( Louis makes a soft noise, first acknowledgement and then warm appreciation, sighing at Lestat's thumb working at the sensitive skin of the wound. It stings, and beneath that it aches, but the tenderness of it is so sweet that he doesn't want Lestat to stop. He looks to Lestat's face, at the soft and thoughtful expression there, the bittersweet cast to his smile, and Louis feels a swell of protectiveness toward him that is completely at odds with his wounded and delicate physical state. Louis would gladly give his immortal life to keep Lestat safe, for whatever that life may be worth. )
It's all right if you aren't sure. Even if you aren't ever sure.
( His hands skim lower, tracing the shapes of Lestat's ribs, down to the sharp curves that mark his hipbones; he feels his cheeks humming with the effort to blush, finally, as if he's only now becoming aware of their state. With a little start, he realizes he's staring almost absently downward — getting an eyeful, as they say — and as he wrenches his eyes back up to Lestat's face with a sheepish expression, he vaguely resents that he isn't in the right mind to appreciate it.
A little self-conscious, but entirely sincere: )
No matter how time changes us, you'll always be my Lestat.
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It's all right if you aren't sure. Even if you aren't ever sure.
( His hands skim lower, tracing the shapes of Lestat's ribs, down to the sharp curves that mark his hipbones; he feels his cheeks humming with the effort to blush, finally, as if he's only now becoming aware of their state. With a little start, he realizes he's staring almost absently downward — getting an eyeful, as they say — and as he wrenches his eyes back up to Lestat's face with a sheepish expression, he vaguely resents that he isn't in the right mind to appreciate it.
A little self-conscious, but entirely sincere: )
No matter how time changes us, you'll always be my Lestat.