And not without regrets, Armand points out telepathically, though it's getting a little difficult to keep track of his thoughts, wandering lost in the press of Lestat's mouth against his. It's been a long time; Armand feels every one of those years, and as if it was just yesterday.

His hand slips up into Lestat's hair, tangling into his curls as he leans back into the couch, his body accommodating Lestat as the younger vampire moves into him, allowing him whatever he wants. Helpless, as always, in the face of the storm, as much as he pretends otherwise. His lips part along with his thighs, welcoming Lestat between them, careless of whatever spectacle they're making to the crowd in the nightclub.