Daniel thinks about his blood and Louis cuts his tongue on a fang to let some trace droplets mingle into their kiss.

Moving again, straddling Daniel's hips. Touching him, hands cupping his face as their noses brush, nonsense murmurs between kisses.

"Daniel," then, a lower tease of, "Danny."

Needling as they kiss, heavy with the taste of blood between them. A little nudge to provoke, soothed almost immediately by another kiss.

Winds his way to, "My Daniel," with fingers cradling his face, hips slotted together. Chest to chest, Louis can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the slowing thud of his pulse. "Are you satisfied?"