A relief, that the mark Louis left on him remains. Endured all these years, tangible reminder of what had passed between them in that apartment, what they survived together.
Not romantic, except in the ways these things can be, for vampires. Or for Louis, possessive even when he didn't have a right to be.
Louis does touch him, hips shifting just enough so he might take Daniel in hand again. Marvel at the slick slide of his palm over him, while Louis' head lights up wanting him all over again, as if they had done nothing at all together yet.
An innate sense of restraint running alongside this, wanting to put his teeth back into Daniel, knowing he is already flirting with how much he should drink. Louis opens his mouth over the punctures once more, over damp skin and the rapid thud of Daniel's pulse, lets his thoughts paint a picture of how Daniel should put hands into his hair, the way Louis likes to be touched, fingers at his nape, teasing the ends of soft twists, the rare sink of fingers in along his scalp at the back of his head—
A break in this thought as Louis drags his tongue along his own fangs, a shortcut to close up his own handiwork in slow, regretful strokes of his tongue.
Whenever I want picking up, as Louis noses along his jaw. Strokes him, slow, careless drags of his palm as the fingers of his opposite hand slid down Daniel's arm, following veins, the delicate bones of his wrist and hand.
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Not romantic, except in the ways these things can be, for vampires. Or for Louis, possessive even when he didn't have a right to be.
Louis does touch him, hips shifting just enough so he might take Daniel in hand again. Marvel at the slick slide of his palm over him, while Louis' head lights up wanting him all over again, as if they had done nothing at all together yet.
An innate sense of restraint running alongside this, wanting to put his teeth back into Daniel, knowing he is already flirting with how much he should drink. Louis opens his mouth over the punctures once more, over damp skin and the rapid thud of Daniel's pulse, lets his thoughts paint a picture of how Daniel should put hands into his hair, the way Louis likes to be touched, fingers at his nape, teasing the ends of soft twists, the rare sink of fingers in along his scalp at the back of his head—
A break in this thought as Louis drags his tongue along his own fangs, a shortcut to close up his own handiwork in slow, regretful strokes of his tongue.
Whenever I want picking up, as Louis noses along his jaw. Strokes him, slow, careless drags of his palm as the fingers of his opposite hand slid down Daniel's arm, following veins, the delicate bones of his wrist and hand.