[ Lestat turns to watch Louis take his hand up in a kiss, his head tilted ever so slightly in an almost canine way as he admires the resistance of Louis' soft lips against his hand. Such a tender little moment, so simple a gesture… and yet Lestat feels so overwhelmingly protective of him that he struggles to even process his words properly at first. He could easily stay here for hours, watching Louis hold his hand like he's a treasure, and bestow kiss upon kiss to the marble-like surface over his veins. It's only the earnest look on Louis' face that snaps him out of it, and he wrenches his sight away. ]

You are determined to make it difficult for me to be gentle with you, aren't you?

[ It comes out a little lower than he'd intended — he'd only meant that Louis should be thinking of sleep, of rest, not of feeding Lestat who, despite having lost blood, still has plenty of vitality to him by comparison... but his voice is softened by affection and warmed by the need to protect, and then there's the undeniable prickling of thirst at the idea alone. ]

Wait for me a moment.

[ He rises to his feet quickly, leaving the door open for safety (and perhaps so that Louis can watch him) as he tosses the towel keeping him decent away somewhere and unhooks from a nearby peg the ridiculously extravagant silk housecoat he'd only picked up from the mall for the colour — deep, rich burgundy with sleeves of warm brown and gold piping — and slips it on.

He returns from the lower floor with a bottle in hand, robe tied so loosely about his hips that he might as well have not bothered clothing himself at all, and eases himself into an elegant lounge at Louis' side with a slight smirk on his face. ]

I feel like a young man bringing champagne to the honeymoon bed, though I thought you might be offended if I brought a glass.