oldheart
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“You’re gonna be good, and you’re gonna wear this for me. You know why?” Louis bent to meet Lestat’s gaze, hand cupping his cheek gently.
Well trained, Lestat’s eyes glazed over, voice soft when he spoke. “Tell me.”
Louis softly rubbed their noses together, leaning in for a sweet kiss. He pulls back, just enough to speak, words ghosting across Lestat’s lips, “‘Cause you made a promise to me, Les. That night in the church, on the altar. Under Jesus. Or did you forget?”
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Or: Louis does something rare, reaching past the shame that surrounds him, and asks for what he truly wants.