[ He's panting when Lestat pulls away, muddled and attempting to draw him back in but Armand relents at the sound of his own name. He's staring up at Lestat with liquid eyes, dark brown turned amber from the wash of blood tears and Armand can't imagine what a state he must look... Still, Lestat hasn't pulled away, but that utterance had the sound of a question to it and there's still the heavy pressure of his large hands against Armand's skin, low on his belly, his side - what could be the matter? ]
What is it?
[ His voice sounds ragged, accent thick with the presence of tears, but he doesn't look upset, merely curious, wary - head tilted in question - trying to discern the reasoning and hitting just left of the mark. ]
no subject
Still, Lestat hasn't pulled away, but that utterance had the sound of a question to it and there's still the heavy pressure of his large hands against Armand's skin, low on his belly, his side - what could be the matter? ]
What is it?
[ His voice sounds ragged, accent thick with the presence of tears, but he doesn't look upset, merely curious, wary - head tilted in question - trying to discern the reasoning and hitting just left of the mark. ]
You don't have to stop..