It is possible, Lestat thinks, to hold strong feelings, awe and admiration, paired alongside some of the deepest loathing he has ever had for another. What a myriad of emotions he experiences each time he has the ancient in his view. The desire to be close to Armand has never fully left him, and yet he recognizes the inherent dangers in doing so, in allowing himself to succumb.

Armand could easily throttle him, squeeze and twist until his head was at risk of being separated from his body — but instead, the kiss between them is deep, and pursuant, each of them seeming to savor it for reasons that are not wholly shared. For Lestat, he certainly experiences it as though he's getting away with something he shouldn't be, permitted this close to a being whose capabilities he's already well-versed in.

And you welcome it in, he responds, drinking in that hum as much as he would were it Armand's blow flowing over his tongue. Though only as a guest.

He's aware of the fact that there can never be anything truly lasting between them; they'd kill each other before enduring each other for any great duration. But that doesn't mean there can't be this, or something like it — the occasional diversion, the brief indulgence, and Lestat's hand smooths over Armand's chest as their kiss evolves, deepens further still. If he's the hurricane, he has no intention of leaving destruction in his wake — this time.