A small sound in the moment Louis' lips meet his, immediately muffled, extinguish. Shock, momentary, hands flying to rest on Louis' arms—

And then the inevitable falling in, Lestat kissing him back, a hand gripping at his collar, a hand curling around the back of his neck. Reeling him in tighter, clinging onto him desperately. Some guarded thing in him breaks, and regret and shame and fear all release themselves into his blood like a poison.

He wants to say sorry, over and over. Promise to never do it again. Promise to never hurt him. Hard words, difficult words, as difficult as the word love leaving Louis' mouth, both easier expressed into a kiss.