sensitive skin there, smelling the drops of blood that beaded there. 

Larry gasped against him and Lestat relished in it, but it didn't last long. Teeth caught Lestat's lip hard enough to draw blood. He could feel the smile on Larry's lips when his hips jerked. As smug as he had been before, just as defiant and irritating. Lestat's hold tightened on him and flipped them. The movement was too fast, although Larry didn't seem to notice or care. 

His eyes were wide and unfocused as he looked up at Lestat, his lips parted in a soft whine. He was truly something else. On the stage, Larry's music had hit him like an earthquake. It shook the world around Lestat, had forced him down onto the floor, and had left him disoriented. Energy pulsed through him the way seismic waves did and he could do nothing to overpower it. 

He took back the most control he could. Pressing Larry's knees closer to his chest, he wasted no time before he began fucking into him again. He had more room to pull back and more leverage to fuck Larry like he meant it, and the effect was immediate. His body clenched around him and a soft groan escaped him. His eyes closed again, tighter this time around. 

Normally, Lestat didn't get into the heads of his band mates. Mostly because they were irritating enough when they spoke, let alone hearing their thoughts. He couldn't help himself now, though. He dipped into Larry's head for just a moment, just long enough to make sure he wasn't pretending Lestat was someone else. Larry's mind was nearly blank, feeling far more than he was thinking. 

That alone stroked Lestat's ego and he closed Larry's mind off to himself once again. He was less smug like this, not questioning Lestat or talking back to him. He fucked into him harder, although he kept himself from truly hurting Larry. He didn't want to deal with that right now. If they did this again, maybe then he would get a bit rougher. 

"You're far better like this," Lestat murmured out because he couldn't leave well enough alone. "You're being so good for me," Larry's eyes opened and his eyebrows furrowed at him. 

He moved upwards the most he could, seeking another kiss from Lestat. Though the wound had healed over, Lestat could still taste his own blood. His hand shot out to catch Larry by the throat. He forced his head back down against the bed, keeping the gap between them. It drew a whine from Larry and Lestat took note of everything that he seemed to like. 

He prided himself on being good in bed, on doing things to people that no one else had. This and singing, those were two of the things he was the best at. He was content enough as long as Larry was taken over by him. 

His free hand moved between them and wrapped around Larry's cock. He'd considerd making Larry come on his cock alone. He could guarantee no one else had done that to Larry before. Further proof that this was something Lestat was not only good at, but the best at. 

He stroked him in time with his thrusts. He was as rough as he dared to be. He was rougher with Larry than anyone else, setting a punishing pace. None of it was enough to truly hurt him even though Lestat wanted to. Even his hand on his throat didn't grasp too tightly. 

"See? So good," Lestat told him, unable to resist adding another insult to it all. 

Larry didn't react to the words this time, words seemingly unable to form and his mind not focusing. Lestat fucked him harder, hitting deep with each thrust. His body was so warm underneath Lestat, his heart beating hard in his chest. 

Ultimately, Larry came first. Of course, he did. Lestat wouldn't let it happen any other way. He clenched tightly around Lestat and the loudest sound Larry let it escaped him, moaning rough and ragged. 

His body trembled and his hands found Lestat's body to try to pull him closer. Lestat let him, his hand moving away from his throat. His other hand stroked Larry through it all as he clung to him and gasped. He could feel the wet warmth between them where Larry had come on his own stomach. 

He didn't slow, fucking Larry through the floods of pleasure. When his noises turned from pleasure to nearly pain, Lestat smiled and felt himself growing closer as well. Larry squirmed restlessly, quickly becoming overstimulated. Blunt nails dug into Lestat's skin, stinging a bit. It seemed to drag on, but Lestat finally came. 

Burying himself deep, he spilled and fucked Larry through that as well. He looked wrecked when Lestat pulled away from his body. Blood had begun drying on his hips where Lestat had clawed at him, hair messy and his eyes glossy. His body shook with the aftershocks of it all. He was covered in his own come and sweat, his skin slightly pinker from the exertion. 

Lestat climbed off the bed, already tired of the mess covering his own skin. He needed some space between them anyway. He was still upset and the aftermath of this left him feeling worse. Larry had been right, his solo had been what the crowd had wanted. They hadn't missed the tambourine or his own violin. 

Sure, the venue had shaken around them when he finally joined back in. The crowd seemed to cause an earthquake by their excitement alone and that should have been good enough. It should've made him happy. It wasn't for just him, though. He didn't know how to contend with the fact he wasn't the sole focus anymore. 

By all rights, he should have been. It was him at center stage. It was his name on the signs. And yet, his own sound had faded off and people still cheered. They had reached for Larry like he was still the one in charge. On the bed, he could hear Larry sitting up and searching for his own clothes.