As soon as the lock clicks shut, Lestat melts into Louis like sugar melts into shallow, simmering water, sweet syrup that scalds as it clings. He makes a tiny noise into Louis' mouth nearly like a purr as his tongue, no longer apologetic, delves hungrily past Louis' swollen lip.
It's one of the great pleasures in life to be wanted. Lestat enjoys it often. He has suffered dreadfully from the absence of want from the one person from whom it means the most, Louis' baffling insistence on restraining himself from what he desires worse than ever in the cold.
But here is Louis, letting himself have what he wants. Here is Louis, asking such a wonderful question that it justifies the brief parting of their lips - a parting he mollifies himself through by slipping his knee between Louis' as his weight pins him to the door.
"I want nothing more," he murmurs, eyes half-closed, heavy with desire - for everything, heart and body and soul, as it was in the garden, as it is every night. "I hardly sleep without you."
cw: a little blood, goddamn it, a little nsfw
It's one of the great pleasures in life to be wanted. Lestat enjoys it often. He has suffered dreadfully from the absence of want from the one person from whom it means the most, Louis' baffling insistence on restraining himself from what he desires worse than ever in the cold.
But here is Louis, letting himself have what he wants. Here is Louis, asking such a wonderful question that it justifies the brief parting of their lips - a parting he mollifies himself through by slipping his knee between Louis' as his weight pins him to the door.
"I want nothing more," he murmurs, eyes half-closed, heavy with desire - for everything, heart and body and soul, as it was in the garden, as it is every night. "I hardly sleep without you."