Work Text:
Blood burns his tongue.
Armand's.
"You hold some kind of dark energy over me. You make me burn for you, and there's no elixir that can cure me."
Far from the twinkling lights of Miami's shore, Daniel Molloy overtakes him.
Every sense Armand crosses, knots—
(TASTE, salt-sweet——SEE, a faint glow of vampiric vision——SMELL, daffodils and tulips——FEEL, him.)
