( Louis flips through the pages as Lestat explains, his touch so delicate and loving that Lestat would be well in his rights to be jealous of a book. It's only when Lestat makes his request that Louis finally looks up at him, his eyes wide with wonder, his lips slightly parted in near-confusion, as if he can't quite believe he's heard that right.
It feels as if someone's reached into his chest to squeeze his heart, and it's somehow both painful and comforting at once. To anyone else, it might be such a small thing to ask, but Louis feels as if he's being given something precious, something that he's longed for all his immortal life. Lestat's smile is so brave and confident, but if anyone knows what this moment is costing him in pride, it's Louis.
Words, Louis thinks, would spoil the moment. Action for action, then. Lestat would appreciate that, and besides, Louis would like to pick up where they left off, more or less. And so, heart fluttering in his chest, Louis rests a hand on Lestat's knee as he leans in and kisses him on the lips. )
[ Such a perfect reaction, Lestat thinks, to see him so frozen by feeling and speechless. It would be all too easy to accuse Louis to be a man of few words, definitely not someone who enjoys the sound of his own voice in the same way Lestat himself does, but instead choosing each word with meaning and care. Lestat loves, more than anything else, to be the reason for Louis to search for what to say, and loves it even more when he fails to accurately describe the breadth of his feelings because they're so strong. Emotion in Louis is addictive, and Lestat drinks it up with the same fervour as the blood.
So when Louis kisses him, Lestat raises a hand to rest his fingers between his collar bones, palm strong against his chest. He smiles into the kiss, playfully pushing back with a little more intensity before he uses that hand to hold him away, just for a moment, like a dog away from its dinner. But there's no real power to it, no real intention, and he only holds him centimetres away; Lestat can't possibly resist giving Louis anything he wants for too long. ]
Ah, is that a yes?
[ He laughs, just a soft exhalation of breath against Louis' mouth. ]
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It feels as if someone's reached into his chest to squeeze his heart, and it's somehow both painful and comforting at once. To anyone else, it might be such a small thing to ask, but Louis feels as if he's being given something precious, something that he's longed for all his immortal life. Lestat's smile is so brave and confident, but if anyone knows what this moment is costing him in pride, it's Louis.
Words, Louis thinks, would spoil the moment. Action for action, then. Lestat would appreciate that, and besides, Louis would like to pick up where they left off, more or less. And so, heart fluttering in his chest, Louis rests a hand on Lestat's knee as he leans in and kisses him on the lips. )
no subject
So when Louis kisses him, Lestat raises a hand to rest his fingers between his collar bones, palm strong against his chest. He smiles into the kiss, playfully pushing back with a little more intensity before he uses that hand to hold him away, just for a moment, like a dog away from its dinner. But there's no real power to it, no real intention, and he only holds him centimetres away; Lestat can't possibly resist giving Louis anything he wants for too long. ]
Ah, is that a yes?
[ He laughs, just a soft exhalation of breath against Louis' mouth. ]