Dizzying, thinking of Daniel's lifespan. Louis met him at twenty. Louis bit his desire into Daniel's throat, spent almost a week locked in small rooms beside him, and now —
A little miraculous, all that had to happen to bring them here. A miracle Daniel made happen, whether he admits it or not.
Louis' body jolts, an all-consuming spark of movement as Daniel touches him lower, with something like intent. A technicolor flare of emotion in his mind as Daniel tells him these things, says I just want you. Says, we can do that, if you want. Overwhelming, what Louis wants. Fifty years of longing all the more potent for being contained and suppressed and obscured, thinking of how he would have put himself into Daniel's bed, how they'd have touched then. Different from how they touch now.
His heel hooks higher, better leverage, permissive, encouraging. Coaxes the slow slide of their fingers, tremors working through his thighs at the slickness of them, how easy it makes the stroke of their palms.
Says, "Don't stop touching me," while his thoughts circle through every single touch Daniel has laid on him from the moment he broke into this house and the way Daniel is touching him in this specific moment. Wanting all of it at once, even the innocuous, polite way they'd touched each other before.
A break in his voice, hitching over, "I just need to see you. I don't care about the rest."
Years and years to explore every possible entanglement, isn't that one of the benefits of eternity? They could joke about it. Maybe later, after. Right now, Louis is hard pressed to be particular. Even to try and pick some specific preference out of Daniel's head. Unlikely to be successful anyway. Louis can feel him, is slid so far into Daniel's mind that he is very aware of how true Daniel was when he said he wasn't picky. They just want each other. Louis feels that truth like a hook caught behind his ribs, helpless with the meaning of it.
no subject
—
A little miraculous, all that had to happen to bring them here. A miracle Daniel made happen, whether he admits it or not.
Louis' body jolts, an all-consuming spark of movement as Daniel touches him lower, with something like intent. A technicolor flare of emotion in his mind as Daniel tells him these things, says I just want you. Says, we can do that, if you want. Overwhelming, what Louis wants. Fifty years of longing all the more potent for being contained and suppressed and obscured, thinking of how he would have put himself into Daniel's bed, how they'd have touched then. Different from how they touch now.
His heel hooks higher, better leverage, permissive, encouraging. Coaxes the slow slide of their fingers, tremors working through his thighs at the slickness of them, how easy it makes the stroke of their palms.
Says, "Don't stop touching me," while his thoughts circle through every single touch Daniel has laid on him from the moment he broke into this house and the way Daniel is touching him in this specific moment. Wanting all of it at once, even the innocuous, polite way they'd touched each other before.
A break in his voice, hitching over, "I just need to see you. I don't care about the rest."
Years and years to explore every possible entanglement, isn't that one of the benefits of eternity? They could joke about it. Maybe later, after. Right now, Louis is hard pressed to be particular. Even to try and pick some specific preference out of Daniel's head. Unlikely to be successful anyway. Louis can feel him, is slid so far into Daniel's mind that he is very aware of how true Daniel was when he said he wasn't picky. They just want each other. Louis feels that truth like a hook caught behind his ribs, helpless with the meaning of it.