( Louis shudders at the slide of Lestat's tongue against his sensitive fangs, desire taking shape as thirst and whipping through his veins. Louis can actually taste the throb of Lestat's heartbeat inside of his mouth, filling him, and Louis wants him so badly that he's dizzy with it.

And oh, his heart soars to hear that Lestat wants to be known, to think that they might have that connection for always... it takes the reminder of his loss of self-control to restrain himself from having Lestat like that, tasting him, feeling their blood mingling and their heartbeats becoming one. He knows that the veil comes down between maker and fledgling when they drink from one another, and Louis lets out a soft sound of yearning at the thought of finally seeing into his soul, the one that Louis has always above all wanted to understand.

Louis leans his cheek toward Lestat's hand, back arching more subtly into his touch as well. He snakes an arm around Lestat's shoulders, steadying himself with a small smile. He's looking at Lestat with that awestruck fondness again, and he lifts his other hand to trace the places on Lestat's handsome face where the pale blush still lingers. His fingertips love with the delicacy of a paintbrush along the shell curve of Lestat's ear. Pink, he thinks, a bit delirious. )

Have we?

( There's a sweetness to his voice that's almost innocent, and the plaintive way his voice turns upward at the end makes it clear he doesn't want this to be over yet. But Lestat is supporting his weight, keeping him balanced; he would feel worse almost immediately if he were to let go, and yet he doesn't have the energy to do much more than hold him and respond to his touches. )

I thought this was about washing up and getting warm again. Aren't we accomplishing both? You've been quite thorough.