His eyes hood as Daniel settles in closer, feeling that sense of his, his, his like his own pulse. He could ask, maybe, if this means Daniel trusts him—but what does that mean? Trusts him not to abuse the privilege? Perhaps. Does Armand trust himself? This, perhaps, the part that overwhelms him.
The concrete wall, cracking behind his back. Louis had never looked at him that way, not even in Paris. It was not the same way Lestat had looked at him, not the same way Marius had as well, but they all had some flicker, towards the end, that indicated to Armand that they found him lacking, or too much, or—
His nails, dimpling into Daniel's skin. Maybe this is why the past feels so close. Louis, a part of it, and it has barely been months.
Armand angles his head, kisses him. Sweet, brief. Back on task.
"I would like it," once he is sure his voice will come out level, "for you to take from me, sometimes. Perhaps if you ask for it. And don't mind if I tell you no."
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The concrete wall, cracking behind his back. Louis had never looked at him that way, not even in Paris. It was not the same way Lestat had looked at him, not the same way Marius had as well, but they all had some flicker, towards the end, that indicated to Armand that they found him lacking, or too much, or—
His nails, dimpling into Daniel's skin. Maybe this is why the past feels so close. Louis, a part of it, and it has barely been months.
Armand angles his head, kisses him. Sweet, brief. Back on task.
"I would like it," once he is sure his voice will come out level, "for you to take from me, sometimes. Perhaps if you ask for it. And don't mind if I tell you no."