( He's overcome as always, amazed as always, all his fears and worries smoothed away by Lestat's sweet words. Louis knows from long experience what Lestat sounds like when he's being insincere or toying with someone or simply playing the suave romantic, and it's all the more precious that Louis can tell that he means it. But Lestat has always been more honest than Louis gave him credit for during their long years together — it was only that Louis grew so used to examining every statement for hidden meanings, and invented them where there were none to be found. It's been months now, the better part of a year since they found each other again; Louis has lost his instinct to sift through every sentence for the insults that he believes he deserves, but the sweetness, the tenderness, that hasn't lost its novelty yet.
A dreamy smile plays at the corner of Louis' lips as Lestat presses back into his hands, and he jostles the bow in his hair; he attempts to right it, but gives up and takes the ribbon out, threading it between his fingers and petting Lestat's hair as it falls free. He'll fix it later. He pulls him close for another long and lingering kiss, and only parts enough to speak, their lips still brushing as he does. )
I know that. I don't understand it, but I know it. You've more than proven your devotion; I have no reason to doubt that your heart truly belongs to me.
( He lets out a soft breath, almost as if he's laughing at himself a little. )
You do so much for me, Lestat. More than I could ever ask for... more than I even want, sometimes, though I wouldn't change that part of your nature or any other. It's only that I want to give you that same happiness in return. My company doesn't feel like enough.
( Though, he believes he could be content with nothing but Lestat's companionship, and not a single other frivolous luxury. )
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Oh, Lestat...
( He's overcome as always, amazed as always, all his fears and worries smoothed away by Lestat's sweet words. Louis knows from long experience what Lestat sounds like when he's being insincere or toying with someone or simply playing the suave romantic, and it's all the more precious that Louis can tell that he means it. But Lestat has always been more honest than Louis gave him credit for during their long years together — it was only that Louis grew so used to examining every statement for hidden meanings, and invented them where there were none to be found. It's been months now, the better part of a year since they found each other again; Louis has lost his instinct to sift through every sentence for the insults that he believes he deserves, but the sweetness, the tenderness, that hasn't lost its novelty yet.
A dreamy smile plays at the corner of Louis' lips as Lestat presses back into his hands, and he jostles the bow in his hair; he attempts to right it, but gives up and takes the ribbon out, threading it between his fingers and petting Lestat's hair as it falls free. He'll fix it later. He pulls him close for another long and lingering kiss, and only parts enough to speak, their lips still brushing as he does. )
I know that. I don't understand it, but I know it. You've more than proven your devotion; I have no reason to doubt that your heart truly belongs to me.
( He lets out a soft breath, almost as if he's laughing at himself a little. )
You do so much for me, Lestat. More than I could ever ask for... more than I even want, sometimes, though I wouldn't change that part of your nature or any other. It's only that I want to give you that same happiness in return. My company doesn't feel like enough.
( Though, he believes he could be content with nothing but Lestat's companionship, and not a single other frivolous luxury. )