A nudge, close and almost protective, when he feels that brief dimming, even as he pushes down against the way Louis flexes up against him. A notion in their heads. That Louis should always have whatever choices he wants. Sex is just sex. It's what they make of it, whether it's just a transaction or a laugh or something miserable or something that rewires a person's entire inner intimate world as profound. Something even a heterosexual boomer knows. (Or maybe it's because he got old he can have this perspective.)

Daniel's turn to say Anything.

Feels all these things, sees all these things, kisses Louis deeper all the while. Only a brief flinch back, followed by a warning nuzzle, because, fuck, if he thinks too hard about biting then Daniel's not going to be able to keep his fangs from stretching out, aching and desperate.

"Okay." A fond concession. Louis is just not a simple answer guy, Daniel should know that. Let the tale seduce you. Let the fumble in bed after memory trauma seduce you. Well. Daniel is not that seductive, but he'll give it a go.

Another kiss. More clutching at him. Time. They do have time. Finally.

"You can turn around if you want, I'm not gonna..."

Be bothered if Louis decides he does not want to stare at wrinkly old man skin. His dick is still in perfect working order, he's always been lean so the whole affair isn't that bad, but compared to Armand, Lestat, Louis himself, it's pretty tragic.