It doesn't disappoint, Daniel's little sideswipe. Amusement curls between them, coloring the tenor of Louis' mind even before he turns his smile in against Daniel's cheek, the corner of his mouth, presses it into a kiss. Can feel it, their shared affection. The familiarity of their shared levity.
It would have been like this, Louis knows. It would have been like this if they'd come together before. It's just easy, between them. It's easy now, drawing Daniel into him, fingers sunk into the curls at the nape of his neck. Feeling laughter in his body and finding himself so pleased with it, with Daniel's irreverence and good humor.
Pick something, prompts an inscrutable little flex of emotion across his face. Dampens some of the vibrant glow of his thoughts, some more serious timbre bleeding in. Weighing the question as he rocks a thigh up against Daniel's groin, nips at his lower lip.
Has anyone ever asked him this question? (No.)
Lets the little jar fall to the coverlet alongside them, freeing a hand to draw Daniel down with him against the pillows. Close, tangling together as Louis lets a hazy pulse of memory drift between their minds. What does he like? Piecemeal impressions, a mix of experience: hands on his body, weight heavy over him, a bowed spine beneath his fingers, the burn of overextended muscles, skin reddening under his palms, the sharp pain of fangs at his throat. Pain, pleasure, tenderness, all things mingling as Louis sorts through over a hundred years of entanglements (Lestat, Armand, distinct in his mind, maybe distinct in this accounting even as Louis pares these recollections down to overwhelming sensations.) as he winds his way to an answer.
"I want you to fuck me," can't be cheating, it's a choice, even if it's something he's already said yes to. "I want that, and not only because you asked."
A pause, a slow bite of a kiss. He can taste himself in Daniel's mouth, and lets Daniel feel how much he likes that too.
"I want to find out what we like," feels like a distinction to Louis, a difference clear in his thoughts as he says this against Daniel's mouth. "Together. We have time now."
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It would have been like this, Louis knows. It would have been like this if they'd come together before. It's just easy, between them. It's easy now, drawing Daniel into him, fingers sunk into the curls at the nape of his neck. Feeling laughter in his body and finding himself so pleased with it, with Daniel's irreverence and good humor.
Pick something, prompts an inscrutable little flex of emotion across his face. Dampens some of the vibrant glow of his thoughts, some more serious timbre bleeding in. Weighing the question as he rocks a thigh up against Daniel's groin, nips at his lower lip.
Has anyone ever asked him this question? (No.)
Lets the little jar fall to the coverlet alongside them, freeing a hand to draw Daniel down with him against the pillows. Close, tangling together as Louis lets a hazy pulse of memory drift between their minds. What does he like? Piecemeal impressions, a mix of experience: hands on his body, weight heavy over him, a bowed spine beneath his fingers, the burn of overextended muscles, skin reddening under his palms, the sharp pain of fangs at his throat. Pain, pleasure, tenderness, all things mingling as Louis sorts through over a hundred years of entanglements (Lestat, Armand, distinct in his mind, maybe distinct in this accounting even as Louis pares these recollections down to overwhelming sensations.) as he winds his way to an answer.
"I want you to fuck me," can't be cheating, it's a choice, even if it's something he's already said yes to. "I want that, and not only because you asked."
A pause, a slow bite of a kiss. He can taste himself in Daniel's mouth, and lets Daniel feel how much he likes that too.
"I want to find out what we like," feels like a distinction to Louis, a difference clear in his thoughts as he says this against Daniel's mouth. "Together. We have time now."