[ Lestat keeps his eyes fixed on Louisā€™ face, trying to discern his thoughts through the flesh against his mouth like he would the blood. Louisā€™ body yields to his force as readily as heā€™s sure he would for the bite, almost dragging him deeper, or perhaps thatā€™s his own intention seeping through this intense moment of eye contact that has him pinned under Louisā€™ gaze.
He knows by now that he loves every emotion on Louis face, from joy and amusement to sadness and rage, but he doesnā€™t quite think heā€™ll ever be accustomed to or get sick of seeing Louis look so powerfully and overwhelmingly interested, especially when itā€™s directed at him; Louis has such a vivid and sprawling mind, capable of such thoughts and opinions that Lestat finds himself a little jealous sometimes, and to be the focus and the reason for them is more of an ego boost than he really needs, but is desperate to hold onto nonetheless. Louis looks like he can't imagine ever drawing his attention away from Lestat, that he's just as caught up in them becoming one in this way as Lestat is, and Lestat goes to the trouble of making it very clear how into that idea he is when his hand finds Louis' hips and encourages that twitching grind again against his silk-covered stomach.
Louis definitely had no intention of making his words an instruction, but Lestat is hopeless to deny him anything at the best of times, and there's no way he can change that now as such words fall from his demure lover, and as he jerks so sweetly beneath the intrusion of his tongue.
Lestat bats his eyelashes a little ā€” a promise to grant Louis' wish or simply a physical representation of the overwhelming desire pooling in him at Louis making such a request ā€” and slowly opens his mouth a little wider, fangs on show, glistening with saliva as he leans forward and pushes his tongue an experimental few centimetres deeper. ]
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He knows by now that he loves every emotion on Louis face, from joy and amusement to sadness and rage, but he doesnā€™t quite think heā€™ll ever be accustomed to or get sick of seeing Louis look so powerfully and overwhelmingly interested, especially when itā€™s directed at him; Louis has such a vivid and sprawling mind, capable of such thoughts and opinions that Lestat finds himself a little jealous sometimes, and to be the focus and the reason for them is more of an ego boost than he really needs, but is desperate to hold onto nonetheless. Louis looks like he can't imagine ever drawing his attention away from Lestat, that he's just as caught up in them becoming one in this way as Lestat is, and Lestat goes to the trouble of making it very clear how into that idea he is when his hand finds Louis' hips and encourages that twitching grind again against his silk-covered stomach.
Louis definitely had no intention of making his words an instruction, but Lestat is hopeless to deny him anything at the best of times, and there's no way he can change that now as such words fall from his demure lover, and as he jerks so sweetly beneath the intrusion of his tongue.
Lestat bats his eyelashes a little ā€” a promise to grant Louis' wish or simply a physical representation of the overwhelming desire pooling in him at Louis making such a request ā€” and slowly opens his mouth a little wider, fangs on show, glistening with saliva as he leans forward and pushes his tongue an experimental few centimetres deeper. ]