( Louis lets out a sigh of ecstasy as Lestat's fangs slide out of his artery and he comes back to himself. There's the briefest sting, and then the warm tingle of the wound closing under Lestat's attentions, and the pleasant, weighty blankness of his mind in the aftermath. Louis shifts restlessly as Lestat's kisses leave his throat and move downward; he's caught between disappointment and anticipation, missing Lestat's fangs immediately and yet dying to see what he intends to do next.
Again, there's that rough spark when Lestat's lips brush the wound, neither pleasure nor pain, but simply feeling. Louis' fingers wind lazily in Lestat's hair, then tighten sharply as Lestat's tongue meets the wound. He's jolted by it, the nameless intensity crackling through his entire body like static; he arches up, holding Lestat's head in place, squirming up against his body in a writhe that matches the rhythm of his tongue. )
Lestat— Lestat— oh, please, yes...
( He's too far gone to care how desperate his begging sounds, or even to know exactly what he's begging for. But he trusts Lestat to know, and to give it to him, and to see him through it. )
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Again, there's that rough spark when Lestat's lips brush the wound, neither pleasure nor pain, but simply feeling. Louis' fingers wind lazily in Lestat's hair, then tighten sharply as Lestat's tongue meets the wound. He's jolted by it, the nameless intensity crackling through his entire body like static; he arches up, holding Lestat's head in place, squirming up against his body in a writhe that matches the rhythm of his tongue. )
Lestat— Lestat— oh, please, yes...
( He's too far gone to care how desperate his begging sounds, or even to know exactly what he's begging for. But he trusts Lestat to know, and to give it to him, and to see him through it. )