( Louis lets out a pleased sigh at the drag of Lestat's nails against his scalp, and he finds his own hands moving up Lestat's chest almost of their own accord. He opens his eyes to gaze at him, making his way from Lestat's face and down his chest, and further... and back upward again with a soft exhale of a laugh.
He's so cool, even here, and his skin really is as smooth as marble — though Louis has never touched him like this before, he's spent decades gazing at him, looking at him beneath all different colors of light, and he's certain that this is a change from the way that it used to be. He wishes that he had more memories of Lestat to compare this to, because he's fascinated by every elegant curve of bone and shift of powerful lean muscle beneath flesh that looks carved out of stone.
Louis wonders with a pang whether Lestat is upset by the change in his appearance. He'd described such weeping in his book when he was turned, and he'd hidden himself away after Akasha's death, but Louis hadn't spent much time thinking about the emotional ripples that might come from Lestat looking different physically — he was the same Lestat he'd always been, wasn't he? )
Mm, I do feel it.
( He splays his hands against Lestat's chest, wishing that he could warm Lestat the way a mortal might. Something flutters in his stomach, and he says something that feels rather bold: )
We should do this more often. I don't know why I don't think of it.
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He's so cool, even here, and his skin really is as smooth as marble — though Louis has never touched him like this before, he's spent decades gazing at him, looking at him beneath all different colors of light, and he's certain that this is a change from the way that it used to be. He wishes that he had more memories of Lestat to compare this to, because he's fascinated by every elegant curve of bone and shift of powerful lean muscle beneath flesh that looks carved out of stone.
Louis wonders with a pang whether Lestat is upset by the change in his appearance. He'd described such weeping in his book when he was turned, and he'd hidden himself away after Akasha's death, but Louis hadn't spent much time thinking about the emotional ripples that might come from Lestat looking different physically — he was the same Lestat he'd always been, wasn't he? )
Mm, I do feel it.
( He splays his hands against Lestat's chest, wishing that he could warm Lestat the way a mortal might. Something flutters in his stomach, and he says something that feels rather bold: )
We should do this more often. I don't know why I don't think of it.