[ Lestat feels Louis body reverberate beneath him, quivering like the hum of a struck tuning fork, a veritable slave to Lestat's succour in this moment. Louis' wound seems to fizz as blood pours from the deep gash in his tongue - so deep, in fact, that Lestat feels the muscle struggle as though in his haste and desperation he severed something integral to its movement - and Lestat groans at the pull to his hair, pressing his head down as instructed, meeting the elegant curving of Louis' spine up towards him.
He uses his blunt teeth to squeeze his tongue as he draws it back into his mouth, feels the flesh tear as the tear is forced open even further, fills his mouth half full with blood and then parts his lips over Louis' injury again. He can see that it looks much less angry than it did back in that dorm room, that it looks less deep and less wet before the blood pours inside, but still not healed. Unable to resist, he follows the dribbling of blood from his lips with another kiss to the very maw of the wound itself. He goes as far as slipping his tongue inside, as if he's pushing himself - his blood - further in, when really he just wants to taste Louis like this. Not the pull of his fangs filling his mouth with the flavour of him, but tasting him from the very source, the meat of him.
The smell of metallic blood in the air is enough to make him dizzy with hunger and desire, and he moans into Louis' body, hands gripping his waist hard enough to bruise. ]
cw: gore? kinda?
He uses his blunt teeth to squeeze his tongue as he draws it back into his mouth, feels the flesh tear as the tear is forced open even further, fills his mouth half full with blood and then parts his lips over Louis' injury again. He can see that it looks much less angry than it did back in that dorm room, that it looks less deep and less wet before the blood pours inside, but still not healed. Unable to resist, he follows the dribbling of blood from his lips with another kiss to the very maw of the wound itself. He goes as far as slipping his tongue inside, as if he's pushing himself - his blood - further in, when really he just wants to taste Louis like this. Not the pull of his fangs filling his mouth with the flavour of him, but tasting him from the very source, the meat of him.
The smell of metallic blood in the air is enough to make him dizzy with hunger and desire, and he moans into Louis' body, hands gripping his waist hard enough to bruise. ]