[ His heart thunders at the acquiescence - because he feels the fear, through all the haze of pain and hunger, Lestat is afraid - and the need to know why, to soothe, to feed. More, please more of the blood. Even frantic as he feels, Armand still carefully tucks the bear in his arms into the cross over of his robe - careful of the glasses - if something happens, if they need to flee, he refuses to be parted from it. Both arms now free, he slips them around Lestat's neck, drawing them together and all but falling into his lap as he leans in.
He kisses his cheek, his jaw - butterfly kisses, like thanks, like tribute - tenderness that, in his right mind, Armand would perhaps flinch from, but it does not make it any less wanted. He tucks his face against Lestat's throat, presses his lips there to feel the drum of his pulse, feels that uncertainty in him again and absently pets his lions main of hair, curling his fingers into it gently, before finally, he punctures Lestat's flesh.
The rush of blood is immediate and Armand feels his own veins pull tight, hungry to be fed, blood flooding his mouth almost faster than he can swallow. It's rapture, heady bliss, but it brings with it, finally, sweet clarity. His mouth is gentle on the wound as he drinks, heavy in Lestat's arms and sighs deeply as acuity returns to him.
He's still heart sore, still terrified that Daniel could be back in their world, alone, still misses him desperately, but he can feel Lestat's heart, he thoughts, feels cradled by it. Finally a reprieve from the loneliness of the past two months, the connection and intimacy that can only be known with another vampire, here once more. ]
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Even frantic as he feels, Armand still carefully tucks the bear in his arms into the cross over of his robe - careful of the glasses - if something happens, if they need to flee, he refuses to be parted from it. Both arms now free, he slips them around Lestat's neck, drawing them together and all but falling into his lap as he leans in.
He kisses his cheek, his jaw - butterfly kisses, like thanks, like tribute - tenderness that, in his right mind, Armand would perhaps flinch from, but it does not make it any less wanted. He tucks his face against Lestat's throat, presses his lips there to feel the drum of his pulse, feels that uncertainty in him again and absently pets his lions main of hair, curling his fingers into it gently, before finally, he punctures Lestat's flesh.
The rush of blood is immediate and Armand feels his own veins pull tight, hungry to be fed, blood flooding his mouth almost faster than he can swallow. It's rapture, heady bliss, but it brings with it, finally, sweet clarity. His mouth is gentle on the wound as he drinks, heavy in Lestat's arms and sighs deeply as acuity returns to him.
He's still heart sore, still terrified that Daniel could be back in their world, alone, still misses him desperately, but he can feel Lestat's heart, he thoughts, feels cradled by it. Finally a reprieve from the loneliness of the past two months, the connection and intimacy that can only be known with another vampire, here once more. ]