Work Header

Drunk on Your Love: Mozart x Jean

Work Text:

It was late in the evening when Mozart had entered the dining hall to give Sebastian a bottle of red wine.

“Sebas, I’ll give this to you- hang on…”

He cut his sentence short noticing that Sebastian was not present but another member of the mansion was. Jean, a gorgeous and mysterious man stood in front of him, one that he frequently spoke with since he arrived at the mansion. His hair was the shade of midnight and his one revealed eye reflected a darker amethyst then his own.

“Hm?”, a questioning hum came from Jean’s lips as he stared back at Mozart.

“Jean.” He said his name plainly, his words coming off casual in the comfort of Jean’s presence. “Have you seen Sebas?”

Jean explained that Sebastian had gone out shopping and wouldn’t return until later. Mozart looked to have some conflicting concerns about the butler's absence so Jean felt the need to ask, “Is something wrong?”

Mozart looked down at the bottle of red wine in his hands, holding it out to show Jean and explained that he had received the bottle while in town as a gift. It was the time of year that the harvest festival was held, and it was likely given to him in celebration.

“I thought I’d give it to Sebas and have him serve it at dinner time.” Sounding now slightly annoyed, Mozart lowered the bottle back to his side, “But I can hardly arrange that if he’s not here.” He didn’t want to leave the bottle out, he would rather give it to Sebastian to serve so everyone could enjoy it together.

Jean’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Mozart’s disappointed face, “Mozart. If someone gave you that as a gift, shouldn’t you drink it yourself?” Jean knew enough of the world to know that a gift should be enjoyed by its receiver, though he rarely received gifts of his own.

Mozart raised an eyebrow at the man, “I certainly can’t drink this entire bottle by myself.” He had indulged in drinking socially at events, but never was so lush to consume it in private by himself.

“... I’m here.” Jean’s eyes looked away from Mozart and his voice was but a whisper as he shyly hoped Mozart would interpret his claim.

“What?” Mozart wasn’t quick to pick up on Jean’s subtle request. A frown spread across Jean's face as he momentarily questioned the friendship between them.

Without knowing how to explain further, he repeated himself slowly, “I’m here, too.”

Mozart’s eyes widened when he realized what Jean was offering, “I have never seen you drink so much as a single drop of alcohol.” He would never push Jean into doing something he wasn’t used to, and as a person who never drank alcohol, Mozart worried about the effects of suddenly now consuming it.

Jean stood proud, “I should be able to handle my alcohol.” But looked away when he realized his baseless claim, “...Probably.”

Mozart couldn’t help but chuckle, “What do you mean, probably?”

“I’ve only ever tried alcohol once.” Jean sighed, his mortal life being so short and turbulent that he never had the chance to humor drinking. Jean's lips formed a thin line when he thought back to his mortal life as he explained that he was never able to drink because he often led troops. He watched as his comrades drank, laughed and conversed while sharing a drink, but he himself was surrounded by an aura of loneliness. It was then that Mozart realized the reason Jean had offered to drink the wine with him, Jean considered Mozart a friend and wanted to share a moment like that with him. Mozart had no plans for the evening to compose or play his piano, both of which would be difficult after consuming alcohol, so he decided that spending the night with Jean might not be so bad. Jean was honest and genuine, and never sought to use another person for his own benefit.

Curious to know how alcohol could affect his quiet and solemn friend, Mozart agreed to have a drink. “Let’s drink together tonight.” Mozart watched as a small smile spread across Jean's face, one he had rarely seen before.

They sat at the table in the hall, and before long the bottle was open. He poured Jean a small bit of wine to start, just in case the effects were negative. They held their glasses up with a smile, and clinked them together in celebration of their party of two, “Cheers.”

“This is good wine. It has a rich, full-bodied palate.” Mozart had tasted several dozens of wines from all over the world in his travels, becoming somewhat of an expert in discerning their taste.

“...” Jean remained silent, but slowly his body began to lean into Mozart's.

“Jean. I think you’re a little too close.” Mozart looked over at his friend who had drawn even closer to him.

“I think you’re imagining things.” Jean’s blushed cheeks showed that the wine had indeed given its desired effect.

Mozart sighed in defeat, “...Fine.”

“...” Jean’s body rocked a few times before finally resting fully against Mozart's.

“Jean, I really do think you’re too close.” Mozart frowned a bit, curious as to why his friend who once kept everyone at arm's length was now cuddled against him.

“I think you’re imagining things.” Jean repeated himself in earnest.

“Jean-” Mozart's eyes narrowed in a hazed thought. “No, I’m not imagining things.” Jean had plastered his face against Mozart's, the contact causing him to now also have a small blush. He couldn’t help but smile at Jean, who seemed to be enjoying the contact. “It’s completely abnormal for our cheeks to be smushed together like this.”

Jean’s eyes looked a bit unfocused as he side eyed Mozart, “Aren’t you the one that’s being abnormal?”


Jean saw the large grin that was spread across Mozart’s face, “Well, why are you grinning like that?”

“I don’t think I’m any different than normal.” His haughty voice had faded into a more mild and tender tone.


Jean was practically resting in Mozart’s lap, their chairs had been pushed closer during their exchange. He lazily pulled his face from Mozart's and began staring at him.

Mozart, sensing the loss of the warmth of his cheek, turned his head to look at Jean. Their faces were close, almost too close. “Jean, why are you staring at me like that?” The unfocused look in his deep purple and half lidded eye caused a stir in Mozart’s mind.

Jean watched as Mozart turned his head, bringing the glass of red wine to his lips, the motion was elegant, and the bob in his throat as he swallowed drew his attention to his lean and pulsating neck. The wine looked much like rouge, and the sudden realization of his dry throat caused his fangs to itch ever so slightly.

Mozart placed his glass on the table, a small drip of wine running down the stem of the glass and staining the white table cloth below. “Jean.” He turned his head and Jean leaned in slightly more, his eye still focused on the thin delicate skin of Mozart's neck. Noticing that Jean wasn’t responding to the call of his name, Mozart hooked a finger under his chin and brought Jean’s gaze back to his eyes. “When is the last time you have eaten?”

Jean swallowed hard, the dryness causing him to lick his lips, “It’s been a few days.”

“I told you to stop starving yourself.” Mozart had moved his face closer to Jeans, still holding his fingers under his chin. He could feel the heat in Jean’s breaths, now becoming ragged with apparent thirst. A look of vulnerability and desperation flashed across Jean’s face, “The way you are looking at my neck…” Mozart hovered his lips over Jeans, any slight movement would cause them to brush as he whispered an offer too tempting, “Would you like to drink from me?”

Jean’s lips were trembling, he could see the flame of desire burning in Mozart’s eyes but was this really what he wanted or had the alcohol taken hold of all of his senses? Whether it be the desire of his own, his vampirism or the alcohol, there was no denying that he had felt a sense of curiosity toward the offer. Mozart was his friend, and he knew that anything he had in mind wouldn’t hurt him.

“Well?” Mozart whispered one last time as he watched Jean’s quivering lips and wavering eyes. If Jean didn’t answer soon, he would rescind his offer as a simple joke, though he was strangely feeling a tightness in his chest for the anticipated rejection.

“Maybe… I’ll enjoy it more… If it’s yours.”

The smirk that spread across Mozart’s face was one of relief and lust. His slackened lips brushed lightly across Jeans, moistening them while testing the boundary of his friends' resolve. Jean had closed his eyes, relaxing his body to allow Mozart to take control, his body easing into a lustful trance. After Mozart placed a few light kisses to Jean’s lips he dropped his hand from his chin, pulling away to speak again, “We should move somewhere more private, anyone could walk in here. Is my room alright with you?”

Jean's eyes snapped open, looking around in horror at the realization that they could be caught. “L-let’s do that…” He pushed his chair out and wobbled a bit to his feet. The alcohol was still affecting him but the powers of a vampire were strong, quickly chasing the buzz from his system. Mozart stood with his usual calm elegance, his constitution and tolerance was much higher then his dear friends. They walked quickly to Mozart’s room and shut the door, thankfully not running into the other members of the mansion on their way. No sooner, the door was locked, and the men stood in the quiet, cool darkness of the room.

Wasting no time, and not allowing any change of mind to cross either of them, Mozart removed his coat, throwing it to the chair by his desk. “Jean, make yourself comfortable.”

“You’re taking off your clothes…?” Jean was surprised at how comfortable Mozart was with the situation.

“How else are you going to drink from me?”

“I suppose you are right.” Jean cautiously began to unbutton his coat as his eye locked onto Mozart who was now sitting at the edge of the bed. With each button grew uncertainty as he watched Mozart’s once bright violet eyes turn dark and dilated with desire. “Are you sure this is…”

“Yes.” Mozart’s low toned voice cut off his sentence. He wasn’t going to allow Jean to go unfed, and if it was his blood that would fix that then he was more than willing.

Once Jean freed himself from his coat, he tossed it on the same chair and approached the edge of the bed, sitting next to Mozart. Mozart could see the small blush still on Jean’s face from the alcohol and presumptive shyness toward the situation. With his long delicate fingers on the side of Jean’s face, he guided him to look him in the eyes once more. “Jean…” Mozart whispered over the young man's slightly parted lips as he got closer, both of their eyes fluttering closed in anticipation of that electrifying feeling when soft lips meet. They started off slow, but soon Jean’s soft moaning allowed Mozart to slip his tongue inside. He prodded his tongue around in his mouth, while his hand slid from his cheek and down his neck letting both his hands work the buttons on Jeans shirt. Their kisses became frantic as more skin became exposed, Jeans shirt now discarded on the floor as he mimicked Mozart and started to release the buttons of the musicians shirt.

Shirtless, the men's hands started to explore each other's bodies. Mozart is lithe, with lean muscles across his body, especially his arms. His hands were always a wonder to Jean, so soft and well manicured but also toned and flexible from being a pianist. Jean's body is that of a chiseled warrior, also lean, but his muscles were firm and visible. Though he was much more powerful than Mozart from his continued training with a sword, his touch was gentle and hesitant.

Mozart was first to let his hands fall to the waist of the other man's pants, slowly undoing the buckle to release the taut erection now formed. “Stand.” Mozart's simple command was followed and as Jean stood, he dropped his pants, kicking them to the side. Unsure if Jean would feel comfortable removing another man's pants, Mozart took it upon himself to undo his own belt and free his now achingly hard member from its confine. Now entirely nude, they sat back at the edge of the bed and without missing a beat, Mozart took Jean’s lips again. His hand now glided up Jean’s thigh and his palm brushed against the strained erection, Jean moaning at the touch. His skilled fingers wrapped around the large shaft, and began slowly pumping, a bead of precum forming at the tip of Jean's swollen head.

The slow pumping of Mozart's hand caused Jean's thirst to become unbearable. His fangs were now fully extended, and Mozart accidentally scraped his tongue across one. “Ah!...” Mozart's mouth quickly left Jeans as a searing heat flowed from the tip of his tongue through his entire body, causing him to tremble with desire. His hand stopped rubbing on the hard member, lazily falling back to Jean’s lap from the sudden loss of his concentration.

The increased panting and reddened cheeks caused Jean to become concerned for his friend, “Are you alright Mozart?”

“Mmm… It's just… I knew about the effects… I didn’t expect it to be this intense.” He touched the tip of his tongue with his thumb, a bead of blood staining his finger.

“The effects?” Jean looked questioningly at Mozart who then realized that Jean had no idea about the effects that a vampires bite has on a person.

“Ah… You didn’t know… A vampire bite causes a rather intense sensation of euphoria. In other words… Pleasure.”

“Oh…” Jean was listening, but the sight of the streak of blood on Mozart’s thumb was drawing his attention, his thirst was taking away the last shreds of his control. His shaky hand took Mozarts, lifting the pad of his thumb to his mouth to run his tongue across the still fresh blood. “Nng…” The sudden taste of fresh blood flooded his senses, and soon the world seemed like a blur as he pushed his friend down on the bed, pinning him to the sheets.

“Jean…” Mozart watched as his friend's eye became glazed, and not to his surprise, Jean was incredibly strong. Even with his vampiric strength, there was no way that he would be able to push him off, nor did he care to try at this point.

“...” Jean wasn’t responding, his breath ragged and hot on Mozart's neck. Mozart could tell the pure-hearted man on top of him was fighting every urge to not bite him. Jean had regretted becoming a vampire and felt impure, disgusting and disgraceful but Mozart knew he was none of these things.

Mozart threaded a hand through Jean’s silky midnight hair, pressing his face closer to the pulsing on his neck, “Go ahead Jean, drink from me.”

Jean responded with a strangled groan but soon his tongue ran along the thin skin of his neck, testing for the best spot to draw blood. Seconds later Mozart felt the painful pinch of his fangs sinking into his skin. “AH!” He flinched but the pain quickly subsided as the pleasure began to spread through his body. Jean was gasping and sucking desperately at the stream of nectar flowing from the openings created by his fangs. The sound of him drinking only drove Mozart more mad as his body became consumed in a flaming heat, his hips shamelessly bucking into Jean’s body. This only spurred Jean further, the two small holes were not enough as he let his mouth trail down, biting into Mozart's neck again for more. “Jean!” The increased flow of blood caused another sensation to course through Jean, desire. He found his hand wandering down Mozart’s abdomen until it reached his stiffened member and he started pumping with long and slow strokes.

Jean's lips left his neck for only a moment, “Does… this… feel good?” He’s voice was needy but questioning, he was still having some doubts.

“It feels incredible…” Mozart was overcome with a feeling he had never felt before. Between the bites and the strong hand of the young man on top of him moving up and down on his shaft, he was losing all sense. His fangs itched to bite Jean as well, but he would wait a little longer in order to allow his friend to drink his fill.

Jean pumped faster on the white haired man's erection, lapping at the blood on his neck and soon, sinking his fangs in once more to feel that gushing sensation of fresh blood spilling from the wound.

It was too much for Mozart who struggled between the thought of letting him continue or stopping him but the burning pleasure caused him to throw his head back instinctively, allowing Jean better access to his neck. His pulsing erection soon flexed, his orgasm flashing through his body, and his cum spilling onto his chest. It was the most pleasurable orgasm he had ever felt, but soon he noticed that Jean was still indulging on his blood. His mind started to become hazy as Jean drained him, but pushing on his shoulders only caused Jean to grab both his wrists and pin them down above his head. The weight of Jean’s body riveted his own into the sheets and he could feel Jean’s erection rubbing against his thigh. “JEAN!” He sternly yelled the young man's name, certain that someone in the mansion had probably heard him but it was enough to snap Jean out of his blood drinking frenzy.

“Mo… zart… it's so warm… and delicious…” Each breath was irregular as Jean tried to contain the overwhelming feeling of Mozart's blood filling him. As his eye focused, he noticed the compromising position he had pinned his friend in and quickly released his iron grip on the man's delicate wrists. The scent of fresh blood permeated the air and soaked the sheets below from the haphazard way he had bitten and drank from Mozart. He noticed the beads of cum dripping from the still flexing muscle of the musician as they both struggled to catch their breath. “Are you alright Mozart? Did I hurt you?”

Mozart was still trying to calm the raging heat searing through his body but he managed to respond, “I am… fine... “

“Did I take too much blood?”

“You need not worry about that Jean.” Mozart didn’t want to be truthful in that moment, for fear of causing Jean to shut down entirely. Having been drained of blood and brought over the edge of his orgasm, Mozart's fangs were now screaming to sink themselves into Jean's flesh. He was so thirsty, and the smell of his own blood in the air was causing his vampirism to take over. “Though... “ He gently urged Jean, who was still straddling his lap, to lay back on the bed. “I may need to partake in you as well.”

Jean was accepting, it was only right that Mozart would get to drink from him as well. Now temporarily spared from his bloodlust, he took notice that the usually fair skinned Mozart looked a bit pale and his fangs were fully extended from his gums. He recalled Mozart describing the feeling of being bitten causing an overwhelming pleasurable sensation, and it was evident from the musicians moaning that this was true. Never having the time to even think about his own desires during his short mortal life, Jean now seemed curious of what pleasures being with another person could entail. Drinking the warm blood of another person was significantly more satisfying than drinking it from a cold decanter, but the nature of a vampire drinking another vampire's blood meant the satisfaction wouldn’t last as long as blood from a human. Nonetheless, the blood coursing through Jeans veins felt intoxicating, much more than that of a glass of wine. Seeing the man he called his friend now straddling his lap, pupils blown open with desire, beads of cum still splashed across his abdomen and chest, and the drips of blood still falling from his neck and shoulder only drove him more mad with curiosity to be bitten himself.

With only a few moments to gather his thoughts, Mozart's lips were on his again, this time hungrily seeking to extinguish his own bloodlust. Being drained of blood and seeing the red stained sheets below Jean only intensified his feelings of hunger. Jeans lips tasted like his own blood, and he prodded his tongue deeper to taste every drop from the young man's mouth. One hand found its way into his midnight hair, pulling his head back and exposing Jean’s neck to waiting fangs. As Mozart trailed kisses down his chin and neck, he used his other hand to hold the throbbing length between Jean’s legs. He stroked the man gently at first, laying a rain of hungry kisses and test bites to Jean's neck before finding the perfect spot in the dip before his shoulder where the pulse below his thin skin thrummed hardest with anticipation. Mozart tried to be patient but his mind was clouding, the smell of the sweet nectar running through Jean’s veins was too much to handle. He hurriedly pumped the young man's large erection, “Jean… I can’t…”

“Then don’t.” Jean knew what he was going to say, Mozart couldn’t wait any longer to feed, the desire was stripping away his usual controlled composure. He could feel Mozart's mouth open wide, and soon felt the sharp prick of his fangs sinking into the curve of his neck. The pain only lasted a moment before the searing hot pleasure spread through his body. Mozart drank hungrily, the sounds of sipping, moaning and swallowing driving him to the edge of orgasm. He had never felt pleasure like this before, and as described, it was overwhelming every part of his body. The tension quickly built as Mozart stroked his erection faster and harder and cum soon spilled over his belly while Mozart finished lapping at the last few drops of blood that beaded from the open wound.

Mozart’s head fell, his forehead pressed against Jeans still heaving chest as both the men struggled to catch their breath. “Jean…”

“Hmm?” Jean hummed, still trying to recover from the fiery sensation coursing through his body.

Mozart finally sat up, staring into the still hazy and darkened eye of the young man below him. “Did you find that enjoyable?”

Jean nodded, “I was right, if it's you… I can manage.”

Mozart reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a cloth to clean himself and Jean off, noting that his sheets were completely soiled and would need changed before he slept in them.

“You will still need to drink rouge.” Vampires feeding off of other vampires would only temporarily stave off bloodlust.

“I know…” Jean realized how much clearer his mind was after drinking from Mozart, a feeling that he could get used to if his friend would allow it.

“And stop starving yourself.” Mozart’s voice was stern but caring as he watched Jean sit up in bed with an unsure look in his eye. “Also…” Mozart moved across the bed, “I must say,” He hooked Jean’s chin with his fingers and guided his dark amethyst eye to his own, “Drinking from you was better than any wine, so let's agree to do this again.”

The smile on Jean’s face was wide with contentment, Mozart had recognized and accepted his feelings, expressing that his thoughts were mutual. Jean didn’t have to feel disgusting or disgraceful toward being a vampire, there was someone in his life that accepted him for who he was. With a gentle kiss and the intermingling taste of their blood still fresh, the men headed to Jean’s room to sleep knowing that there would be many centuries of friendship ahead.