The red crescent on his lips stings with the momentary struggle of hunger and hunger. He licks and sucks the blood off Lestat's lips when he can find it in himself to part from the soft slickness of his tongue. He can feel his inevitably protruding fangs tasting the blood in the air and gliding across vulnerable skin. They have to be so careful now.
"Fuck--" He exhales a heated breath with lopsided control through parted lips as he's pressed against the sturdy door. His hand at Lestat's neck traces the line of his shoulders before slipping into his hair. His other splays across the furrow of his lower back just discernible through his jacket and tugs him, as if the strong thigh between his legs wasn't enough for him to arch against. It's easier to let go when he's held; someone else holds him in his shape like a vase holds water. All this is at odds with the hesitant way he asked to stay over.
One night asleep and dead to the world would be a balm. For the troubled Louis, this is just as much of a temptation as the low heat in his belly winding him taut. What was it Lestat said humans could only think about? Hunger, sex, and going home? Food, companionship, and shelter aren't bad priorities to have, and vampires are kidding themselves if they think they are immune to these wants. The dilation in Louis's mirror-like eyes and the crimson thinly smeared on his chin and kiss-softened lips should be proof enough.
"Then grab your gun and let's get out of here."
Louis thinks the investigation would interrupt their dalliance whether they made noise or were silent as the corpses in the next room. Louis is not above breaking into a house and getting carnal in it, but there is a ridiculous poster in the office in this house of the Lord asking What Would Jesus Do?. The savior himself stares placidly at Louis in an almost bored way. It's off-putting in a way Louis can't currently summon the words to explain.
nsfw cont. and they're awful also i'm sorry
"Fuck--" He exhales a heated breath with lopsided control through parted lips as he's pressed against the sturdy door. His hand at Lestat's neck traces the line of his shoulders before slipping into his hair. His other splays across the furrow of his lower back just discernible through his jacket and tugs him, as if the strong thigh between his legs wasn't enough for him to arch against. It's easier to let go when he's held; someone else holds him in his shape like a vase holds water. All this is at odds with the hesitant way he asked to stay over.
One night asleep and dead to the world would be a balm. For the troubled Louis, this is just as much of a temptation as the low heat in his belly winding him taut. What was it Lestat said humans could only think about? Hunger, sex, and going home? Food, companionship, and shelter aren't bad priorities to have, and vampires are kidding themselves if they think they are immune to these wants. The dilation in Louis's mirror-like eyes and the crimson thinly smeared on his chin and kiss-softened lips should be proof enough.
"Then grab your gun and let's get out of here."
Louis thinks the investigation would interrupt their dalliance whether they made noise or were silent as the corpses in the next room. Louis is not above breaking into a house and getting carnal in it, but there is a ridiculous poster in the office in this house of the Lord asking What Would Jesus Do?. The savior himself stares placidly at Louis in an almost bored way. It's off-putting in a way Louis can't currently summon the words to explain.