Hands smoothing downwards, until his fingertips find the circling, overlapped scars at Daniel's throat. Louis' tearing teeth, and his own daintier contribution somewhere in the knot of coarse tissue. Strokes along it, around it, as they kiss.

And it does all feel good and easy, settling with his thighs on either side of Daniel's, a pleasant alignment of their hips, letting a more human sense of gravity pull them together. His body feels extra alive and receptive, as if all these little grasping hallucinated fronds and leaves and petals are reaching out, tangling, rooting together in the barely-any-space between them.

A fair chance he could be content with just this, where sex is barely the transaction interlocking of parts but some extra-planar sharing, strange and romantic. But he can feel all the mechanical things beginning to shift, blood flow and flesh, and he indulges in a shifting movement, hips pressing, rubbing just a little as they kiss.

Or make out.

Perhaps there is nothing wrong with both.