Daniel wouldn't call himself touch-starved. Old people don't feel that sort of thing. You get old and you give up physical intimacy, a normal part of the life cycle; even if he had gone over the hill with a committed partner, they'd be past the point of fooling around and sleeping curled up together, bodies too prone to aches and pains and discomfort. And that's without Parkinson's.
And yet he finds himself sliding his arms around Louis' middle, when he's drawn in for a kiss. Like he still can't get enough of touching him, like he can drink him in through skin to skin contact alone. Under the warm water, against each other. It chases some of the chill of psychic separation away, which is interesting in itself— now that it's been a few minutes, the contrast of being apart, that coldness, feels almost like psychic sensory play, instead of something negatively disorienting.
"I'm glad you let me find you."
Even if Louis didn't do it consciously, he wasn't closed off. Not hiding. Daniel was able to track him down, see him like a candle in the dark.
Louis had tried. He had meant to hide from him, obscure things, hold back, and Daniel had cut through it all anyway. He'd done it easy, and done it mortal. Imagine what he can do now, a vampire.
"I always want you to find me."
Soft words as Louis's hands slide across Daniel's shoulders, down his back and up again.
"Wherever I am, I want you there."
No words for it, only a foregone conclusion. If Louis is anywhere, Daniel is welcome. In his head, in his homes, in his bed. Anywhere. Everywhere. Echoes of anything in the assurance.
A flutter of emotion. There have been a whole lot, tonight. Louis will no doubt be able to feel the tender pulse in Daniel's heart, feeling the continued weight of this, how much it touches him. He's always felt safe, in a way, with Louis. Even when it wasn't. Even when he was being harmed. Safe enough to talk to him still after a reveal of fangs, to curl into him and listen when he was burned up, to stay with him in Dubai even after their sparring, and the muddied memory of his near-murder.
Not a boy anymore, but a part of him will always still be Louis'. Scars, and fingerprints on his heart.
He splays one hand over the other vampire's, to that end. His chest, his heart.
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And yet he finds himself sliding his arms around Louis' middle, when he's drawn in for a kiss. Like he still can't get enough of touching him, like he can drink him in through skin to skin contact alone. Under the warm water, against each other. It chases some of the chill of psychic separation away, which is interesting in itself— now that it's been a few minutes, the contrast of being apart, that coldness, feels almost like psychic sensory play, instead of something negatively disorienting.
"I'm glad you let me find you."
Even if Louis didn't do it consciously, he wasn't closed off. Not hiding. Daniel was able to track him down, see him like a candle in the dark.
no subject
Louis had tried. He had meant to hide from him, obscure things, hold back, and Daniel had cut through it all anyway. He'd done it easy, and done it mortal. Imagine what he can do now, a vampire.
"I always want you to find me."
Soft words as Louis's hands slide across Daniel's shoulders, down his back and up again.
"Wherever I am, I want you there."
No words for it, only a foregone conclusion. If Louis is anywhere, Daniel is welcome. In his head, in his homes, in his bed. Anywhere. Everywhere. Echoes of anything in the assurance.
no subject
Not a boy anymore, but a part of him will always still be Louis'. Scars, and fingerprints on his heart.
He splays one hand over the other vampire's, to that end. His chest, his heart.
Anything, agreed.