LESTAT DE LIONCOURT: 29. A KISS OVER A WOUND.
never had parker experienced intimacy in the ( relatively ) short time he's lived on this earth. even with, what he likes to call, his ailment, parker's age only amounts to just over 60, and his body remains 35, stronger now than ever before. he was barely held as a child, less so as he grew into a man who was touch starved, but who's skin felt like it was burning every time someone attempted to embrace him. he wouldn't lie and say lestat's affection has been gentle ; nor parker's toward the other man - anything but, if the couple was being honest with themselves. but intimacy in this state, with someone you've bonded with through death and blood - it was unlike anything parker had ever felt, before.
both long - nailed hands clasp tightly around lestat's wrist. parker's mouth is open, his lips pressed against the sensitive skin there, his teeth red as they pull away from the slash that lestat has dug into his arm. to drink from a lover gave you strength, and a sense of euphoria that nothing else ever could. red eyes glanced up at lestat, stare dark, nearly lustful, as he licks blood from his lips. there is a moment of silence, the two staring at each other, daring the other to say something. when no words are uttered, parker bows his head once more, only to kiss away any remaining redness around the gash, pressing lips against the wound before he lets the arm go for good.
sitting back in his seat, parker gazes at his lover with satisfied eyes, tongue cleaning up the rest of the blood along his fangs, swallowing every last drop. 'you want a go, or was this somethin' special, just for me?' @lamourt.
