A rush of exhale, a shiver— he's sensitive, yes, but it's not like being mortal, his body does whatever he wants it to, now, will rebound happily if desire is there. And it's there. Here. In truth, sex as a mortal is a little fuzzy in his sensory recollection, not because of the long, sad, cold existence of a vampire, but because of his slide into age and disease.

A new life, in so many ways.

He touches Louis how he's shown, taking his time and indulging at once, wanting to make sure everything feels this good for the both of them. No fumbling discomfort, if they can avoid it. He lets Louis feel wherever he's curious about, his cock, his wrist. Rough hands, inelegant, always a little too big and square for his wry frame. He would just make shoe size jokes. (Hey, who's joking?)

That taste of him was not enough. Not by a long shot. But Daniel tucks the desire away on a shelf; they have time. They have an eternity. They don't gave to go on every ride at the theme park in one go.

'I've never known anyone as long as you, did you know that?'

Discounting the gaps. Louis missed him. Daniel missed Louis. Core parts of each other, now; fifty years. Daniel's parents died before he hit fifty. He didn't meet his first wife until after that week in San Fransisco. Friends from college, high school, scattered, forgotten through mundane means. But Louis has been with him all along.