Drawn into Daniel's head, Louis winds so, so close into the river of Daniel's thoughts. Feels everything, all of it, an almost overwhelming flurry of activity that is so, so familiar. Lets Daniel feel all things in return. Withholds nothing. Slides in alongside the patter of Daniel's thoughts to soak up desire, affection, reflect it all back to Daniel.

Love, so hard for Louis to put to words. Love is here, intertwined among mirrored desire, affection, growing desperation as Daniel touches him. Louis lays himself bare, all impressions and thoughts rising from his own head blooming vivid among the order of Daniel's mind as his fingers drag slow through Daniel's hair. His thumb catches at Daniel's lower lip, intent on the reddened quality of it, of how kiss-bitten his mouth and how badly Louis wants to keep kissing him.

"No," Louis tells him, easy reassurance tempered only by, "Go slowly."

They heal quickly. Louis trusts Daniel to be careful, wants him enough to weather the passing flash of discomfort if he is not.

You feel so good murmurs, a thought telegraphed between them, a thought that has little and less to do with the way Daniel touches him and everything to do with how Louis fits into his head, the space Daniel makes for him here.