There's a future where Lestat will be forced to consider why he does the things he does.
And he will wonder, too, why he wasn't capable of doing so before. Why it could only happen while the taste of ash still lingered at the back of his throat, and all had been taken from him, and a streak of petty stubbornness, momentary, had been the only thing to save him from a properly cleansing fire.
Here, Louis relaxes beneath him, and the rich warmth of his voice goes down as smooth as— well, blood, of course, and Lestat can believe that he doesn't need variety, or a place to go for easy affection, or anything at all but Louis.
He smiles, shifting to accommodate that bid to come closer, as if he can be any closer than he already is. He will certainly try.
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And he will wonder, too, why he wasn't capable of doing so before. Why it could only happen while the taste of ash still lingered at the back of his throat, and all had been taken from him, and a streak of petty stubbornness, momentary, had been the only thing to save him from a properly cleansing fire.
Here, Louis relaxes beneath him, and the rich warmth of his voice goes down as smooth as— well, blood, of course, and Lestat can believe that he doesn't need variety, or a place to go for easy affection, or anything at all but Louis.
He smiles, shifting to accommodate that bid to come closer, as if he can be any closer than he already is. He will certainly try.