This time, Mitchell knew that Samandriel wasn't kissing him out of duty, but out of want. If not desire, or lust, then the want of a gentle touch, of being cared for. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to go from being an angel to being so much less than before--but Sam wasn't really less. Not if he remembered who he was. And Mitchell would do his best to make the former--fallen?--angel see that.
"Oh Sam," he breathed again, soft and so tender as he cupped the boy's face, kissed him gently, with as much care and love as he could communicate using only touch. He wanted the boy to feel cherished, to know that the vampire would protect him, would avenge him, if he couldn't protect him, and above all that he cared for him, that he wasn't any less worthwhile for having been so much more before.