It blooms in Louis' head, just how much he likes that too. The way arousal flares up in his chest as Daniel does this thing, as Louis feels how badly Daniel wants to taste him.

Louis leans in to kiss him. Licks into his mouth, aware of the open punctures at Daniel's throat.

Heady, to be wanted this way. (Louis is still, always, in some ways the man standing in a courtyard, asking if he is enough.) Heady to know that Daniel wants him this way. To feel it so clearly. They are a mess and exhausted and Louis wants him again. Louis can taste himself in Daniel's mouth. Has Daniel's blood on his own tongue. He is still catching his breath, and yet—

But he's older now. Has learned something like patience in all his long years on this planet. He can hold one desire in check, focus on where they are now. Daniel under him, the rhythm of their hearts, the warmth of his skin. Daniel tastes him, and Louis kisses him again, deep and slow, before he lowers his head down to the bite he'd left, the slow drips of blood at Daniel's throat.

Louis catches them, arms around Daniel as he applies lips and tongue to the trailing droplets. Kisses over the wounds slowly, no urgency.

Better than I remembered, is true, but also a kind of joke. How much does Louis truly remember? Enough, enough to know, but there are blurred aspects, things damaged by Armand, by the injuries Louis survived.

"How do you feel?"