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The brass key was cold in Armand’s hands as he placed it into the lock and turned. As the door opened, old hinges creaking back to life, he handed the key to Daniel. He would require the key should he wish to come and go. Armand himself would not.
He had chosen the flat overlooking Battersea Park weeks ago, before meeting Daniel in Pompeii. Upon viewing it Armand had been charmed by its large bay windows overlooking the park and the antique wood paneling that decorated the walls within it. He’d signed for it almost immediately and hired a team of decorators without ever telling Daniel of his plan. As Armand picked up Daniel’s suitcase for him and led the way inside he wondered if perhaps that had been a mistake.
It was their first home together. The first home Armand had truly shared with any lover since his youth, since he could hardly call the brief and elusive presence that had been Louis a housemate. No, Louis had been more ghost than anything, haunting whatever home Armand had selected for them. But Daniel was young, alive. Not liable to be kept like a bird in a gilded cage; a fact about him which Armand both appreciated and worried over, for Armand could not be in the flat during the day.
Daniel would spend most of his time here alone, a fact that Armand had not realized would ache down to his core. He hadn’t even thought about it until they were in the flat together and he was forced to picture Daniel wandering its halls without him.
He wondered if Daniel would be bored or lonely. As a youth he’d had the other boys to occupy him. Daniel had only himself.
As they walked into the sitting room he watched Daniel’s expression. The way he dragged his fingers through his hair and looked around the room. He was always doing that, fussing with his hair. It was something of a nervous tick, Armand had noticed. It set Armand on edge by proxy.
Armand stood behind a carved antique chair, hands resting lightly on the back of it. “Well? Is it to your liking?”
Daniel nodded. “Reminds me of home,” he said, and for a moment Armand thought perhaps he could relax. But then he continued. “We had two living rooms, one we actually hung out in and the other one, that one we called Mom’s Museum. You weren’t allowed to touch anything, it was all too precious to handle. Kinda reminds me of her museum room in here.”
Armand frowned. “You are uncomfortable here then.”
“No, it’s fine,” Daniel said. “I like it. It’ll just take some getting used to, that’s all. It’s very…you. Fancy.”
“Yes. I had a specialist design the interior, she was able to locate a number of fine pieces to fill the place with. The sofa there was once owned by Napoleon,” Armand said, nodding at it.
An elegant thing, all gilded wood and glossy blue silk upholstery. Daniel had been about to sit down on it but upon hearing Armand’s words jumped back up.
So now I live in an apartment with an actual dead guy plus a famous dead guy’s furniture. This is fine. This is totally normal.
Armand’s expression did not change but inside he flinched at the thought.
So Daniel did not like it, but would not say. In an all too mortal gesture Armand pinched the bridge of his nose, as though he were capable of getting a headache. Picked through Daniel’s mind. There was no coherent reason for his discomfort that he could find. Just a vague sense of unease, the feeling of not quite fitting in with the things around him.
Perhaps this was all a great mistake. Perhaps he should have left Daniel to go on his way and re-assimilate to mortal life. Perhaps Armand should never have given him the blood at all.
He laid the suitcase on the foot of the bed, a four poster with heavy velvet curtains in midnight blue. 16th century, though he did not mention that fact to Daniel, who seemed liable to say he loved it and then sleep on the floor instead. Armand opened the suitcase and took Daniel’s clothing out, piece by piece, and placed it within the drawers of the dresser by the window. Partly to take care of Daniel, something he had promised himself he would try to do, and partly to keep himself from dwelling upon the fact that he would have to tuck Daniel into that bed and then leave him with all of his apprehensive feelings to sleep out the day alone.
How foolish he had been to let this boy make him feel mortal again, and forget the impossible ocean of differences between them.
“So did you have plans for tonight?” Daniel asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed.
Armand paused, back turned to Daniel as he stood at the dresser.
Plans. In his haste to retrieve Daniel from Pompeii he had failed to see what activities would be available upon their arrival. Armand had been in London so little. He truly had no idea what the city had to offer now.
Well, there was nothing he could do about it now.
“I was uncertain as to whether you might be tired upon arrival and wish to remain here, so I did not plan anything,” Armand lied as he put Daniel’s socks in the drawer one by one.
“That’s considerate,” Daniel murmured.
Armand turned to look at him. “Am I not considerate?”
“What? Yeah? I didn’t mean anything by it. Hey-” Daniel reached out as he walked past, just missing grabbing Armand by the belt loop. “Would you stop being weird and come here for a minute?”
“In what way am I being ‘weird’, Daniel?”
“In what way aren’t you being weird? You’re walking around like you’ve got a stick up your ass.”
Armand folded his arms over his chest. “Well you are the one who dislikes this home and won’t tell me why. So I suppose when it comes to strange behavior we are even.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I said it would take some getting used to.”
“Which is tantamount to dislike,” Armand said as he picked up a shirt and opened a drawer.
Behind him Daniel heaved out a sigh.
“You know, I thought for once we might just hang out and get in bed together like normal people. Not have some silly fucking fight while you play merry maid and put away my clothes.”
“Yes, because living with- as you put it- a ‘dead guy’ is so terribly normal.”
Daniel scrubbed his hands over his face. He fell back onto the bed as he groaned. “Jesus, how do you always miss the goddamned point?”
Armand shut the drawer and went over to stand by the bed. Daniel looked so pretty on the dark blue covers. If only they hadn’t botched this. Perhaps then he would have been lying on the covers with him, hands in his hair.
Well, there was still time to mend the situation. Armand knew of one infallible method for ending a fight.
Armand held out his hand in a peace offering. “Come, beloved. You must let me show you the bathroom.”
Daniel hesitated. “Why? So you can tell me all about how Cleopatra used to own our tub and then we can argue in there too?”
“No. Our bath tub is entirely new,” Armand said. “And if you join me perhaps we can both get in it together.”
The spark of lust that elicited in Daniel was instant. Armand could see it in his eyes. Good. He could get his hands on Daniel’s skin, get into his head and wipe the angry and uncomfortable thoughts from his mind. Daniel took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up and off the bed, led through the door in the corner of the bedroom.
For an historic home the bathroom was delightfully modern in its size, with a large round tub more than capable of holding them two. He turned the golden knobs and let the water run as he checked inside the cabinets to see what bath supplies the staff he’d hired had left. Shampoos, soaps, oils. Armand poured something that smelled vaguely of lavender into the water and stripped off his clothes.
Shit. How is this the first time I’ve seen him with his clothes off?
He turned to Daniel, who was staring openly; hands frozen on the buttons of his own shirt as he took in the sight of so much unnatural alabaster skin. Armand searched his mind for some hint of revulsion. The unnerving awareness that he was in the room with something that didn’t belong on this earth. After all, Daniel kept thinking of him as something dead. Something other.
He found nothing. Only jumbled and aroused thoughts about how soft his thighs looked, how human and rosy his nipples were. Daniel had the urge to get his hands on him but was too distracted by the shadows of dimples in Armand’s lower back to remember how a zipper worked.
Had Armand had a hint of shame he might have blushed. As it was he only met Daniel’s eyes as he turned toward him and took a wide step into the tub. All of the unpleasant thoughts were gone from his mind, wiped away by the sight of Armand before him.
“Is something the matter, Daniel?” Armand asked as he settled into the bath.
The water was so deliciously hot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat in a bath just for the sake of it, for the hedonistic pleasure of hot water on his immortal skin. He tipped his head back against the edge of the tub and watched Daniel kick off his jeans.
“No. I was just wondering why I’d never asked you to get your clothes off before,” Daniel said as he climbed in with him. Armand had run the water too long. Some sloshed over the edge and onto the marble floor. “I mean, I know why. You always get me too out of my mind to even think about asking for anything. But just in general.”
Daniel was rambling. An endearing behavior, something he always did when he became shy. Much more enjoyable than his tight jawed anger of moments ago.
Armand crossed the great bath tub and straddled his thighs. Laced his fingers loosely at the nape of Daniel’s neck. The water was hot but Daniel’s skin felt hotter. Already the great vein that traveled the length of his neck had begun to stand out in the heat of the room, tempting Armand’s eternal thirst. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on Daniel’s flushed cheeks. Played with his hair and let the hunger build.
“I hadn’t thought about it myself,” Armand said. “Most immortal beings have little need to ever spend time undressed. They take their pleasure only in the kill.”
He kissed over Daniel’s cheek, barely there brushes of his mouth that made Daniel’s eyes flutter closed. He had such lovely lashes, pretty as a girl’s. Would that Armand still painted, he would have committed them to a tiny canvas and carried around his lover’s eye wherever he went. He nuzzled at the sharp angle of Daniel’s jaw and felt his hands finally come to rest on his hips.
Daniel looked down between them, at the distorted image of Armand’s waist beneath the water. He had his hands on it as if he were taking his measure of him, seeing if his fingertips would touch at the small of his back. Something about that thrilled Armand. That Daniel was so much larger than him and yet so utterly under his control.
“Most immortals? What about you?” Daniel murmured, distracted by feeling over the vertebrae at the base of his spine.
Armand had no real answer for that. He hadn’t truly taken anyone to bed in ages. He had so little idea of what this immortal body still felt.
He leaned in. Trailed kisses over the pink shell of Daniel’s ear. Caught his earlobe in his mouth and delighted in the way he shivered at his teeth on his skin. Daniel was thinking back to the night before, to Armand drinking from him in Pompeii. The pleasure he had found in the pain in his throat.
“I think you know the answer to that, lover,” he whispered directly into his ear and watched his breath cause goosebumps to break out on Daniel’s skin.
A deflection. But Daniel didn’t question him. He hardly ever did, just took Armand at his word and ran his wet hands up the length of his back, nails dragging over his skin as he explored every bump of his spine; the curve of his shoulder blades. Armand tipped his head back in silent demand that Daniel kiss his neck, a command Daniel picked up on easily. He truly was such a gift. Armand never had to use his influence on him at all.
He looked up at the painted ceiling as Daniel’s mouth found its way over his clavicles, and tried to focus on what sensation he was able to get from being touched in this way. The angels on the ceiling, ripped from some crumbling chateau and transported to their London flat, danced and blurred before his eyes.
He felt quite enough, as it turned out. The heat of Daniel’s lips on his skin, his tongue licking over the tendon that joined his throat to his chest- it sparked something warm in him. Some old memory of arousal, that flooded every inch of him and made his stolen blood rush in his veins. It mixed with the thirst, had him as full of desire for Daniel as Daniel was for him. A different kind of desire, perhaps, but desire all the same.
Armand curled his fingers in Daniel’s golden hair. Inhaled softly when he bit down on the tender artery that ran the length of his throat. His flesh was caught between Daniel’s teeth and he felt the far off sensation of being pinched as he tugged at it, rolled it. Tried to make himself a little gash.
If there is something you want, you have only to ask.
Daniel’s mind was a tangle of disjointed images. Drinking from Armand’s throat. Laying Armand out on that centuries old bed and fucking him like a mortal. The burn of the blood in his throat. Curiosity over whether he’d be as warm inside as he felt outside tonight.
Armand rolled his hips down into Daniel’s lap. The thirst prickled in his mouth.
“You have to pick one, lover. Which will it be?” he asked and tugged at Daniel’s hair, hard enough he was forced to lift his head.
Daniel’s eyes were wide, glazed over with that haze of lust Armand had become so familiar with. He bit his own tongue, let the blood seep into the seam of his closed lips. Watched Daniel struggle with indecision as he brushed his knuckles over the spot on his throat he’d drank from not twenty four hours ago.
Daniel’s adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. In a subconscious act he licked his lips. He was finding it so difficult to choose.
“I want to fuck you,” Daniel said, voice thick. “If that’s something you would be into.”
Armand swallowed the mouthful of his blood. Some remained on his teeth. He could easily have licked it off but then again Daniel had been honest about his desires. Just a little taste. That would be enough of a reward.
He took Daniel’s face in his hands and kissed him, open mouthed and filthy. Daniel arched up toward him and licked eagerly into his mouth. He didn’t even flinch from the pain of Armand letting his fang pierce his tongue, just dug his nails into his narrow shoulders and held tight while Armand took his little mouthful of him in return. For that brief second they were connected by the blood. Just one being, wrapped in a ruby red haze, hearts beating as one as they drank from one another and then broke apart.
Even Armand’s chest was heaving when he sat back. The overripe fruit he’d eaten in his master’s home, their juices running down his fingers and chin, could not compare to the taste of Daniel in his mouth. He brushed his thumbs back and forth over Daniel’s cheekbones and let the golden mist recede from his field of vision. Inside he was on fire. He could hardly find words to speak.
“You may have me however you like,” Armand murmured. “So long as you promise to clean up your mess when you’re done.”
Daniel laughed. “What, as if it’s that hard to go get a towel?”
Daniel had no idea what he intended to do with him. Good. Armand so very much enjoyed surprising him. And tonight he had every intention of leaving him completely, utterly spent.
He brushed the tips of their noses together, close enough it seemed as if he might kiss Daniel again. Armand took such pleasure in the way Daniel chased his mouth when he pulled away. Even before having shared the blood Daniel had always been so eager for his affections. The fact that Daniel had chosen that, something carnal and physical, over another drink from his throat pleased him somehow.
It was possible Daniel had him figured out, that he understood the thirst would eventually outweigh Armand’s desire to make him live with his choice. But Daniel was an honest thing. It was equally likely that for the time being he was desired for more than the bloody gifts he could give.
That would change, of course. Armand knew it in his gut. But right now Daniel desired a consummation, one he was happy to give.
Armand leaned in close and this time when Daniel followed he allowed him to catch his mouth and kiss him. To pull him in close, heedless of the way water spilled over the edge of the bath and onto the floor. There would be a terrible mess to clean up when they got out. Armand couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He was too enthralled by the sensation of Daniel, hard and insistent between his parted thighs. He kept shifting his hips, rubbing against him without intending to at all. If he peered into Daniel’s mind he could feel the rush he got from the wet glide of his cock against his thigh, the sensation heightened by his little taste of the blood.
Armand rolled his hips down and drank in the little moan Daniel let out against his mouth. It was so easy to drag these sounds from him.
“Daniel, take me to bed,” he murmured between kisses.
Daniel’s pulse jumped beneath his fingertips. He nodded even though he made no attempt to pull away and get out of the tub. Caught Armand’s lower lip between his teeth and kissed him more, until his own lips were flushed and swollen with it, and Armand had to push him away to get him moving.
Go. Before you spend against my leg and get nothing from me at all, Armand warned, if only to see Daniel blush.
He allowed himself to be dried off as he stood on the bath mat, to have the towel wrapped around him as if he required the warmth of it. When Daniel went to pick him up he let himself be light, wrapped his arms around his damp shoulders as he carried him off to the bedroom.
When they got there Daniel had forgotten all about his fears of damaging the old four poster bed. He put Armand down in the center of the velvet covers and climbed on top of him as if they were in any hotel they’d ever been to. Armand had wondered if he would be nervous, hesitant to touch him, but he wasn’t. Either the blood had made him bold, or the curiosity of what it would be like to get Armand beneath him outweighed any shyness on his part.
Armand laid back. Put his hands above his head on the pillow and closed his eyes as Daniel kissed his way over his clavicles, down his sternum. Paused in the center of his chest to feel for the slow beat of his dead heart. Armand could hear his heart as well, pounding over the distant sounds of traffic outside. For the moment he pushed that awareness aside, tried to focus only on physical sensation and ignore the thirst. Daniel’s teeth closed on his nipple and Armand’s nails dug into his palms at the vague prick of pain.
It was so different from what he remembered from when he was a mortal, yet so very much the same. Like some gossamer sheet had been laid over his body and Daniel was kissing him through it; the sensation distant but still enough to make a tingle spread through his skin. His entire body sang with it as Daniel made his way down.
He watched through hooded eyes as Daniel’s mouth brushed across his stomach. Over the jut of his hip. When Daniel’s face came close to his cock he heard his pulse pick up speed, and he glanced up at Armand through his lashes as if asking permission to touch him. Armand grabbed him by the hair and guided his face down between his legs. Inhaled quietly when Daniel sucked the tip of his cock into his mouth.
Warmth. The feeling of Daniel’s blood rushing within the delicate veins inside his mouth. The pleasure of it couldn’t make him completely hard but that was no matter. The way Daniel swallowing the length of him made his vision go hazy from the thirst was more than enough.
He’s so strong he could hold me down and smother me and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, Daniel thought even as the tip of his nose brushed against Armand’s stomach.
Armand carded his fingers through his hair, twisting at it hard to make Daniel moan around him. He felt the vibration of it roll in waves across his skin. I imagine you would enjoy it. I’ve never known anyone to fetishize death as you do, Daniel.
Daniel was flushed right down to his chest when he finally pulled him off. “You taught me to be this way,” he said and then glanced at his half-hard cock, still slick and shiny with his saliva. “You’re not-”
“I know,” Armand said and reached for the pouch on the nightstand, handing it over to Daniel. “But I enjoyed your mouth on me well enough.”
It was the same bag he’d had that first time he’d demanded Daniel take him back to his hotel room so he could lay him out on the bed and take him apart with his hands. Armand watched him sort through his things. He arched his back and stretched, skin going tight over his torso and exposing his ribs and distracting Daniel so badly he nearly dropped the container he’d been looking for.
“Is it so difficult to be in the same room as me when I am undressed?” Armand asked as he parted his thighs, making space for Daniel to get back between them.
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”
Armand tilted his head back, exposed the long line of his throat. Dragged his own fingertips over chest, down his pale stomach and listened to Daniel’s heart pound as he watched him. “What exactly am I doing, Daniel?” he asked as he drew his knees up toward his chest.
Daniel could not answer. Even his mind held no thoughts, only the image of Armand in the dim light of the room, lying there waiting for him. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life and his nerves were starting to fray at the idea that they were actually about to do this thing which he’d only ever fantasized about. Armand reached down, ran his fingertip over his leaking cock, and got his hand batted away.
“Don’t, I’ll come before we even get started,” Daniel warned.
For a moment he had to drag his hands over his face and take a deep breath. Armand lay there patiently and let him collect himself. He was always so easily overwhelmed. His hands were trembling when he finally went to open the lubricant.
Don’t bother using your fingers on me. There is no chance you will hurt me, Armand demanded when he went to get his fingers slick.
Daniel looked as if he might question him. Funny how one moment this boy would be thinking of how Armand could kill him with barely any effort, and the next he worried about causing him pain. He acquiesced in the end, though. He always did. Daniel took a deep, shuddering breath as he ran his slick hand over his cock and moved to lean down over Armand once more.
Armand cupped his cheeks in his hands, held him tight so he could not look away as he pressed into him. There was pressure. Some vague and distant sensation of something within him that Armand ignored entirely in favor of taking in the way Daniel’s eyes went wide. The steady throb of his heart, so loud he could no longer hear the click of the radiator. The way his breathing picked up as he tried to maintain control of himself when their hips met.
He’s so warm he feels alive.
The thought played over and over in Daniel’s mind as Armand wrapped his legs around his waist, dug his heels in and urged him on.
Have me however you like, beloved, Armand demanded when he hesitated and finally, Daniel let himself go.
The memory of how this was supposed to feel was so faded, so far off. Armand tried to settle into the sensory experience of it, of having Daniel completely surround him. The taste of his sweat when he licked it from his shoulder and made him shiver with it. The feeling of having Daniel’s pulse racing within his own body, of the sensations he was experiencing as he thrust in hard and fucked Armand into the mattress.
That thought of Daniel’s kept playing in his mind. I’m living with a dead guy- over and over on repeat. He’d never been so aware of what exactly he was.
Armand sifted through his memories, back to the last time they’d been together. He searched for some mortal sensation he could cling to.
It was still so vivid in Daniel’s mind, the memory of Armand’s fingers curling inside him. He’d played it on loop, gotten off thinking about it more times than he could count. Armand latched onto it. Fed on that feeling of being stretched full, of heat shooting through his groin and nearly making his knees buckle with the pleasure of it. Rewound it in his mind so that every time Daniel’s hips met his, coming together with clap of flesh meeting flesh, he felt that pleasure that had been missing in his dead form.
He clutched at Daniel’s shoulders. Inhaled sharply as stolen memory and reality blurred. Let his nails dig into Daniel’s skin until it broke and the scent of blood made his mouth prickle with want.
Daniel was sucking at his throat hard enough he could feel the vague ache of it. He lifted his head and brought his bloody fingertips to his mouth, where Daniel could not see them. Licked them clean and let out a quiet sound at the haze that clouded his vision. Everything was a blur of pleasure. Even Daniel’s chest reverberating against his with the little noises that kept escaping him sent a tingle across Armand’s skin and made him cling tighter to him.
Daniel was so close his entire body was drawn tight as the string on a bow. Armand rolled his hips up to meet his thrusts and delighted in the way Daniel’s hand found its way into his hair and pulled in response.
“Yes, harder,” Armand murmured.
Immediately Daniel wrapped his auburn curls around his hand, pulled hard enough he had to tip his head back and follow his hand. The prickle in his scalp was barely there but Daniel had so many delicious memories of Armand pulling his hair that it didn’t matter. The ache in his mind felt as though it was happening in Armand’s own body and that was enough.
He’d missed the pleasure in pain. Through Daniel he feasted on it, the memory of the brilliant red ache of a sharp hand on his skin, the full body shudder of teeth piercing into his throat. The blessed golden haze that came after that made him feel as though he were flying. Armand closed his eyes, breathed softly through his mouth. Let the stolen memory of sensation blend with the desire to sink his teeth into Daniel’s throat, to feel his artery break open and for the blood to spill hard over his tongue.
Armand lost track of time. He didn’t even realize he’d sunken his teeth into Daniel’s shoulder until he heard his moan, felt the heat of his blood rush over his tongue. The drink he took from him was deep, a great and terrible mouthful, but brief. Just enough that the rush from blood loss pushed Daniel over the edge, made him throb deep within him and come so hard he felt weak with it.
Daniel hardly weighed anything when he collapsed onto his chest. Armand carded his fingers through his sweaty hair and let him catch his breath. He licked the last remaining blood off his teeth and then, with a gentle shove, put Daniel on his back.
“You promised to clean up your mess,” Armand reminded him when he gave him a quizzical look.
Before Daniel could protest he swung his leg over him, and straddled his chest. Heard Daniel’s soft “oh,” behind him as he suddenly got the idea and settled his shaking hands on Armand’s hips to guide him back.
Had Armand been mortal his thighs might have been trembling too. He could feel Daniel’s mess leaking out of him, down the inside of his thigh. Armand reached back, tangled his fingers in Daniel’s hair and guided him to it. He didn’t even have to command him. Before he could say a thing Daniel’s tongue was on his skin, licking hot and wet up the inside of thigh. Up further, until it was pressing inside him.
Armand twisted his fingers in Daniel’s hair and felt his moan against his skin. Felt his tongue, hot and wet and so alive it thrust into him. He sat back, settled more of his weight onto Daniel and listened to his heart pound at just how difficult it was to take a breath with Armand resting fully against his face.
For this, he didn’t require any of Daniel’s memories. The pleasure of making his pulse race when he lifted his hips, gave Daniel a second to inhale, and then sat back again was more than enough. It had Daniel’s brain too muddled for any coherent thought. When Armand looked into his mind all he could find was that jumbled, desperate please, the singular thought Daniel was capable of when he was in this hazy and impressionable state.
Well. Since he was asking so nicely in his thoughts.
Armand timed it out. Sat back against his face for longer and longer periods, until Daniel was becoming dizzy as he licked into him. Pulled off just when it seemed too much and then delighted in his open mouthed gasp. He could not see Daniel’s face but he was certain it was red. Red like the pleasure that was flowing through him and clouding his vision whenever he slipped into his mind and felt him struggling to breathe.
Before him Daniel was half hard; his natural functions enhanced by the blood, if only temporarily. Armand reached forward, took him in his hand and stroked. He got a smothered little gasp in response, one he snuffed out when he sat back and cut off Daniel's breathing again.
It was nothing to get him hard again. Just a twist of his wrist and his steady, insistent weight against Daniel’s mouth. He rocked his hips, grinded down against his tongue. Looked into Daniel’s mind and found him floating on the pleasure of being used in such a way.
“You are always so easy to turn into a quivering mess, Daniel,” Armand murmured. Daniel could only whine in response.
His cock was so slick in his hand. Armand set a steady pace, quick, insistent strokes that had him trying to lift his hips off the bed and thrust into his hand. His body was so exhausted. Daniel was so overwhelmed he could hardly cooperate. All he could do was rut up desperately as Armand smothered him again, just a little, enough to make his vision blur.
Armand watched his toes curl against the blankets. His legs jerked when he ran his thumb over the wetness at the tip of his cock, when he settled more of his weight on his mouth. Daniel’s stomach had gone taut, he was so close again already. He wondered if anything more would come out of him or if he’d spent all that he had to give. Armand stroked him faster, curious to see.
In his curiosity he forgot, just for a moment, about letting Daniel catch his breath. But it was that which finished him for the second time. The hint of panic that crept in when Armand didn’t lift his hips, when the tightness in his chest hit that edge of just too much. Daniel throbbed in his hand, spilled just a little more. Gave a wretched, ragged gasp when he did lift his hips and allow him his breath again.
Armand shifted over and knelt at Daniel’s shoulder as he watched him gain his senses back. He petted hair gently, murmured sweet nothings to Daniel about how good he had been, how well he’d done. Daniel closed his eyes and weakly kissed his wrist in response.
The impetus was there to drink from him again. To allow Daniel another drink in reward. Would it spoil the moment, reminding Daniel of what he was, and jar back all of that awareness that he was in an unnatural place with such an unnatural being? His mortal performance as Daniel had fucked him had, he thought, been rather impressive.
Armand closed his eyes briefly. Listened to some young mortals on the street below, drunk and laughing, and tried to drown out the siren song of Daniel’s heart.
“Was there some book you were reading, Daniel?” he asked suddenly.
Daniel looked up at him through glazed eyes. “Yeah, in my backpack. Why?”
Armand got up. He grabbed the towel off the floor and wiped himself clean with it. When he returned to the bed he had a glass of water in hand for Daniel, and the worn out paperback he’d bought in the Rome airport.
Together they got under the covers, Daniel’s head on his chest as if Armand could actually stay the whole night. At last he had no qualms about making a mess of the expensive bedding, no more worries about the furniture in the rest of the house. His mind was blissfully devoid of all thought about where they were as Armand opened the book. The page he’d left off on was folded at the corner and Armand scanned the words for where to begin.
“You won’t know what’s going on if you start from the middle like that,” Daniel murmured. His heart was still pounding against Armand’s ribs.
“It does not matter. I’ll catch on quickly enough,” Armand said.
His free hand found its way into Daniel’s hair, to scratch at his scalp and soothe the skin he’d made ache so terribly. When he’d been younger this had always been his favorite part, falling asleep with a cold but gentle hand on him as he listened to whatever book held the lesson of the week. He’d been able to drift on the words as the adrenaline seeped from his body and exhaustion set in.
Armand kissed Daniel’s head and began to read.
In the end the story did not matter. He took in so little of it. His mind was almost entirely focused on the boy at his side; the warmth of his skin and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as sleep took him. How beautiful his Daniel was in repose. Armand would have watched him all day if only he could.
He could not, of course. As the sky turned pink he slipped out of bed and put back on his clothes. For a moment Armand paused in the entryway and looked back into the dark rooms.
Home. For Daniel, perhaps. Assuming he overcame whatever trepidation that lurked within him. But how could an unnatural thing like him ever have a home?
He needed no key at the door this time. Armand turned the lock with his mind and left the place and all of his worries about it behind. With any luck, whatever was troubling Daniel about the flat would disappear.
—
The days that followed were a blur.
Armand arrived at the flat promptly at sundown, retrieved Daniel, and then they were off for the night. To plays and films, to symphonies. At last Armand saw those operas which he’d missed out on during his time in Les Innocents, or which he had eschewed for lack of a companion to attend with. But now he had Daniel. And if Daniel was not always awake for the performance he did not mind. He was still there, cheek resting against Armand’s shoulder as Armand took in the night’s entertainment.
And regardless, he was always awake afterwards for the parties that followed, for Armand had no qualms about talking to strangers on the street and following them back to their homes to continue the conversation. He engaged happily in philosophical debates, in conversations about modern morals, chatter about fashion- anything and everything he talked to these kind and passionate mortals about. At his side Daniel sipped at a beer or smoked a cigarette. They only went home when Armand had thoroughly worn out every guest and the conversation died.
And then, in the flat, he wore out Daniel too. With just a quick sip off his wrist Daniel would rouse long enough for Armand to lay him out on the bed and ride him, his hand wrapped tight around Daniel’s throat until he could take no more.
It became a nightly ritual. Partly for the pleasure of it, partly to ensure Daniel would put aside his troubles and sleep. He was still so ill at ease within the flat. He hardly spent any of his time there when he was alone.
And besides, Armand hardly knew what to do in the place if he wasn’t copulating with Daniel. He had so little use for so much that was within a home.
The nights went on. The strange rift that had appeared between them the moment they stepped into the flat continued to grow. There was something frustrated and angry brewing beneath Daniel’s skin. Armand avoided the conflict. He continued to take Daniel out, to stay away from the place until necessity demanded their return every night just before the sun came up. To fuck him until he had no words for whatever was bothering him and the issue was put aside.
On one cold and damp night their companions called it early. They had to retire, they said, they must go to work early the next day. Armand found himself walking Daniel out into the rain shortly after midnight, hand in the crook of his elbow as he searched for some place for them to go.
“Perhaps we should hail a taxi, surely a driver could tell us something that is open late-” Armand began.
Beside him Daniel put up the hood on his jacket. “Are you that bored with me already?”
Armand stopped cold in the middle of the sidewalk. He looked up into Daniel’s eyes. They had dark marks beneath them, signs of mortal exhaustion that could be wiped away by the blood. He could not give that to him here on the street, of course. An alley, perhaps. He glanced around.
“Why would you say such a thing?” he asked.
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Because you take any excuse you can to go out somewhere that you don’t have to talk to me? We never just hang out anymore,” he said as he fished in his pockets for his cigarettes. Armand held his hand up to shelter the flame on his lighter from the wind. “It’s not like you spend any time in that cage of a house unless you’re fucking me.”
Armand took a step back. “Whatever do you mean?”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, it’s not cute when we’re not in bed. You can’t be so delusional that you think I haven’t noticed how you take me straight to bed and take off like you can’t tolerate being in the house with me.”
“That’s only because you cannot tolerate the place yourself, and I cannot pretend to know why. I have seen it in your mind.”
“Of course, easier to see it in my mind than ask me yourself,” Daniel scoffed around his cigarette.
“Yes, because you will not tell me why you refuse to spend any time there when I am not around,” Armand said, accent going sharp. “You wake, you go to some cafe for your meal. You read the paper there, or your book. You go back before sunset to get back into bed and nap until I arrive. You do not treat the place as a home and so I cannot either.”
“Yeah, because how can I treat it like a home when I didn’t have a say in anything about it? I didn’t get to choose so much as a goddamned towel that’s in there. And don’t start giving me crap about taking care of me, it’s not taking care of me when it’s something I never told you I wanted done.” Daniel pushed his glasses up and rubbed at his eyes. “That’s not how living together works. You can’t just pick me up and drop me off like a kid going to daycare. I have to have some say in how my fucking life works, Armand.”
“If you wished to go shopping then you needed only say something-”
“When? Every time you come in you practically shove me out the door in a hurry to leave and go do something. You’re hard to say no to,” Daniel said. “You’ve got this way of just steam rolling me until I forget what I was aggravated by in the first place and get overwhelmed.”
“Then what is it that you want from me, Daniel?”
Armand stared at him. He had half a mind to turn and walk away, as he had so many times when they’d been playing their game of cat and mouse, but then Daniel let out a delirious laugh.
“What is it now?” Armand snapped.
“I want to ask you to go home with me and lay down on the couch but I’m too goddamned terrified of it to lay on it,” Daniel said. “Isn’t that ridiculous? My whole life is a joke sometimes.”
Armand cocked his head. “Why in the world are you afraid of a sofa? You make no sense at all, Daniel.”
“Because it’s old? It probably belongs in a museum? Because it looks so uncomfortable I think my ass would hurt after sitting on it for ten minutes? I don’t know, take your pick. There’s plenty of reasons why. And if I can’t even relax on the couch how the hell am I supposed to relax in the rest of the place?”
Armand stared at him, confused and uncomprehending. He had hardly any idea what Daniel meant. Such furniture was natural to him. He had only ever experienced hard wood, cushions stuffed firm with horsehair and covered in silk.
Daniel sighed. He put his arm around Armand’s shoulders, steering him back toward their building. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“There is nothing uncomfortable to me about anything in our home,” Armand said, frowning.
The gulf of experience between them felt enormous as they walked up the stairs, into the building and out of the rain. Perhaps it had been folly to think someone such as him could connect with a mortal so intimately. As Daniel fished in his pockets for the keys, Armand felt the weight of that particular fear like a stone.
Together they went inside, Daniel feeling along the wall for the lightswitches which were still unfamiliar to him. Strange, how after all they had gone through it seemed as if a shared home might be their undoing. Perhaps the magazines he’d read in that mortal woman’s apartment, who had hosted the last party -Maria? Mary Anne? They’d met so many people of late they’d begun to blur together- well, perhaps her magazines had been right. One must live with their lover before committing in any other meaningful way, and not wait until after.
Once in the bedroom Daniel stripped out of his damp clothes. Cigarette still dangling from his lips, he searched the drawers until he found a soft pair of sweatpants. He stepped into them then pulled out another pair, and a t-shirt.
“Here. So you don’t have a heart attack about your damp clothes damaging the bedspread,” he said and tossed them at Armand.
Armand opened his mouth to defend himself, but then he saw the mirth at the corner’s of Daniel’s eyes; in the set of his mouth, holding back a smile.
It was only teasing. Armand huffed out a sigh and changed, rolling up the ankles of the pants until they no longer dragged the floor. He felt like a child again, dressed in Riccardo’s worn doublet and hose. They had hung limply on him, large in all the wrong places, just as Daniel’s clothes were. But these clothes were soft and loose, with no buttons or fastenings at all. And they carried that particular smell, of smoke and cologne and something particular to Daniel’s skin.
Armand looked at himself in the mirror. Saw Daniel sitting behind him on the edge of the bed, watching him with soft and curious eyes. He always looked at Armand with interest but upon seeing him in these things of his something else had entered his expression; something fond and loving despite their earlier argument. Armand wrestled with the way that made his insides twist.
He went over to the bed. Crawled into Daniel’s lap, careful to avoid the burning cigarette in his hand, and kissed softly at his jaw.
“Mm, that’s nice, but you’re not getting me in bed and getting out of this,” Daniel murmured. He let Armand kiss his cheek and then gently ducked away before he could do it again. “Besides, you fuck like an animal. I think my dick will fall off if I have to do that seven nights in a row.”
“You are barely twenty five years old, have you no stamina at such a young age?” Armand asked just to see Daniel roll his eyes.
“Listen, you try being a normal person and having stamina after you get dragged out all night, every night for a couple weeks. And you’re not an easy lay, you wear me out and then drink half my blood after. It’s hard to bounce back from that.” Daniel exhaled a stream of smoke, careful to breathe it away from Armand’s face. “What is ‘home’ to you? What does it mean?”
They had not had this type of conversation in a long while. Armand sat back on his thighs, put a little space between them so that he could think.
Home. A difficult concept for one such as him, who could not sleep in the place where he spent his waking hours. True, he did not sleep far from this apartment. In fact he’d found a long forgotten cellar quite close by so that should Daniel ever be in trouble he could be there quickly. But that was not a place of relaxation, only one of repose.
“I am not certain,” he had to admit. “It is simply a place one goes when they wish to be alone, or when they do not have anything to do in the outside world. The concept of home ceased to carry an emotional connection for me very long ago. Why do you ask?”
“Because I wanted to understand where you’re coming from, and now I think I do. Why don’t you feel any connection to the idea of a home? Surely you had a home when you were the theater director?” Daniel asked.
“The theater was my place of business. The place I showed to Louis, that you know about- that was something of a private office, I suppose. A study wherein I could be alone. That’s all.”
“But it didn’t feel like home? Even though you could relax there?”
“No. For a place to be home there must be love. There was no love in that place, it was only a space,” Armand said.
Daniel nodded. “So you do have an idea of what home is. It’s a place where there is love.”
Armand averted his eyes. He had not realized he’d said such a thing. Hadn’t even realized he’d thought it, but the more he considered it the more he believed it to be true. He pulled at a stray thread on the hem of Daniel’s t-shirt, neatly breaking it off and setting it in the ashtray on the nightstand as he considered what to say.
“Yes. Perhaps.”
“So then this place we’re in right now, is there love here?”
Armand eyed him with suspicion. “You are using the socratic method as a weapon against me, to get me to admit I have done something wrong.”
“Maybe,” Daniel said with a laugh. “Play along, just for a minute. I’m not trying to embarrass you or anything, I just want to make sure I understand you. Is there love here?”
Armand looked around them, at the silk fabric covered walls and the old dentil molding around the ceiling. The pieces of art, chosen for them by another. The bed, sourced from some antiques shop that neither of them had ever been to. The only evidence of either of them was their wet clothes on the floor and Daniel’s book on the nightstand. It was neither as sterile as a hotel room nor as lived in as a proper home. It was only a space.
“No. I suppose there is not,” Armand said quietly. “A mistake. It will be rectified.”
“You say this shit so seriously, like you’re a politician and not just some guy who needs to redecorate,” Daniel teased, and prodded at Armand’s cheek when his mouth twisted into a frown. “Hey, have you ever really sat down and watched tv?”
Armand hesitated. Difficult to believe that was that. That such a problem could be fixed so easily with a short conversation, and then Daniel would be all smiles once again. He kept waiting for him to change his mind, for something else sharp to come out.
And yet nothing did.
Armand shook his head. “No, I don’t suppose that I have.”
There was a tv set in view of the bed but he could not recall ever having paid much attention to one, except in a shop window once or twice. He settled in against the pillows while Daniel got down and fussed with the thing. He flipped through the small handful of channels and settled on something. A music program it seemed. Old Grey Whistle Test. Armand watched the musicians on the screen, curious how they could be performing in a studio and appear live on the television in this room.
He didn’t notice Daniel had left the room until he returned, bottle of beer in hand, and laid back beside him.They shifted around until Armand was tucked against his side, head on Daniel’s shoulder. He could barely take his eyes off the television screen.
“Is this what people do at home now?” Armand murmured.
Daniel laughed and reached up to absently play with his hair. “Yeah, pretty much. You should try being home more often.”
Perhaps Armand would.
—
The home furnishings store was immense, and every bit as fascinating as the symphony Armand had originally planned to take Daniel to would have been. He had never seen such an array of furniture meant specifically for lounging upon. Especially not furniture stuffed so full it seemed likely to burst, as if it contained some giant cloud within the colorful fabric.
Daniel sat on an oversized velvet sofa and patted the seat beside him. Armand joined him. He sank deep into the cushions immediately.
“How is anyone meant to accomplish anything, when everything in their home is as large and luxurious as a bed?” Armand asked as he pushed at the seat and felt it give beneath his immortal hand.
“Being comfortable is the point. Is this some old religious thing for you? Did people used to believe you had to suffer when you sat around so you wouldn’t take too much pleasure in it?” Daniel asked.
Armand ignored that particular line of questioning. “If you like it we will purchase it. And the matching armchair.”
Already Daniel appeared to be relieved. The weight upon Armand’s heart lightened. He followed him around the store, examining the things Daniel seemed to like, and those he disliked as well. There seemed to be no reason to it, except that he prioritized comfort and functionality above all else. The decorations, those he left to Armand. He hardly minded having the works of the old masters staring down from their walls.
It was things like the tables he was concerned with, things he might forget a glass on and leave damaged. He had some distant memory of being shouted at by his mother for leaving a water ring on their new coffee table. It was in the back of his mind as he looked at a nightstand.
Perhaps Daniel’s childhood home had not been a comfortable place after all. Armand had never thought to ask. As he had no point of reference besides the outrageous levels of freedom he’d experienced in Venice, he hadn’t thought things could be any other way for children in this modern age.
“Daniel,” Armand began.
Daniel looked up from the display of throw pillows. The dark circles under his eyes had lightened as a result of retiring early the night before, Armand noticed as he went to stand beside him. He carefully touched one of the pillows. Soft. Nothing like the embroidered ones of his youth.
“I did not get to ask you what home means to you,” Armand said.
Daniel chewed at his lower lip as he considered the question. “I think home is the one place where you can really be yourself. Because people at home are different from who they are when they’re out, right?” he asked.
“Am I different when we go out?”
“Yeah. You put on this…performance. I don’t know how to explain it. You do all of these things that make you become someone people are comfortable with, and you get really charming. I can see the part of you that was on stage once,” Daniel said slowly, as if he was being careful not to be offensive. “You never did those things with me. You were always a little weird, in a way that ended up being endearing.”
Armand furrowed his brow. This was something he had never been made aware of, never even considered. He rolled Daniel’s words over in his mind as they wandered into the bedding department.
“So then by your definition, you are home to me. If you are where I am most myself,” Armand said as they stopped before a shelf of blankets. “Do you wish to have a new bed as well?”
Daniel paused, taken aback by the sudden change in topic.
“Well. If you’d like to put it that way, then yeah. I guess I would be home to you,” he said quietly, as though overawed by hearing such a thing. For a moment he stood there, silently looking at the shelf, unable to meet Armand’s eyes. I am home to him, he thought over and over. “No, I don’t think I want to change the bed. It’s nice and…we had kind of a first time there, right? When we first moved in? It feels like a significant place because of that.”
Armand smiled. “A romantic as ever, Daniel.”
Daniel’s cheeks flushed red. Beneath the distant melody of department store music and the chatter of the customers around them Armand heard his heart begin to race.
“You walk me into saying these things and then hassle me for it,” he muttered and tossed a throw blanket at Armand to take to the register. “Give me your credit card, I’ll take care of the shipping stuff.”
Armand handed over his wallet quite happily.
—
The next evening when Armand arrived he did not wake Daniel immediately.
Instead he wandered into the unfamiliar space that was the kitchen. He made coffee, as he had seen Daniel do so many times. Poured cereal and milk into a bowl, and then picked up the entire box of sugar and took the whole meal into the bedroom. Before he roused Daniel he changed into one of his t-shirts and then climbed up onto the bed.
Perhaps he had no use for many things within a home. But Daniel did. And though he could not participate in these mortal rituals himself he could still take part, and find ways to make himself comfortable in every part of their apartment. He could make himself part of this place. After all, Daniel’s smile when he saw the cup of coffee ready for him had been a great reward. He did not even seem to mind that Armand had used far too many scoops of coffee grounds and made it terribly strong.
With a start to his evening like that, Daniel was all too happy to be led out into the livingroom. And Armand was all all too happy to be there with him. There would be no performance on his part tonight. Only pleasure for pleasure’s sake, exactly as he experienced it in this immortal form.
—
“Oh, beloved,” Armand murmured as he brushed the backs of his fingers over Daniel’s cheek, where it was flushed such a beautiful shade of red. “I know you’re making such an effort to be good and be still. If I let your wrists go will you promise to keep them there until I say?”
Truthfully, Armand did not have to ask. He only did so because he enjoyed watching Daniel, whose mouth had gone dry with lust, struggle to speak. In the end all he could do was nod, sweat damp hair falling into his eyes. Armand let go of his wrists and brushed it away.
The new sofa had been delivered earlier that day. Oversized and made of something soft and velvet-like, it was long enough he could lay Daniel out upon it and his feet would not touch the end. That was how Armand currently had him: completely bare, wrists crossed above his head on the arm of the sofa as Armand straddled his lap. It was Daniel who had suggested breaking it in. If he was getting more than he had bargained for, well that was hardly Armand’s fault.
Somewhere in the room the clock struck nine. In the background a television program was playing. Daniel noticed neither. All of his attention was on the way his t-shirt left Armand’s clavicles exposed, how the hem of it was just long enough to come down over the tops of his thighs. He loved having Armand nude, he thought about it endlessly but this- something about the sight of him in this worn and faded shirt stoked his lust in a way that Armand had not expected.
Armand shifted his hips. Felt the distant throb of Daniel’s cock inside him. He’d been teasing him like this for a good while now, just sitting in his lap and pretending to watch the television. Armand had promised him that he would let him go and allow him to fuck him properly when an advertisement came on.
Unfortunately for Daniel, there seemed to be no commercials on this channel at all.
Armand released his wrists. Sat back, palm flat on Daniel’s chest above his pounding heart, and watched him flex and clench his fingers as he struggled with the desire to reach out and touch him. To lift his hips and thrust up as deep inside him as he could go. When he took a deep breath and did not move at all Armand smiled.
“Very good. Would you like a reward?” Armand asked.
Daniel swallowed hard. His mind was a blur as he wondered what he might get. If Armand would relent and let him thrust up into him at last, if he’d be allowed to run his hands up under his own t-shirt and get a feel of his unnaturally warm skin. If it would be the blood, that was always a good one, he would never say no to the chance to press his lips to Armand’s narrow wrist-
“Well if you cannot answer then I suppose you don’t-”
“Yes,” Daniel gasped. “Yes. I want something. Anything.”
“Anything? And what if I simply climb off your lap and don’t touch you at all?”
For once, Daniel was too turned on to even manage a sarcastic response. Armand smirked when all he could do was let out a desperate whine. He patted Daniel’s cheek and then took hold of his jaw.
“Open your mouth.”
At first Daniel only parted his lips slightly but all it took was a sharp glance to get him to open up entirely; Armand’s iron grip preventing him from getting shy and closing it again. Would that he were mortal again. Armand could think of so many ways to chase his pleasure in that mouth. He tilted Daniel’s face this way and that, listening to the nervous thoughts swimming in his head, the blood rushing out of his heart and straight up into his cheeks.
Armand bit his tongue. Let the blood pool behind his lips. Bent slightly and spit it straight into Daniel’s open and waiting mouth.
The humiliation of it made Daniel’s eyes go wide. Even the pleasure of the blood burning its way into his veins wasn’t enough to keep him from blushing scarlet straight down to his chest, to keep him from averting his gaze away from Armand’s. Armand let go of his jaw, tapped on his chin so he’d close his mouth. His mind was such a knot of confused and embarrassed thoughts he’d forgotten all about his aching cock inside Armand until he shifted his hips again, and brought that little problem right back to the forefront of his mind.
“Swallow,” he demanded.
He gave Daniel’s cheek a patronizing little pat when he did. Daniel closed his eyes and turned his face toward his own bicep, as though he were trying to hide.
Not that he could. Armand had felt his dick pulse inside him when he’d spat into his mouth. No matter how much he refused to admit it, Armand knew he loved being treated like a thing to be used and degraded.
Jesus, is this what he does when he leaves? Lays around and think of ways to torture me?
You enjoy it, Daniel, Armand said, straight into his brain, and brought his hands to rest on Daniel’s heaving chest. You wanted to fuck me on our new sofa, you wanted the blood. Am I not giving you everything you want?
Daniel inhaled sharply. “Say that out loud.”
Armand slid forward. Ran his hands up Daniel’s throat and into his hair, forcing him to turn his face and look at him. This close they were nearly chest to chest. Armand couldn’t resist the urge to lick Daniel’s artery, following his racing pulse all the way up to his jaw. There was something so delicious about it, the taste of salt and the heat of his skin. Armand made a soft sound and rolled his hips just to feel Daniel tremble beneath him.
“Say what out loud?” he murmured.
“The part about fucking you,” Daniel said, voice rough.
Armand laughed quietly. “You only want to hear me be crass.”
Beneath him Daniel was so tense his hands were shaking. The blood had taken effect, the tingle of it distracting him enough to pull him back from the edge of orgasm, but it did nothing to dull the awareness of Armand clenching around him. If anything it heightened it. He’d made sure to feed well before arriving so that he would be impossibly, inhumanly hot and Daniel kept having to press his heels into the soft cushions of the sofa to keep from thrusting up into him.
Armand nuzzled at his throat. Listened to the wet sound of Daniel swallowing, the gentle rasp of his breath. There was so much pleasure to be found just in the experience of him, so full of life. He brushed his lips over Daniel’s earlobe. He nearly had this boy in tears and he hadn’t done anything at all besides sit perfectly still on his hard and aching cock.
“Put your hands on me and fuck me, Daniel,” Armand whispered, right into his ear.
It was only by luck that Daniel didn’t come right then and there.
In an instant Armand was wrapped up in him, held close as Daniel thrust up hard. It was still a distant sort of sensation but this time Armand didn’t sift through his memories in attempt to recreate it in his own mind. Just the sights and sounds of Daniel were enough.
He was looking up at Armand with something close to reverence, their faces so close Armand could feel the heat of his breath. Armand kissed him, closed his eyes. Let himself drift in the feeling of broad hands wandering over his back, up into his hair. It was as if Daniel could not get enough of him, he wanted to touch him everywhere at once. Armand let his weight shift off his elbows so he was lying on top of him chest to chest.
Beneath his sternum he could feel the pound of Daniel’s heart. Armand could not stop thinking about how he had been the one to cause that, it was only for him that Daniel’s blood rushed through his veins and left him flushed and aroused. If he sunk his teeth into Daniel’s throat right now the spray would be incredible. His blood would flood his mouth faster than Armand could swallow it.
He rocked down to meet his hips and Daniel moaned, the sound of it vibrating against his lips. The thirst was overwhelming. Armand pulled back before he gave into the temptation to bite into his tongue.
It was not that he didn’t intend to drink from him at all. Only that he wanted to wait, to make it a shared experience.
He twisted his fingers in Daniel’s hair, gave him that edge of pain that always made him gasp. “How do I feel, Daniel?” Armand murmured between kissing over his cheek.
Daniel opened his mouth to speak just as Armand clenched around him. No words came out, just a needy, choked off sound. His heart was so loud Armand couldn’t hear the television at all anymore. This time when Armand patted his cheek he didn’t roll his eyes or turn away, just tipped his face toward his palm, desperate for his touch.
“Good, I’m so close,” he finally managed to say.
His hips were losing their rhythm. A mortal might have minded but Armand didn’t. For him the greatest pleasure was in those last moments when Daniel lost all control of his functions anyways. He relaxed, let himself go pliant so that Daniel could chase his pleasure however he liked.
“I know.” Armand kissed the corner of his mouth, sweet and gentle even as he pulled at his hair. There were tears at the corners of Daniel’s eyes and when one spilled over he licked it away. “Give me your wrist, beloved.”
Daniel didn’t question him. He was beyond all coherent thought. He offered Armand his arm and shivered when he brushed his mouth against the bright blue veins on the inside of his wrist.
The temptation was there to rip into him, to let Daniel bleed hot and thick down his own arm. Armand clenched his jaw so tight it ached. Rested his forehead against Daniel’s and waited for that telltale shudder that always came when he met his end.
Yes, please. Do it, bite me, I want it-
It was not the twist of Armand’s hips but the brush of his fangs against his wrist that pushed Daniel over the edge. He came with a low sound, like he’d been gravely wounded, just as Armand’s teeth broke his skin. His blood hit the roof of Armand’s mouth, spilled over his tongue. Great, hot gushes of it that made Armand shudder with him too.
The pleasure of it was dizzying. And through the connection Armand could tell Daniel was getting something too, that the ache in his wrist was just as good as the sensation of Armand’s body, hot and tight around his cock. As he swallowed another mouthful he felt Daniel rock his hips up into him one last time and then go blissfully still.
When he pulled off there was still blood on his teeth. The taste of his own blood would have no effect on him but Daniel didn’t seem to care. He took Armand’s face in his hands and kissed him, rough and deep, until his breathing began to even out.
“Getting a new sofa was an excellent idea,” Armand said as he shifted to rest his cheek against Daniel’s chest.
Daniel laughed. “It was,” he said. “I think out of all the times we’ve done that, that was the best.”
As his sweat began to cool on his skin Daniel had started to shiver. Armand felt along the back of the couch for a blanket, unfolded it, and spread it out over them. Both of them were a mess but he couldn’t bear to get up. Daniel was too warm and solid beneath him, and when Armand settled back down his heart was still racing beneath his ear.
“Was this time so very different?” he asked.
“A bit. You were more…you?” Daniel rubbed up and down along Armand’s back as he thought. “There’s this desperate, thirsty look you get where I can tell you stop thinking about anything but drinking off me. I like it- which I know is kind of fucked up, it’s like asking you to kill me. I don’t know. I just like knowing that I have some effect on you too.”
Armand nuzzled at the fine hair on his chest. “You always have a great effect on me, Daniel.”
The television program had changed over to a comedy about a department store. Armand glanced around the room, taking in the overstuffed modern armchair that sat beneath a painting by Rembrandt. The new coffee table that Daniel had left a damp bottle of beer on. Through the great bay window Armand could see the distant lights of taxi cabs ferrying people out into the city, but he had no urge to join them.
Inside this little living room they were in a world of their own. Armand closed his eyes and tipped his chin up when Daniel began touching his face.
He was so gentle as he traced over his cheeks, across the bridge of his nose. Daniel was thinking about how rosy his cheeks were and how it was his own blood which had caused that, and nothing else. Armand looked flushed and alive all because of him. When he brushed Armand’s hair back from his forehead he turned his face and kissed his palm.
For a second Daniel’s chest went still beneath him. He’d forgotten to breathe.
I want to do this forever with him, he was thinking.
Armand tightened his grip on his waist. He so badly wanted to do this forever with Daniel too.
Outside a car honked its horn. Daniel’s fingers resumed their path over Armand’s jaw, up to the shell of his ear. Armand wanted to watch the people on the television. They were bickering about redecorating the store, but he couldn’t keep up with their conversation. Daniel had his fingers in his hair and he could barely keep his eyes open under all of the affection.
“Didn’t you want to go anywhere tonight?” Daniel asked quietly.
His nails raked over his scalp and set his immortal skin tingling. Armand gave in. He closed his eyes and stretched out. There was so much room on the sofa but still he clung to Daniel’s side.
“No,” he murmured. “I don’t wish to be anywhere else at all.”