He knows how badly Louis wants it, and he's told Louis to do it, yet Daniel is still surprised when the bite comes. It slips hot lightning through him, not a violent electric shock but something that sneaks in, an intimate knife. He's been waiting for this for fifty years, to feel it, really feel it, not just survive it.

Louis can see all of him through his blood. A flipbook of adoration, the struggle to adjust to this unlife always pinned by the stability of knowing Louis is out here. The way he missed him, the way he's always missed him even when he wasn't aware that's the thing he was feeling. And, maturely, how fucking hot he thinks he is.

Daniel pulls his arms around Louis, lifting him enough so that he's not jostling fangs from his throat as he fucks him, because it's out of his hands, now. Louis wanted to feel him unravel and now he is, everything is too much, shattering, barely aware of how desperately he chases after it over the edge. Tension snaps in a perfect way as he comes, his mind an explosion of stars.