[ Lestat can’t repress the laugh he lets out against Louis skin, and rather than the peal of church bells it’s instead something smooth and satisfied; Louis has fallen into his trap and, satisfied, Lestat flicks his tongue out against his windpipe to taste the powerful scent of another man and the distinct taste of smoke from his skin.

He felt that quickening pulse, the thrill of excitement through Louis as Lestat’s wandering hands sought to make their quick tryst something that couldn’t be so easily explained away, and he wonders what is going through Louis’ mind as he fantasises about having to return in such a state – what people might think, what they might assume. Is it Lestat’s possessive passion, or the idea of getting caught, that’s more exciting to him? ]

I could send you back with more than that, if you’d like; enough that should anyone else come close enough to kiss you, they might think twice.

[ He doesn’t sound dangerous, nor particularly annoyed, and that’s because he isn’t. His tone is as playful as he feels, fingers kneading into Louis’ flesh like a pleased cat as his mouth scatters idle kisses across his throat, wondering if Louis will flush so dark Lestat will feel the burn of blood under the skin there. ]