Different, because he doesn't feel like he's going to pass right out (even though they're well into the day by now), because he doesn't need to extricate himself before things get too weird. Sated and content and still elated, a new kind of experience, brought on by something as simple as scrambling at each other to rut and pet. Inelegant, but it feels so profound.

More, somehow, when Armand licks his hand too. Daniel lets him have it, splaying fingers for him, once more captured, everything laid out and permissive. Diamond nails, exposed wrist. He still feels shivery from climax and from the blood drained from him. He wonders if Armand likes the way he tastes, or if it was just an instinct at the height of sensation.

He tucks his other arm around him, encouraging him to settle like he so often does. No pajamas or blankets between them this time, and staying still will be disgusting when it all cools down, but Daniel's never been particularly put off by that sort of thing. Bodies and their mechanics are an interesting part of existence, living and undead. He pets over Armand's hair, his shoulder, down his spine. Covetous, a little greedy still. Who knows. His maker might decide this was a bad idea and bolt, abandon Daniel to a dark chamber he can't leave for fear of being immolated if he ran after. He'll enjoy what he can.