[ The brightness of that loving joy is like a flame that Armand longs to plunge his hand into just to feel the burn, as if the pain can replace the warmth that has deserted his own soul. Once again, he misses Daniel with a physical ache, misses what he had with Louis so long ago, the simple happiness of every mortal or immortal who has ever found someone to share their days and nights and hoped it would be forever.
Like an addict watching someone else get their fix, he can't look away from it. Has to singe himself a little more, a vague attempt at a smile on his face, remembering waterlogged tenderness and the feeling of Gale's mouth on his. ]
Yet he hasn't tasted you.
[ He can tell that much, the marks on Gale's throat the product of a far less deserving vampire, the placement over his carotid a dog's hurried bite rather than the refined evidence of loving teeth. ]
no subject
Like an addict watching someone else get their fix, he can't look away from it. Has to singe himself a little more, a vague attempt at a smile on his face, remembering waterlogged tenderness and the feeling of Gale's mouth on his. ]
Yet he hasn't tasted you.
[ He can tell that much, the marks on Gale's throat the product of a far less deserving vampire, the placement over his carotid a dog's hurried bite rather than the refined evidence of loving teeth. ]