Are bites supposed to feel this way? he wonders. Louis can probably detect that curiosity, the very slight pain of it just giving depth to the pleasurable experience, as though sinking fangs into those same scars has ticked a dial over from scar tissue that is occasionally sensitive and/or tangibly emotionally significant to all that, but also now an erogenous zone.

It doesn't spark anything immediate, just adds to the dreamy, sparkly (and sweaty, and messy) soup of afterglow. Daniel continues to touch him just because he can, stroking feelings of affection and happiness into him. A little bit in awe, like he had been as a kid; like he had been as an old man, too, though he always brandished sarcasm or a biting comment instead of allowing it to be expressed. Safe to express it now.

He's just always thought Louis is so cool. Still does.

Hands slide up to cradle the back of Louis' head. (Is he allowed to touch his hair? The instinct to act permission is there, but his brain's a little fried from climax. Help.) An encouraging thing. Anything that Louis wants. Two weeks, sure, but it's not like somebody's falling off a ledge into non-existence after two weeks. There's life after two weeks. It's exciting. What else will there be?

"Maybe I didn't think I could anymore," he says softly. Feel good. For someone else. "I'm glad it's you."