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Summary
He leans over Louis, nuzzling into the curve of his neck, dragging his lips along his jawline. “Do you know what happens to us when we overfeed?” He asks it gently, his voice a coaxing purr.
Louis shifts beneath him, uncomfortable. “We get sick.”
“No, mon couer. Mortals get sick, we simply reach capacity.” Lestat kisses his cheek, then lower, brushing lips over his throat. “The body must let go of what it cannot hold.”
Fledgling Louis still has a lot to learn from his maker Lestat.
