A crueller and pettier person than Armand -- Lestat, say -- might wonder why it's taken an interview with an old man for Louis to be reminded of what matters. Armand himself keeps his mouth and mind closed from that line of thinking, concentrating instead on the gentle slide of Louis' hand on his cock, the taste of his skin beneath his tongue.
You think I would remain asleep for that? He asks, his mouth otherwise occupied. With a low pleased noise, he lets slip his fangs and sinks them deep into Louis' neck, precisely over the point where his major artery lies closest to the surface. Blood flows; he begins to suck it down with practised swallows, tasting Louis, tasting the young man he fed from the day before, smoke and iron and the deep richness of the life that sustains their dark gift.
Louis gives an almost pained groan at the bite — almost, but not quite. Closes his eyes as Armand penetrates him, ice cold fangs amidst flesh gone hot. Taking a part of Louis into himself, through that sudden connection, and Louis' telepathy doesn't answer the question posed, his thoughts devolved into Yes, love.
Like this, they aren't human, but they aren't vampires either. Louis doesn't feel like anything except sensation, and he moans and clutches fingers through Armand's soft tousle of hair, the other hand leaving his dick to pull him closer, press their bodies together like he can feel that life pounding out of him and into Armand. The beauty of symbiosis, two bodies as one. The intimacy is almost better than the physical euphoria of the bite.
"Goddamn," he whispers roughly into the quiet air, eyes closed. He could die like this and it'd be a pretty good death.
It's one of the oldest rituals, the deepest mysteries, used to bond vampires together. The exchange of blood, life into death pumped by the vampire heart, sharing one's essence, the core of their being, a baring of throat to another's teeth the ultimate vulnerability and submission. Armand glories in it, grateful, letting himself go into the cycle of blood from throat to heart to throat to heart, stretching back beyond the mortal who died to give Louis this blood, beyond himself and Louis, to the throats and hearts of their makers, of their makers' makers, all the way back into the darkest ages.
He arcs up into Louis' arms, half undressed and hard against Louis' thigh, drinking deep. Then, before he can take too much, he pulls back with a physical wrench. Licks his teeth and his lips and gazes, full of adoration, at Louis. Without speaking, he lifts his hand, offering his wrist towards his companion. Eyes shining with the renewal of their connection.
"Take from me, my love. And then you can take me. Everything I have. Everything I am."
Louis got hard at some point getting sucked, and his fangs are already dropped: even in the throes of pleasure he's made his body ready to take more. He's smiling heady when Armand pulls back, kisses him deeply.
Gimme a sec. Because he's greedy, Louis, wants all his pleasures at once. He sheds his sleepwear, careful not to tear anything, and pulls Armand in by the hips.
"I love you," he says — it's still rare he says it first, always finds it contrived outside of these moments. Dips his head and kisses Armand's collarbone, the rise of his chest, licks a hot tongue there. Still lingering in foreplay even now - he really is in a mood. Though there's nothing sweet and slow in the way he takes Armand and flips him, ruts up on his ass. Smothers him with his body, kissing at his neck, behind his ear. Nothing else matters, no-one else matters except Armand, and the feeling of sinking into him.
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You think I would remain asleep for that? He asks, his mouth otherwise occupied. With a low pleased noise, he lets slip his fangs and sinks them deep into Louis' neck, precisely over the point where his major artery lies closest to the surface. Blood flows; he begins to suck it down with practised swallows, tasting Louis, tasting the young man he fed from the day before, smoke and iron and the deep richness of the life that sustains their dark gift.
no subject
Like this, they aren't human, but they aren't vampires either. Louis doesn't feel like anything except sensation, and he moans and clutches fingers through Armand's soft tousle of hair, the other hand leaving his dick to pull him closer, press their bodies together like he can feel that life pounding out of him and into Armand. The beauty of symbiosis, two bodies as one. The intimacy is almost better than the physical euphoria of the bite.
"Goddamn," he whispers roughly into the quiet air, eyes closed. He could die like this and it'd be a pretty good death.
no subject
He arcs up into Louis' arms, half undressed and hard against Louis' thigh, drinking deep. Then, before he can take too much, he pulls back with a physical wrench. Licks his teeth and his lips and gazes, full of adoration, at Louis. Without speaking, he lifts his hand, offering his wrist towards his companion. Eyes shining with the renewal of their connection.
"Take from me, my love. And then you can take me. Everything I have. Everything I am."
no subject
Gimme a sec. Because he's greedy, Louis, wants all his pleasures at once. He sheds his sleepwear, careful not to tear anything, and pulls Armand in by the hips.
"I love you," he says — it's still rare he says it first, always finds it contrived outside of these moments. Dips his head and kisses Armand's collarbone, the rise of his chest, licks a hot tongue there. Still lingering in foreplay even now - he really is in a mood. Though there's nothing sweet and slow in the way he takes Armand and flips him, ruts up on his ass. Smothers him with his body, kissing at his neck, behind his ear. Nothing else matters, no-one else matters except Armand, and the feeling of sinking into him.