Archive of Our Own

“You’re here.” Daniel says when he finds Armand standing in the dark of his run down apartment’s living room. He locks the door behind him, flicks on a light. Armand is motionless, quietly watching Daniel.

“Louis felt it would be better if I gave him the space to collect his things.” Armand tells Daniel cordially. Daniel rolls his eyes.

“So you give him an ocean’s worth? You show up at the one person’s place he’d think to check at if he comes looking for you?”

“He won’t,” Armand says, his voice small. He clears his throat, and then it’s normal again. “Look for me, that is.”

That’s all it takes.

Daniel doesn’t throw Armand out. He doesn’t call Louis. This is because, despite his best efforts, every time Daniel looks at Armand, he feels the ghost of an elegant hand on his neck telling him to rest. It’s such a comforting voice, even with the knowledge something sinister is lurking underneath.

Armand needed somewhere to go, and he chose Daniel. 

That fateful morning in 1973 is the most Daniel has ever liked himself. He remembers how special Armand made him feel, fascinating and capable of so much. As terrifying as Armand was, he had given Daniel something that day: irrefutable proof that he wanted to live. Armand has shown Daniel kindness and cruelty, and neither one of those things cancelled out the other.

“Whatever,” Daniel says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his guest bedroom. “Don’t expect me to order a coffin.”

Louis decides to stay in Dubai, Armand decides to stay with Daniel, and Daniel decides to let him. Daniel wishes he could say he doesn’t understand his choice to fraternize with Armand, to live with the guy, but he knows exactly why he does: Armand feels familiar, the memories Daniel and Louis unlocked in Dubai crystal clear now. There are others too, fuzzy, but making their way back to Daniel. They make his chest ache.

The air thrums between the two of them. When Armand leaves for the first time in weeks, Daniel knows it’s to hunt. He stops Armand by grabbing his wrist before he makes it through the front door. 

He cranes his neck. 

It’s the first time Armand feeds from Daniel - the first time from his aged and riddled body, that is. They press together, Armand’s chest to Daniel’s back, one practiced hand cradling Daniel’s head as he offers his neck. Upon a first glance, the embrace might be domestic: Armand offering Daniel a hug from behind. Daniel knows better, though; he can hear the air dancing over Armand’s fangs. When Daniel’s skin is pierced, he jolts forward, not because it hurts (though it does, in a good way, like removing a thorn), but because he regrets letting Armand do this.

The vampire, surely, will notice the lack of elasticity in Daniel’s skin, how the ugliness of age has changed him. Yet Armand does not let Daniel flee, keeping him anchored by pressing his unoccupied palm to Daniel’s chest, and instead of feeling trapped, Daniel feels secure. Kept, even.

When Armand begins to drink from Daniel, they both moan. Armand takes from him reverently, like Daniel is a feast–ambrosia. And then there’s pressure, the solid weight slotting perfectly into the small of Daniel’s back.

Armand is getting off on this. 

Armand’s hand slides from where it rests over Daniel’s heart to his waistband, and when it touches the softness of Daniel’s stomach, he sucks it in instinctively. If Armand notices - and who is Daniel kidding, of course he does - he says nothing about it. Armand simply continues his ministrations, palming Daniel’s hardening cock through his pants. Someone whines, and Daniel has a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t him. 

It’s contradictory, the way Daniel’s body comes to life as Armand is sucking him dry. Daniel hasn’t been this hard in years. His cock springs out of his trousers when Armand yanks them down, and jumps when he grips it. Armand’s fingers are cold but his lips are warm, and the opposing temperatures make Daniel’s head swim. 

Or maybe that’s the blood loss. Daniel digresses. 

Where Aramand’s mouth is greedy, drinking from Daniel like it’s owed to him, his hand is generous. He works Daniel with a startling efficiency, flicking his wrist in such a way that Daniel feels it scalp to tongue, hip to toes. It’s intoxicating. When Armand presses his thumb to the sensitive spot where Daniel’s shaft meets his balls, he comes instantly, spilling onto the apartment floor. Armand chooses this exact moment to pull his teeth out of Daniel, so the relief his body feels is twofold, and Daniel sags against Armand. In turn, Armand contentedly hums, and Daniel decides he doesn’t want to go another day in his life without hearing the sound. Slowly, though with no effort, Armand positions Daniel so they’re facing each other, holding him steady with a strong grip of his hips. Armand is looking at Daniel like they know one another, as if this occurrence has made up for all the lost years between the two of them.

If only it were that easy. 

“Babe,” Daniel didn’t realize that word was on the tip of his tongue, but it’s out there now, and he isn’t going to take it back. “Don’t you want me to…” Daniel doesn’t finish his sentence, because while he’s sure of what he’s offering, the how is still a bit beyond him. Daniel isn’t sure if he wants to return Armand’s favor the same way, use his mouth, or bend the asshole over (though, in truth, he hasn’t caught his breath enough to do any of those things).

Ultimately, Daniel doesn’t have to know, because Armand simply licks his lips, delicately claiming the last drop of blood that sits at the corner of his mouth. His golden eyes are both the most alert Daniel’s seen them and glazed over–satiated and shocked at just how satisfied he is. The top buttons of Armand’s crisp white shirt are undone, and the ones around his middle seem tighter than usual, the telltale sign of someone who has recently gorged themselves.

“I’m quite alright, Mr. Molloy.” Armand tells him. “I’ve found myself full at the moment.”

“What can I expect?” Daniel asks a few weeks into Armand’s unceremonious move-in. They’re laying in bed, it’s around ten in the morning, and Daniel is being introduced to sleepy Armand. He finds Armand’s tiredness-fueled desire to be close, as well as the way his fangs pop out when he yawns, incredibly endearing. This domestic crap is filling Daniel with the instinctual desire to protect. He tightens the arm he has around Armand’s waist. “From, you know, the memories.” Armand raises his head to look at Daniel, a few strands of hair sticking to his face. Daniel tucks them behind Armand’s ear, then rubs at the bone there. Armand practically purrs. 

“I imagine they’ll come back to you as they did in Dubai,” he answers, looking neither sheepish nor regretful, but not proud either. “I could… encourage them, if that’s what you would like.”

“No,” Daniel answers too quickly. Armand stiffens in response, and Daniel sees the impulse to retreat into himself coming from a mile away. Armand begins to untangle their limbs, put some distance between them, but Daniel doesn’t let him. He wrestles Armand back into his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. “I’m not angry. Not really. I just,” Daniel lets out a frustrated sigh at neither and both of them. “No more rooting around in my head, okay sweetheart? Not even to fix what you did before. We won’t start fresh, per se, but we’ll take it day by day.” Daniel hooks his thumb under Armand’s chin, tilting it up so their eyes meet. “Deal?” He asks, tracing the elegant lines of Armand’s cupid’s bow. Armand’s eyes slip closed, and he dips his head to place a kiss to the inside of Daniel’s palm. He settles again.

“Deal.”

When Armand drops to his knees, Daniel thinks he’s seeing things. They haven’t fucked yet - again, technically, even though Daniel doesn’t remember all the times they did, so he’s not even convinced those count - and there’s no preamble. Just Armand watching Daniel walk through the door. Maybe he missed him a little extra.

Even though they sleep together every night, they haven’t done anything since Armand fed from Daniel. Hence Daniel’s surprise and subsequent doubt. Surely the Parkinson’s hasn’t somehow impacted his vision, but the possibility seems more likely than Armand offering himself out of nowhere. Armand waits patiently for Daniel’s reaction. 

“Well?” Daniel finally asks, because he’s not convinced this isn’t some kind of trick, or a 500-year-old vampire’s idea of a joke. Armand tilts his head to the side, looking at the tent forming in Daniel’s pants, then up to him. He seems serious, but then, he always does. Armand is a morose, uptight creature. Daniel is into it.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what to do, Mr. Molloy?” Armand’s response is a question of his own, and Daniel can’t tell if it’s a challenge or a request. In the end, he decides it’s both, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding the fly down so he can take his cock out. He’s hard now, and Armand’s golden eyes widen just a bit, a blink-and-you-miss-it movement. 

But Daniel notices, because he notices Armand. He takes great care to do so, in fact. 

Daniel gives himself a few strokes, just experimental tugs, but the friction of his dry hand doesn’t do him any favors. He holds it out inches from Armand’s face and doesn’t even have to say anything. Armand grabs Daniel’s wrist, licks a wet stripe in his palm. 

“Good,” Daniel praises Armand, arousal pooling low in his belly as he observes the way Armand keens under his approval. Daniel can see the outline of Armand’s cock against his slacks, and he extends his foot, pressing against it. Armand’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his mouth open in a silent moan. “Hey,” he says sharply. Daniel can practically see the excited energy thrumming through Armand at the edge of cruelty in his tone. “Eyes on me.” Daniel could get lost in Armand’s golden eyes. If Armand had granted Daniel his request, turned him in his youth, he doesn’t think he would have missed the sun–not when he had Armand’s eyes to look at.

It doesn’t come naturally to Daniel, this persona. He likes giving Armand something he wants - sometimes even needs - and he won’t lie, it’s intoxicating to have someone as beautiful and dangerous as Armand under his thumb. It’s an ego boost, it’s fun, and Daniel feels so strongly towards Armand that he just wants to provide for him, make him feel good. 

So what the hell. Daniel fakes it till he makes it. And judging by the way the fabric of Armand’s pants strain, he’s not doing half bad. He rubs the head of his dick over Armand’s lips, leaving a drop or two of precome. Armand greedily laps it up. 

“Kiss it,” Daniel commands, and while he feels a bit silly deepening his voice and arching an eyebrow, the hesitation bleeds from his body the second he sees Armand react. Armand slowly blinks, and when his eyes flutter open again, they’re unlike Daniel has ever seen them: soft and lidded at the same time. Armand looks like he’s waiting, eager to be instructed, eager to please. 

So Daniel musters up the bravado, and he says it again. 

“Kiss my dick,” he instructs Armand, who listens. He takes a long breath of air that he does not need, places his hands on Daniel’s hips, leans forward, and presses an open-mouth kiss to Daniel’s leaking head.

“Suck it,” Daniel says, and Armand hollows his cheeks, a lewd and wet noise filling the room. “Lick it—the tip,” so Armand does, he flicks his tongue over Daniel’s slit, and they both tremble. “Touch my balls,” Armand cups them, massages Daniel’s balls in the smooth skin of his palm, and it’s so damn pleasurable that Daniel forgets to be embarrassed about how repulsive they must be to Armand, sagging and old. “That’s it. That’s good,” Daniel praises, and it spurs Armand on. He takes Daniel down his throat without warning, and Daniel groans, his head falling against the wall with a slight thunk.

Armand swallows Daniel down like it’s what he was made to do, his nose buried in coarse, gray curls. He surrounds Daniel with warmth, sensation, and Daniel is content to just close his eyes and enjoy it. However, Armand has other plans, feeling around for one of Daniel's hands, placing it on top of his head. Daniel lets out an incredulous breath of air, not quite a laugh. He takes the hint: Armand wants his mouth fucked harder.

“This not enough for you?” Daniel asks, and Armand looks at him through long, black lashes. He pulls away just enough to talk. 

“Not even close,” Armand retorts, an impish look dancing around his features. Daniel scoffs, tugging Armand’s hair so his neck is craned and exposed. 

“Whatever, kid.” The energy surrounding Armand thickens with both the casualty of Daniel’s statement and the nickname. It’s one that Daniel hasn’t used much, though it seems to do something for both of them. Daniel taps Armand’s jaw with his dick, wet with Armand’s spit. “Open.”

Armand obeys, apparently in the mood to push but not quite prod. Daniel is quick to set a harsher pace, thrusting into Armand’s mouth like it’s not even part of him. Armand bucks his hips in response, pressing his clothed dick harder against Daniel’s heel. Daniel can hear Armand’s broken breaths as he tries to inhale, Daniel’s movements relentless enough that he isn’t able to.

Daniel uses Armand deliciously: Armand’s knees start to crack the floor, his hands hang lamely at his side, and his throat bulges with Daniel’s cock. It’s feeling that bulge with his fingers that brings Daniel over the edge, and he comes without warning, so much that a few drops dribble down Armand’s chin. 

Daniel, honestly, expects Armand to spit - Daniel could see him finding the alternative some version of uncouth - but instead, Armand gazes at Daniel with those features that are so young and suit him so well, and he swallows. Not only that, he opens his mouth, sticks his tongue out so Daniel can see he didn’t leave a single drop. Armand lets out a full body shudder, slumping forward and burying his face in Daniel’s thighs. He presses kisses there, a few bites too. 

The Vampire Armand seems content.

“Mr. Molloy–”

“Jesus Christ, kid, you’ve had my dick in your mouth. Call me Daniel.”

That is that. 

“We were in love?” Daniel asks as Armand washes the dishes. His back is turned–that makes it easier. If they were staring at each other, Daniel might blush. 

“Yes,” Armand tells him plainly. Like he’s accustomed to the notion of loving Daniel. “Impossibly so. It was the happiest I’ve ever been.” Daniel thinks he hears something wistful in Armand’s tone. He would probably go back, if he could. Daniel feels weirdly in competition with himself. He - the non 1970s version - is losing. 

Kind of regretting that he asked, Daniel goes back to his breakfast. Armand has a weird fascination with watching him eat. Daniel can’t exactly blame him: he’s always excited to clean Armand up after his hunts, letting Armand suck the watered down blood from his fingers once they’re done.

“Daniel.” Daniel looks up, and Armand is leaning over the counter, staring him down. “I don’t consider our love part of the past.” He reaches for Daniel’s hand, rubbing the inside of his wrist, right where he likes to sink his fangs in. 

Daniel clears his throat, the proclamation too heavy. He wasn’t expecting this level of honesty from Armand, or the sudden paranoia that he’s second best. Maybe even third, or fourth, because if Dubai taught Daniel anything, it’s that Armand has never gotten over an ex.

“Daniel,” Armand repeats, one of his perfect nails breaking Daniel’s skin, because it’s aged. Daniel looks at their hands, the contrast glaring. He can feel Armand fretting, trying to figure out what to say.

“Get out of my head, Armand.” Daniel tugs his hand away. Armand sighs, walking back to the sink picking up the sponge. He runs the faucet. 

“I wasn’t in it.”

Armand initiates the sex, when they finally have it. He and Daniel are both a bit out of their depth–they’re not used to the act meaning so much, being anything more than an exchange of power or a way to get their rocks off. Daniel is worried Armand has it in his head that if they don’t fuck, Daniel will leave. That’s not the case, but he doesn’t want to say or think it, knowing doing so would only make Armand cagey.

It’s been awhile since Daniel’s had a cock in him - and the other way around - and he’s thrumming with excitement when he and Armand collapse on the bed. Armand wrestles them out of their clothes, and then they both stare, out of breath and a little wild. Daniel’s throat is suddenly dry. He swallows.

“How does this usually go?” He asks, his eyes glued to Armand’s chest. His tits are glorious. Armand has begun kissing up Daniel’s legs, his lips skimming over his ankle and calf before resting over his femoral artery. Daniel shudders, and hopes Armand bites him. 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Armand teases Daniel, nipping at his thigh. Daniel catches Armand by the hair, tugs harder than he means to so their eyes meet. Armand lets out a broken moan at the harshness, and Daniel smirks. 

“How do you want it, sweetheart?” Daniel asks, because he wants Armand to say it. Sue him: Daniel likes it when the 500 year old devil creature has to beg. 

And, oh, he does.

“I want your cock,” Armand tells Daniel unabashedly. “I’ve missed it, Daniel, I want - I need it.” Armand runs his thumbs over the corners of Daniel’s eyes, right where his crow’s feet are. Armand softens, unadulterated affection splayed over his face. “It’s been too long, my love.”

“Alright, alright. Can it,” Daniel says - Armand’s adoration is a bit much, and Daniel doesn’t know what to do with it - but there’s no bite to the words. He presses himself up, maneuvers them so Armand is the one laying, his head cushioned by the pillows. It’s not smooth or graceful, but something tells Daniel that Armand doesn’t mind. “Making an old man do all the work. What does that say about you?”

“That I’ve got a partner who is very,” Armand spreads his legs, and Daniel can’t help as his gaze falls between them. “very capable.”

“Got a lot of faith in me,” Daniel mutters, distracted as he reaches forward to press the pad of his thumb to Armand’s hole. It flutters under the pressure, and Armand whines. Daniel smirks, then starts to reach for the lube in the drawer next to the bed. Armand’s hand flies out, grabbing Daniel by the wrist. 

“No,” Armand says, and Daniel almost tells him to stop digging around in his head before realizing it doesn’t require mind reading to know what he was getting. “I want it dry. Don’t start with your fingers, either. Just…” Armand presses his knees even further apart. “Take me like this.”

“Kid,” Daniel starts, but then he thinks about his aching dick and Armand’s leaking one, and decides to let it go. Armand’s cock twitches at the nickname, and Daniel can’t deny his does the same. He lines himself up, his aged body pennies compared to the riches of Armand’s, and prepares to thrust when-

“Wait,” Armand stops Daniel again just as he’s about to push in, and Daniel listens, searching Armand’s face for signs of what could be wrong. Daniel finds that Armand looks calm–maybe even serene. He reaches up, carefully removing Daniel’s glasses and setting them on the bedside table. “There,” Armand murmurs, his pupils blown out and mouth so, so soft. He takes a deep breath, playing with the sparse hair on Daniel’s chest. “You can keep going, now.”

Daniel is so overcome with emotion he almost laughs at himself: it’s not like this was some grand gesture, but still. He ducks down so he can kiss Armand, and it must take him by surprise, because the vampire gasps into Daniel’s mouth. He quickly melts into the embrace, and Daniel takes that opportunity to slide into Armand in one fluid movement. It catches Armand by surprise, but he bears down, enveloping Daniel in a warmth he didn’t know Armand was capable of. Daniel lets out a groan when he’s fully seated, his forehead pressing against Armand’s and inviting him to wrap his arms around Daniel’s shoulders, locking him in and beckoning him closer.

“Fuck, you feel,” Armand tightens around him, and Daniel’s vision whites out. “I know you,” he finishes in a daze. This is all familiar to him, in the most out-of-body way possible.

“Daniel, beloved,” Armand is looking between their bodies, right where they’re connected. He fidgets, impatient. “Fuck me.”

Daniel has always liked taking orders.

He begins to slide in and out, short and paunchy movements that leave Armand clenching his fists as he demands more. Daniel reaches out to tweak one of Armand’s nipples, and it’s like muscle memory, getting it right the first time and making Armand light up underneath him. Fucking Armand feels cataclysmic, but more than anything it feels inevitable. Daniel realizes he always knew this would happen, from the moment he saw Rashid to when Armand discarded the contacts. The discovery is so big Daniel has to ground himself in his physicality, because he might lose himself if he doesn’t.

When Daniel returns to himself, he decides to commit everything about Armand to a memory so powerful nothing could take it from him. Daniel’s eyes traverse Armand’s body, stopping at his stomach. Armand is lean, his muscles flexing with every breath. And Daniel sees it, the outline of his cock just under Armand’s navel. It disappears each time Daniel pulls out, reappears with every thrust. It makes Daniel nearly come right then, watching Armand’s body contort to make room for him. Daniel lays a hand on Armand’s middle, feeling himself. He curses.

“Unreal,” he groans. “Can’t believe you ever fucking let me forget this.” Armand squirms beneath Daniel, whether from his words or the pressure he applies to his stomach, Daniel’s not sure. He draws out slowly, watching the bulge disappear, reappear. Daniel isn’t sure how many times he does this before he decides it’s enough, Armand probably wants something else. Daniel lets his hand fall away, braces himself on the mattress–

“Put your hand back,” Armand instructs almost instantly. Daniel doesn’t even think, he instinctively follows Armand’s command. The smallest crease in Armand’s brow disappears, and he sighs contentedly as Daniel returns his palm to its place just under Armand’s navel. His eyes slip closed, like he’s relieved. Daniel wonders what Armand likes being touched there so much, and then thinks of animals and what it means for them to expose their stomachs. It’s the most vulnerable act they can do, one of pure trust. 

Without warning, Daniel pulls his hand away and smacks Armand across the face.

It’s a gamble, Daniel knows, but god, it pays off. Armand cries out, looking euphoric, and he clenches so hard that Daniel comes instantly. Neither of them expect the rush of warmth, the amount that Daniel coats Armand’s insides. They stare at each other in shock, Armand’s beautiful cock weeping. Daniel is reaching for it when Armand pulls him into his chest, cradling him.

They stay like that, sweaty and smelling like sex, Daniel still seated inside Armand. Daniel desperately wants to say something - anything that would prompt a response - but some voice in the back of his head tells him not to. 

Armand only lets Daniel go when both of their cocks have softened, the morning light peeking through the windows. 

“I would like to apologize for my behavior,” Armand says seemingly out of the blue one night. They’re on Daniel’s shitty couch, Armand’s head in Daniel’s lap. Daniel has his hand buried in Armand’s perfectly curled hair, stroking his scalp as he reads. Daniel looks down at him. 

“What?” He asks, because he honestly has no idea what Armand is talking about. Sure, he has an ample selection of behaviors to apologize for, but not right now. Right now Armand is docile and pliant, moving only to demonstrate how much he likes Daniel’s touch. 

“You’ve seen me come quite undone,” Armand says very matter-of-factly. He rolls his eyes fondly when he sees Daniel’s quirked eyebrow. “Not like that,” he clarifies, the tiniest of smiles pulling on the corners of his lip. “Angry. Out of control. I,” Armand wrings his hands. “I want you to know more of me than that.”

Daniel can only think of one time he saw Armand truly angry: back in Dubai, when he tore through his and Louis’ home in a stupor, Daniel pressed into the corner like the coward he is. Even then, there had been something majestic about Armand. Daniel remembers that Armand’s shirt had ridden up at some point during the rampage, exposing a sliver of the skin of his hip, and Daniel had wanted to reach out and touch it. 

Daniel tells Armand as much–that he hasn’t gotten angry since the interviews. 

“That was months ago,” Daniel reminds him, digging his thumb into the base of Armand’s skull. It’s not the kindest of touches, so Armand hums, liking it. “Have you had that hanging over your head this whole time?” Armand’s jaw ticks.

“I do not understand what you want,” Armand says, suddenly defensive. He sits up, knocking Daniel’s book to the ground. “You are still angry at me for the interviews, for San Francisco - don’t try to pretend otherwise - and yet you admonish me when I try to fix it.”

“I’m not admonishing you,” Daniel responds, equally on edge. “I–Christ, I thought we moved past this. You said you wouldn’t screw around in my head anymore. I believe you. Done.”

“You don’t believe me, though.” Armand argues. “I don’t need to be in your head to know that, Daniel. It’s obvious.”

Daniel sighs at that, because it’s true. He’s fighting with himself, he really is, because his body - and, as juvenile as it sounds, his heart - are so drawn to Armand he doesn’t know what to do about it. Daniel’s head screams at him not to trust the vampire one bit.

“Listen, I… I’m trying to catch up here. To figure you out the way you’ve had years to do with me.” Daniel rubs his hand over his face. “Armand, I don’t want anything from you that wouldn’t be natural. Honesty, maybe. Actually, yeah. Honesty.” Daniel crosses his arms over his chest, feeling strangely like a disciplinarian. “Stop performing for me, Armand."

Daniel wishes Armand was one to stutter–it would be less creepy than his nonverbal bouts. Armand trains his gaze on something just over Daniel’s shoulder. It makes the hairs on the back of Daniel’s neck stand up. 

“I am not used to someone wanting that from me.” Armand finally says. A truth. Daniel practically falls to his knees in relief.

“Good. That’s good,” Daniel chooses his words carefully, selecting simple ones that Armand won’t be able to ruminate on. Daniel wants Armand to know exactly where he stands with Daniel at all times. No guessing, no games. “By the way: I want that too, Armand. To know you. Because I like whatever this is, but above all else, I want us to be friends.” 

“Friends,” Armand repeats, like he’s never heard the term before. Daniel nods.

“It’s not… it doesn’t have to be just friends: we can be friends who fuck, or companions who are friends, if we ever get there.” Daniel explains. “You know, Armand, the reason my marriages never worked out is because we never liked each other. Love, lust, sure. But I wasn’t friends with my ex-wives.”

“You’re saying,” Armand has retreated to the other side of the couch, and Daniel reaches forward to lay a hand on his thigh. Armand’s body slackens at the touch, comforted. It makes Daniel dizzy with pride. “That your marriages failed because you weren’t friends-”

“Well, I was simplifying-”

“...and that, having made that observation, you want to be friends with me?” Armand finishes. He’s looking at Daniel evenly, but Daniel can see how hard it is for Armand to do so, that he’s trying to keep something stamped down. Daniel can see that thing crawling up Armand’s throat, threatening to overtake his eyes.

Hope.

“Yes.” Daniel answers before he thinks any better of it.

Armand becomes eerily still as he processes, and then all at once he’s surging forward, his lips finding Daniel’s, the contours of his perfect body slotting into Daniel’s tired one. They tug at each other, fighting to be closer, fighting to be the one that gets them there. Armand throws a knee over Daniel, straddling him, and presses his clothed erection to Daniel’s with one deliciously timed roll of his hips.

“Daniel,” Armand pants, burying his face in the crook of Daniel’s neck. “No one has ever,” he swallows. “I need you inside me,” Armand says instead of finishing his sentence, because that’s easier. More safe. “Please, Daniel,” Armand begins to rut against him. “Oh, Daniel, please…”

Daniel knows what Armand is asking for, and he reaches up, tugging the collar of his shirt to the side. Exhilaration runs through him as Armand’s fangs pop out, ghosting over his skin before plunging in. 

Daniel lets himself be devoured. 

The pain thing - or the extent to which Armand wants it - is new to Daniel, but he thinks he rises to the occasion. It starts outside the bedroom when Daniel puts a cigarette out on Armand’s collarbone, the noise he makes in response sinful. Then there was the time when Daniel’s fingers pressed into Armand’s closed eyelids while stroking his browbone as he slept (Parkinson’s tremors), prompting Armand to wake up and beg Daniel to come on his face. Daniel can tell these instances were only scratching the surface, hairline fractures on the window pane that Daniel looks through to see what Armand was so used to he felt lost without it.

Sometimes, Armand becomes a different version of himself, and this is when he craves pain the most. Daniel isn’t quite sure how to describe it. It’s like Armand blurs, fuzzy the way he is in the morning before Daniel has had a chance to put his glasses on. Armand is quiet, his accent stronger when he manages a few words, and he almost clings to Daniel, afraid he’ll leave. 

It doesn’t happen often, which means it takes Daniel longer than he would like to figure out what to do in these moments. Slowly, though, he gets there: tonight, Daniel kisses Armand’s forehead, takes him to bed and strips him naked. Daniel takes off his jeans, not wanting the fabric to overwhelm Armand’s soft skin., but leaves his shirt and boxers on, knowing the contrast of Armand’s nudity and Daniel’s clothed self will ground the vampire. After all, Armand feels less vulnerable without clothes than with, because if he’s naked, then he knows he’s being useful—or at the very least, used. 

But Daniel doesn’t use Armand the way he wants to be tonight. It sets him apart from Armand’s former flames, the ones who struck and laughed at him under the guise of fulfilling his desires. Daniel walks the line with the pain he doles, carefully looking for clues as to what Armand likes versus what he has convinced himself he has. 

Tonight, holding Armand’s shivering, naked body is enough for them both. 

Daniel doesn’t even remember what he’s said this time, whether it’s about his skin, his hair, his softened body. All he knows is that it ends with the implication that Armand - who is ethereal in nature, whose ex lovers are almost as captivating as he is - couldn’t find Daniel appealing, especially after so many years spent with Daniel’s cooler, hotter, younger self. Daniel doesn’t say it to be refuted. He mentions it because it’s a fact. 

Whatever the statement, it makes Armand slow, his movements suddenly stiff. He turns his head towards Daniel, face blank. It’s uncanny, reminding Daniel that he and Armand are not the same. Armand is a predator. Armand is, despite his charm, his talents, and nature that (yes, Daniel has finally admitted it) Daniel finds equal parts obnoxious and endearing, a monster. 

“You think,” Armand says, taking a step towards Daniel. Daniel mirrors the action, the back of his knees hitting his bed. “That I don’t find you attractive?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Daniel pretends to ponder, which further agitates Armand, but he doesn’t stop. “I’m wrinkled, I have a gut that isn’t going anywhere, and I’m diseased. I’m old, Armand. And not in the way you are.” Daniel shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me. Trust me, I’m well aware that you can be attracted to someone without thinking they’re attractive. That’s enough for me.” Armand slowly blinks, his mouth open and slightly ajar in something that might actually be shock. 

“Get on the bed, Daniel,” Armand isn’t asking or commanding–it’s more like he’s making a statement. He still looks and sounds distant, like he’s far away, working to comprehend what Daniel has confessed. Daniel blinks. 

“You really think I’m just going to-”

“The bed. Lay down,” it is a directive now, and Daniel isn’t sure how he feels about it. Armand picks up on this, and softens. “Sweet boy,” he adds, which absolutely has its intended effect, because Daniel does exactly what Armand wants. He lays down on his back, feet dangling over the edge of the bed. Armand takes the opportunity to peel Daniel’s socks off, then slide his hands over Daniel’s calves, thighs, hips. They slip under Daniel’s shirt, resting on his waist. Armand meets Daniel’s eyes. “Arms up,” he murmurs, sickly sweet in a way that Daniel would think is uncharacteristic, but seems familiar. 

Is this actually happening? Daniel thinks to himself as he lets Armand take his shirt off and toss it to the side. Armand is peppering kisses down Daniel’s sternum, scraping his teeth over Daniel’s nipple to earn a hiss. Eventually, he turns his attention to Daniel’s stomach - sick to death of how it’s the source of many of Daniel’s self-deprecating comments, probably - and drags his mouth over the expanse of skin, leaving no inch untouched. Armand nuzzles the curls that lead into Daniel’s waistband, dips his tongue in Daniel’s navel, and Daniel must admit: he looks pleased to be doing it. Armand seems unburdened in a way Daniel has never observed, not just content in his actions, but avid. Something deep in Daniel’s chest warms. He likes the feeling.

Expertly, Armand works Daniel’s fly open, stripping Daniel bare. Once he has done so, Armand leans back, looking hungrily. Daniel feels uncomfortably exposed, but he can’t say he dislikes it, especially not with his cock leaking at the tip and so hard it stands straight up. 

“Beautiful,” Armand says, and still, Daniel scoffs. Armand piques an eyebrow. “You don’t believe me?” He asks, leaning over Daniel, cupping his jaw. He works at the tension there with his thumb, and Daniel can’t help but relax. 

Armand kisses Daniel then, and it feels different than the other times he has done so. There’s lust in the embrace, hunger too, but there’s so much more to it. Armand is kissing Daniel is the way Daniel kissed Alice after the birth of their daughter: with reverence, admiration… love. Daniel doesn’t trust it, but he drinks it in all the same, slipping his tongue in Armand’s mouth and savoring the taste. Armand moans in response, grinding on Daniel and making it impossible to deny he’s enjoying himself as much as Daniel is. 

“By the end of the night,” Armand says, breaking the kiss to roll his clothed erection against Daniel’s hip, making both men quake. “I will have convinced you just how beautiful you are. I find you resplendent, Daniel. Now more than ever.” Armand gives Daniel that look again, the one that makes Daniel’s heart beat so hard it might just stop. Armand looks at Daniel like he’s exactly what he’s been searching for. He kneels between Daniel’s knees like it’s an act of worship. “To see you like this is a privilege,” Armand muses. “Nothing less. You fascinate me, mind and body, more and more each time I see you. Let me see you, Daniel.” 

Armand is prodding at Daniel’s thighs, pushing them further apart, and then he gets a glint in his eye. Before Daniel knows it, Armand has flipped him over, his chest pressed on the mattress and hips in the air. The suddenness knocks the air out of Daniel’s lungs, but he holds in the impending coughs, not wanting to worry Armand, or put a stop to what he has planned.

Armand notices, though. He seems to notice everything when it comes to Daniel.

“Sweet boy,” Armand nips at the junction of Daniel’s ass and thigh, and he grunts. “Can you breathe?”

“I- Yes.” Daniel says, not quite a lie. “Just need to catch my breath.” 

“Stubborn,” Daniel can’t tell if Armand is chastising or teasing him. He slows, granting Daniel the time he needs, tracing the lines of Daniel’s hamstrings in the meantime. Daniel breathes as quietly as he can, once, twice, and by the third time, his body has regulated. Daniel doesn’t even need to tell Armand, though, the other man is impressively attuned to him. Armand resumes with ease, touching, stroking, petting every part of Daniel. 

“I know you, Daniel. I know what you like. I know what you need.” Armand is pulling apart Daniel’s cheeks, his breath hitting Daniel’s hole. Daniel’s head spins. “Let me show you,” Armand’s voice is so quiet, nearly timid. He’s begging. “May I, Daniel? Do you want this?” Armand presses a kiss to the globe of Daniel’s ass. 

“You’re killing me, Armand.” Daniel grits, letting his forehead fall against the sheets. “Fuck, just - obviously I want it. It’s you.”

There’s a huff of breath from behind him, and Daniel knows Armand is smiling. He doesn’t have any time to see it, though, because Armand spares no time after Daniel says yes. He presses the flat of his tongue to Daniel’s balls and licks, circling Daniel’s hole once he gets there. Daniel makes some throaty sound he hasn’t made in years as Armand briefly uses his fingers to open Daniel up, priming him for Armand’s tongue. Armand reaches spots inside him that Daniel didn’t even know existed, his tongue spearing, stroking, paying endless attention. Armand is an attentive lover, leaving no part of Daniel untouched, and it only takes a few tugs of Daniel’s cock before he comes on the sheets, riding Armand’s face. 

Daniel has just enough brainpower to make sure he doesn’t collapse on the mess he’s made, instead turning over to lie on his back in a cleaner patch of the bed. Armand, still clothed, pauses to strip, joining Daniel once he has. Armand nuzzles his nose in Daniel’s collarbone, and Daniel wraps an arm around his shoulders. He blinks, staring at the ceiling. 

“It’s always like this,” Daniel says in a haze. “You end up eating me.” He’s not talking about the sex, or even blood. Armand consumes him. Daniel thinks he does the same in return. Armand is quiet for a moment, tracing nonsensical shapes into Daniel’s sternum. 

“Yes, Daniel.” He finally responds. After that, he doesn’t say a word.

“Is there a reason,” Daniel asks one morning, right when Armand is preparing to sleep. “That you never finish when we fuck?” Armand blinks, bedsheets in hand. He recovers quickly, laying next to Daniel but pointedly not looking at him.

“I didn’t realize you noticed.”

“You didn’t realize I picked up on the fact you haven’t come in the past what, five months? While we’re fucking at least three times a week? Come on, Armand.” Daniel deadpans. Armand turns to his side, his back facing Daniel. 

“It’s a preference.”

“Is it?” Daniel questions Armand. “Because if so, that’s fine, but–"

“I don’t see why it would be a bother.” Armand tightens the covers around himself. “It’s less effort for you.”

“Less effort? Armand.” Daniel reaches forward, places a hand on Armand’s shoulder. “Does it occur to you that I want to make you feel good?” Daniel feels like an idiot, trying to explain to that he wants to make someone who, in many ways, is a fuck buddy, finish. It seems self-explanatory, but apparently not. “I don’t want anything to be one-sided here.” He sighs. “I know I’m not doing the whole maître thing, but I thought we found something that works.”

“So had I, until you started complaining.” Armand snipes. Daniel draws his hand away. 

“I’m not complain- Alright, Armand. Sweetheart. Forget it,” Daniel starts to stand up, not wanting to push. Besides, he has work to do, and it would be nice to get started before noon. Armand doesn’t say anything, so Daniel leaves, trying to keep his thoughts quiet.

It’s the strangest thing. Before shutting the bedroom door, Daniel feels the urge to say I love you.

~

“Just because I don’t come doesn’t mean the sex is bad,” Armand says two days later at dinner. 

“Oh, we’re talking about this now.” Daniel sets his fork down. Armand glares. “Got it.”

“You said you want to make me feel good,” Armand ignores Daniel’s comment. “The mere fact I don’t come does not mean I do not enjoy myself.”

“Alright, fair point.” Daniel takes his glasses off, pinches the bridge of his nose. Armand takes the glasses and begins to clean them. “But surely you see where I’m coming from. I mean, Christ, kid. Most people want their partners to finish. Especially when there’s feelings mixed up in whatever they’re doing.” Armand is silent, and suddenly, it dawns on Daniel. “Armand. Don’t tell me Louis didn’t get you off.”

“Louis and I had a very specific arrangement.” Armand responds, looking away.

“Are you telling me,” Daniel’s hands shake. “That Louis never made you come? That it’s been seventy-something years since you’ve had an orgasm?”

“Of course not,” Armand looks at Daniel like his suggestion is outlandish. “You and I were together for twelve years, just over fifty ago.” Daniel blinks.

“You - We-” Daniel can’t even wrap his head around the casualty with which Armand says all of this. “Do you think dropping something like that into conversation is normal?” Armand opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Armand settles on. Daniel grips the counter. 

“Something. Anything. You say this is all a preference–is that in general, or just with Louis? Is it your preference with me?”

“No,” Armand admits quietly. 

“Okay.” Daniel sighs. “We’ll start there.”

Armand’s first time smiling without hiding it - behind a scoff, pressed into Daniel’s skin, muted by a turn of the head - is the closest Daniel has felt to Armand since he came to stay with him. Armand is so brilliant and expressive when he allows himself to be. Daniel has a well of affection, attraction, and respect for Louis, but when he sees Armand smile, he can’t imagine how Louis could have given it up, not for anything in the world. The quirk of Armand’s lips is something Daniel wants to grip in his palm, to swallow and keep safe in his stomach. It makes Daniel see the two of them all at once, all at different points of time: at dinner with Armand, having finally ordered a wine to his taste, in a dingy room in the Bay Area, looking to Armand as the high kicks in, on his old mattress he pulled from a dumpster, glancing over his shoulder as Armand grants his request and doesn’t pull out. The blissed out gaze they share before looking at the belt in Daniel’s hands, Armand’s thighs red and welting. 

So many memories hit Daniel that he stumbles, lightheaded and unsure of where he is. It’s 1973, it’s 1984, it’s 2022, and Armand is with him each year. The desire for and kinship Daniel shares with Armand is so powerful, and yet it feels like it comes from nowhere,

“My sweet boy,” Armand has gathered Daniel in his arms, whisked him away to their shared bed. “I know it isn’t easy. You can’t fight it, Daniel, you have to let them come back to you.” 

If the memories were more than snapshots, more than heightened emotions and the sensation of hundreds of flavors of crashouts, Daniel is pretty sure he could handle it. But they aren’t, so there’s nothing to ease what Daniel is experiencing, just over a decade’s worth of love and hate and affection that is overwhelming in the worst of ways. 

“You left me,” Daniel accuses. “You took us with you.” Armand looks sick, guilt splayed over his features. They quiver against each other, small. 

“I won’t ask you to forgive me,” Armand says.

“The only way I will is if you don’t do it again,” Daniel responds. Armand levels a look at him.

“My love,” he says, voice wavering. “I don’t deserve-”

“Can it with that shit,” Daniel doesn’t even try to keep the anger out of his… everything. Voice, expression, body language. Armand needs to know. Armand needs to stay or leave, because Daniel can’t go through this again. “I don’t care about what you think you deserve–take what you want. Especially when I’m offering.” Armand makes a little gasp, like he’s never considered putting his self-loathing aside in favor of his love’s desires. “And fuck you, Armand. This hurts.” Daniel’s head pounds, and his heart is throbbing, and it’s too much. His gut is all out of whack too, telling him not to get his hopes up, that Armand has always left him, so there’s no reason to believe anything will be different this time around. 

“I can take your mind off it,” Armand swears, his hand cupping Daniel’s cock. It didn’t even occur to Daniel to ask for that, or think of it. He wants to berate Armand, tell him now isn’t the time, but this is all Armand has ever known and the best way he can communicate–Daniel can’t be angry with him for that on top of everything else. 

He lets Armand pleasure him, lick his come from his fingers, press his lips to Daniel’s right after the fact so he tastes himself. Daniel asks if he can return the favor, and Armand just shakes his head no, but Daniel can tell it takes effort. Armand’s self-inflicted punishment is coming to an end, or so it seems. 

Still, they wait.

The club Daniel takes Armand to is, admittedly, one he picked specifically to test his limits. 

Daniel knows Armand is no stranger to grime, and he’s not exactly a prude either. But still. It’s strange to see Armand, so crisp and polished, in a crowd of such unadulterated human expression. This club is rundown but packed to brim, filthy but charming. Armand sticks out, or maybe demands attention. Daniel isn’t sure, and his eyes are glued to him either way. 

Armand takes it all in stride. He even cozies up to Daniel, in a way, keeping his hand on the small of Daniel’s back as he orders a drink. Daniel sips on his gin and tonic (he’s too old to get wasted in public) and watches Armand observe the crowd.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Daniel shouts, setting his empty glass on the bar. 

Lead the way, Armand says in Daniel’s head. He lets it pass: it’s loud in here. The bass rattles his skull as much as Armand’s vampire telepathy does. Daniel almost takes Armand’s hand, but something about that feels too intimate. He settles for shoving his way through the mass of bodies, glancing every so often to make sure Armand is still there. He is, the ghost of a smile on his lips by Daniel’s third look back. 

There’s no space at the railing that overlooks the dance floor, so Daniel takes Armand to one of the fixtures a few feet away. There’s space to lean, if one of them wants, and while it’s not private by any means, it’s at least far enough away from the speakers that Daniel doesn’t feel like his head is going to explode. 

Are you enjoying yourself, Daniel? Armand asks, peering at him. 

“Enough of that,” Daniel half yells, waving his hand. Armand gives him a fond look.

“Rest,” he says, reaching up to run his fingers along the column of Daniel’s throat. The word is a loaded one when it’s spoken by Armand, but there’s no compulsion or force behind it; Daniel is left with his free will. “Don’t strain yourself. I can hear you just fine, beloved.” Beloved. The name is painfully affectionate. Daniel wonders who else Armand has used it on.

“I’m not having a bad time,” Daniel speaks with the same volume he does anywhere else. He wonders how Armand’s vampiric senses allow him to hear Daniel with no issue: do they drown out the crowd? Make Daniel louder? So much of Armand’s existence is foreign to Daniel. “I take it we used to do this kind of thing a lot?” 

“Not infrequently,” Armand must be doing something to his voice, because Daniel can hear him just fine. “We were more inclined towards bars,” Armand’s tongue traces the tips of his teeth. “It was never of much consequence. Each night ended the same way.”

“Oh?” Daniel asks, taking a step closer. His hands find Armand’s hips. “And how was that?” Armand’s eyes flash. 

“Taking,” he answers the way anyone else would say fucking. “Both of us, from each other.” Daniel rolls his eyes.

“Right,” he says. “Tell me, Armand, because this is something I haven’t quite been able to work out: what could I have that’s worth anything to a vampire? Especially back then.”

“Daniel,” Armand is almost chiding him. “You know what. You heard Louis say it on those tapes,” Armand slides his hands up Daniel’s sides, resting them on his chest. “You have always been fascinating. It is a constant in my life–in that of anyone who has the privilege of being around you.” Daniel shakes his head, looking down.

“Flatterer,” Daniel says. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were-”

“What, Daniel?” Armand’s eyes glint, traversing the patch of skin left bare by the collar of Daniel’s shirt. 

“Asking me for something.” Armand regards Daniel coolly, but something vulnerable flickers across his face.

“I always want something.” Armand says, and he sounds so forlorn that Daniel’s heart aches. As soon as he says it, though, Armand does away with it, whatever moment of weakness he allowed himself to have. It’s eerie, how soon the look in Armand’s eyes goes from melancholic to hungry. Armand stares at Daniel’s neck, like he’s waiting for it to be offered. 

“If you’re thirsty,” Daniel presses his thumb into the bone of Armand’s hip, hoping to leave a bruise. Armand lets out a small sigh of pleasure. “You could have ordered something at the bar.”

“I wasn’t interested,” Armand ducks his head, lets it lean on Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel’s fingers dip under the waistband of Armand’s trousers, then his boxers, finding bare skin. Happy hands–Daniel’s always had them. He doesn’t do anything too crazy, just lets his nails scratch hard enough to draw blood on a human. Armand paws at Daniel’s side, wanting to touch, but still figuring out how he wants to do so.

“No?” Daniel goads, knowing fully well what Armand is craving–what he needs. 

“Not in anything this place has to offer,” Armand begins rocking, so slight it’s almost more of a sway, against Daniel. The act is nothing compared to everything happening around them, but the fact Armand is so outwardly attentive to Daniel in public is doing something to him. His jeans start to feel tighter. “I have a refined palette.” 

“Sure you do.” Daniel can’t keep the amusement out of his voice. He smiles. “Tell me what you want, babe,” Daniel croons, having fun with it. “I can do just about anything to you. I doubt anyone will notice, but if they do, they’ll just see how hot and bothered you get when an old man touches you.” Armand’s breath stalls, and Daniel smirks. “You like the idea of that, Armand? Of everyone seeing you get fucked by me, and enjoying it?”

“Daniel,” Armand’s tone is biting, but his body betrays him: he’s hard, pants straining over his dick, and he’s pulling Daniel closer. The music is blaring, and everyone is off in their own world, entranced by their own partners. Time feels like it slows, and for a moment, Daniel thinks Armand is using his powers. He trusts that he isn’t, though, and Daniel is surprised at himself, the way he isn’t assuming the worst of Armand. “You’re not going to fuck me here.” 

“Is there an ‘but’ coming?” Daniel walks the line between teasing and mockery. Armand writhes.

“But,” Armand says the word like it pains him to do so. “I want it inside.” Daniel feels his dick twitch, not only excited by the idea of getting his fingers in Armand’s ass, but also by Armand being forward with what he wants. 

In response, Daniel can’t help but kiss Armand, crowding him against the glorified pole they’ve been stationed at. He presses every inch of their bodies together, licks into Armand’s mouth, and Armand lets out a sigh that borders on relief. 

Daniel eases back just enough to let his hands roam over Armand’s body again. He flicks a nipple over Armand’s shirt, smirks when he gets a hiss in response. Daniel enjoys slipping his hand into Armand’s underwear, feeling the hardness of his arousal and the velvety softness of his skin. When Daniel gives Armand’s cock a squeeze, his hips buck in response.

“That’s okay. That’s alright,” Daniel says, massaging Armand’s balls in his palm. “Let yourself feel good,” Daniel watches as Armand begins to relax. Daniel takes the opportunity to circle Armand’s hole with a finger, pressing ever so slightly against the rim. He slips a knee between Armand’s thighs, forcing him to open up and making them feel any closer. Daniel can’t get close enough to Armand–even when the vampire is sucking him dry and has Daniel’s blood running through his veins, they don’t feel close enough. 

As Daniel ghosts his finger over Armand’s hole, he angles his neck. Armand eyes the vein that’s protruding, glancing back and forth between it and Daniel. He waits for permission. Daniel nods, and right as Armand sinks his fangs in, Daniel enters him with two fingers. 

Armand lets out a small cry against Daniel’s skin, not yet expecting the intrusion, the pleasure from it and the way Daniel tastes overwhelming him. He bears down on Daniel’s fingers, beckoning him deeper, all the while feeding. Armand is greedy tonight, and Daniel’s vision begins to blur, but he doesn’t let that distract him. He finds the spot in Armand that makes his whole body quake, a small ah exhaled against Daniel’s collarbone.

“You’re incredible,” Daniel feels Armand’s teeth leave him. Armand gives Daniel kitten licks around the puncture wound. Daniel feels just the tiniest twinge of disappointment: he wouldn’t mind walking around wearing something Armand gave him. “The way you feel, the way you look-”

“Stop,” Armand interrupts him. “You don’t have to,” he pauses, trying to find the right words while he’s being split open. He doesn’t, so he repeats himself, the statement enough. “You don’t have to, Daniel.”

“I don’t have to do any of this. I’m doing it because I want to,” Daniel’s voice deepens as he spells it out. “And right now, I want you to know that you make being fingered in a bar look like a renaissance painting.” Armand’s body locks up. For a moment, Daniel wonders what the issue is, and then he remembers the interview: the Louvre, the painting, Amadeo, Arun. Both he and Armand are still, and dread creeps its way over Daniel, makes his fingertips thrum. I fucked up, Daniel thinks, and hopes Armand doesn’t hear him. 

But then Armand speaks.

“Say it again.” Armand looks almost pained, but he begins rolling his hips faster, urging Daniel to follow his lead. Daniel hesitates, and Armand bites him, growing desperate. “Again.” 

“You,” the words are on the tip of Daniel’s tongue, but he can’t seem to get them out. “You look like,” Daniel keeps cutting himself off, unable to bring himself to give Armand anything even remotely similar to the so-called praise his maker did all those centuries ago.

“Daniel,” Armand pants. “Please.” 

It breaks Daniel. He can’t say no to that - to Armand, begging - so he obliges, adding a third finger and relishing the way Armand’s brow creases. Daniel turns his face, murmuring endearments. His lips brush the shell of Armand’s ear as he does, and it’s strangely cold compared to the rest of him. Daniel isn't even sure what he’s saying–just half formed thoughts about how Armand is familiar, their dynamic one he knows in his bones. How Daniel doesn’t want to leave Armand, even if he wishes he did. 

“Daniel,” Armand sounds frantic, his nails scratching at Daniel’s shoulders, ripping the fabric of his shirt. “I,” he lets out a broken moan, like he’s overwhelmed. His eyes are the widest Daniel has ever seen them.“I’m going to- to-” Daniel can feel Armand tighten around his fingers, his balls drawing up near Daniel’s wrist, and Daniel knows Armand is about to come. He doesn’t tell Daniel to stop, or seem to be talking himself from the ledge. If anything it’s the opposite: Armand keeps rolling his hips, his brow knit and lips parting just as he begins to-

Daniel pulls his hand away, and Armand falls forward. His head snaps up as he looks at Daniel in betrayal, chest rising unevenly as he tries to catch his breath. Daniel knows a storm is brewing, he sees it from a mile away. Daniel tries to cup Armand’s face, but he’s avoiding the touch, fixing his pants and making a beeline for the exit. 

“Armand,” Daniel follows him, slowed by the crowd, but still never letting Armand out of his sight. “Armand.” They make it outside, and Armand storms down the block before rounding a corner. Daniel joins him in the alley, gearing up for a fight he doesn’t want to have. “Hey, if you could let me explain-”

“I don’t need to be made a fool of.” Armand seethes. Daniel blinks. If he were mean the way Louis and Lestat could be, he would respond that yes, that’s actually exactly what Armand needs, what he always seems to be asking for. 

“Sweetheart,” Daniel begins, and Armand looks away, the nickname too heartfelt for him. “I didn’t do that to make you feel small.”

“Then why? What purpose does bringing me to the edge like that serve– was it just to prove to yourself that you can? To let me know, not in so many words, that I am a fool for believing you when you told me this was something you wanted to do for me? Me.”Armand lets out a scoff that sounds so close to sob it makes Daniel’s stomach twist. He sounds so broken, jagged around all his edges. 

“No, Armand. None of that,” Daniel takes a step forward, relieved when Armand doesn’t immediately put more distance between them. “If I try to explain, will you listen to me?” Armand says nothing, but he also doesn’t leave, so Daniel takes his silence as a yes. “Armand, I - god, I feel like a teenager, saying this over and over - I do want you to come. With me, ideally. But not like that. Not yet, at least.” If he and Armand weren’t in this weird sexual limbo, he absolutely would have finished him off in the club. Daniel doesn’t have much shame anymore. Never did. “I just… is that how you wanted it to happen - with me - for the first time in years? I could barely even see you. And besides, you seemed…” Daniel trails off, and Armand fumes.

“What.”

“Scared.” Daniel finishes. “You seemed scared, Armand. Not in a catastrophic way. Not like you were unsafe. But like you were going to blow your load and have a crisis about it later.”

Armand doesn’t say anything, he just stares, dumbfounded. Daniel wonders - not for the first time - what his and Louis’ day-to-day life was like, how their relationship functioned once they left Paris. Armand treats Daniel like he’s the only one who’s ever called him on his bullshit. Daniel can’t quite comprehend it. 

“Nothing to say? Fine,” Daniel grinds a piece of rubble under his heel. “Just so you know, it’s not all about you, Armand. Maybe I didn’t want it to be like that. I mean, who wants the first time to be in any way related to-”

“That would not have been our first time-”

“But it would be for me!” Daniel raises his voice. “Something in me recognizes you, Armand. And sure, there are flashes of you - us - in here.” Daniel taps his temple. “But that’s it. They’re just feelings. Our past,” it feels strange to use language that implies anything joint between the two of them, but Daniel doesn’t know how else to phrase it. “...it’s not the same for us. ‘Daniel and Armand’ means something different to you than it does me. I don’t know why you can’t understand that.” Daniel lets his frustration seep through, accusing. 

At first, Armand says nothing, letting the air hang heavy. Then he closes the gap, always, always, always staring at Daniel with those eyes of his. Like a deer in the headlights, and Daniel isn’t sure which of them is the animal.

“You have always been such a sentimental little thing,” Armand murmurs. He reaches out, laying his knuckles on Daniel’s jaw, stroking. His nails give Daniel little hairline cuts that will sting the next time he shaves. Daniel doesn’t care. 

“I have a couple of ex wives who would tell a very different story,” Daniel responds dryly, because isn’t that just it. Memory, the past. It’s not the same for anyone, and look what it does. Daniel’s hands shake, and he wonders if he’s just imagining being able to smell Armand on his fingers.

“Daniel,” Armand chides, suddenly sounding very, very tired. Daniel sighs, letting himself be held. “Let’s go home.”

Home. Armand says it like it’s a shared thing.

Armand changes his mind - without any preamble - not too long later.

“Daniel,” he pants as Daniel takes him in the shower. He’s bent at the waist, hands braced on the tiles. Daniel licks Armand’s spine, because he swears the water that’s touched Armand’s skin tastes sweet. “I’m ready. I want you to decide when. For me, maî- my love.” Daniel’s heart skips a beat, and he doesn’t even comment on the correction.

“Sure,” is all Daniel says in acknowledgment. He rewards Armand with a particularly harsh thrust, and they both moan, staying in the shower long after the water has run cold. 

Daniel waits almost a month.

He can tell Armand, glutton for punishment and anticipation and dread, is relishing in it. Every time they have sex, he’s a little more wild, vying for something he knows he’ll get, even if he’s not sure when. Daniel likes holding it over Armand’s head, crooning and mocking him all at once. When he finally decides it’s time, Daniel doesn’t give Armand any space to second guess his intentions.

“Hey,” Daniel says, approaching Armand from behind. Armand is sitting on the couch, and Daniel bends over to lay an arm across his chest, then drags a trail of warm, lazy kisses over the line of Armand’s throat. He sighs in response, craning his neck to give Daniel better access. Daniel chuckles against his skin. “Come to bed, Armand.”

Armand turns to look at Daniel, his gaze so serious that Daniel feels a tremor. In seconds, Daniel finds the two of them in their bedroom, knees knocking the edge of the bed. He feels nauseous, just like he always does when a vampire uses their speed and takes him along for the ride. He lets out a cough, and Armand winces.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, laying his palm on Daniel’s shoulder to steady him. Daniel presses a hand into his stomach, willing it to settle. 

“It’s fine,” he says, leaning into Armand’s touch, letting him support his weight. “Eager, aren’t you?” Daniel jokes.

“Always.” Armand answers, saying it almost like a promise. Daniel exhales sharply, almost a laugh. He kisses Armand so he doesn’t have to respond, pressing their lips together and pulling at Armand’s shirt. Armand eagerly takes it off, tossing it to the side so his deft fingers can work at his belt. He steps out of his pants, half hard and leaking. There’s a wet spot forming on his boxers, and Daniel falls to his knees to mouth at it. Armand lets out a moan, his fingers tangling in Daniel’s hair. “Daniel,” he says, letting out a small hah when Daniel scrapes his teeth over the head of his clothed dick. “Stop. Your knees…” Armand’s body is telling a different story than his mouth, hips bucking into Daniel’s face, fingers gripping his scalp. Daniel untangles himself, obliges, returning to his feet.

“Lay down?” Daniel means to be more commanding, but it comes out softly, too touched by Armand’s concern about his aching bones to do anything but give Armand options. Armand obliges, situating himself on their bed while Daniel strips. He’s hard, his cock slapping against his stomach, and Armand cups himself as he watches Daniel crawl over him, eager. Daniel taps his hip. “Up,” he says, and Armand listens, lifting his hips so Daniel can rid him of the final scrap of clothing. Daniel leans back, drinking in the sight of Armand: his reddened cock, slightly mussed hair, plush lips. He’s overwhelmed with a feeling of deja vu, and the affection he’s come to feel for Armand, but also something more distant–love wrapped up in fear. Daniel flinches, and Armand frowns.

“What is it, beloved?” He asks, pushing himself to his elbows and cupping Daniel’s cheek. Daniel hesitates before placing his hand over Armand’s. 

“Nothing,” he lies, then presses a kiss to the inside of Armand’s wrist–right where he would drink from him if he could. Armand watches, disbelieving, and so Daniel places a palm in the center of his chest and pushes so Armand is laying down again. 

With this, Daniel begins to take his time, dragging his lips over every bit of flawless skin he can find. Armand has a mole near his left armpit, another on his right hip, and Daniel kisses them both. Armand lets out a breathy laugh above him, lightly tugging on Daniel’s white curls to pull him up for a kiss.

“I told you,” Armand whispers after Daniel presses their lips together, looking at Daniel like he’s all that matters, his first choice of any human or vampire. “Sentimental.”

Daniel doesn’t even think to deny it. 

Daniel gives Armand a final peck before turning his attention to his cock. Armand is fully hard now, standing straight up, and it’s easy for Daniel to swallow him down to the hilt in one go. Armand lets out a broken moan from above him, his knees falling open, and Daniel takes the opportunity to press the pad of his thumb against Armand’s hole, teasing. Armand lets out a whine. Daniel’s eyes flit up, and all he sees is Armand’s chin, his head pressed into the pillows. Daniel pulls off.

“We’re switching,” he tells a breathless Armand. Armand, dazed, lets Daniel swap places with him. Once Daniel has laid down, he tugs Armand so he’s straddling the older man, knees on either side of his hips. Daniel gazes up at him, backlit by the bedroom light. At first, he’s overtaken by Armand’s beauty, but then he feels himself recoiling, the lighting too similar to the first flashes of memory Louis awoke of San Francisco. Daniel swallows, his mouth dry.

Armand sinking down on his cock snaps him out of it. 

They moan in tandem, and Daniel is pleased when Armand steadies himself by splaying his hands on Daniel’s chest. Armand stills for just a moment, looking intently at the point of contact, and then he begins tapping his fingers. It takes Daniel a moment to realize he’s synced the movement with Daniel’s heartbeat. It makes him lightheaded.

“C’mon, kid,” he goads. “You got me. Take what you need.” 

Daniel has reasons, two namely, for choosing this position: he’s old, first, and he’s tired. He hadn’t planned this, didn’t know it was where his night was headed–maybe if he had, he would have chugged a five hour energy, or one of those celsius drinks his grandkids are always buying. Second, he likes Armand perched above him. Daniel knows what Armand wants, that he needs to be ravaged–but Daniel wants everything to be on his terms, too. Like this, Armand can set the pace. 

And he does, rolling his hips slowly at first before reaching a tempo that isn’t too slow to be sappy or fast to be rushed. Daniel grips the sides of Armand’s thighs as hard as he can without shaking, and Armand moans. He clenches around Daniel, so practiced it’s obvious he’s done it before, smirking when it causes Daniel to drive upwards, further, further, further into Armand. He can’t describe it, but the smirk does something to Daniel. It’s not anger that it conjures, not quite, but it’s something aggrieved. Ugly. 

“It’s not fair, you know,” Armand registers Daniel’s words before he even realizes they’ve left his mouth. The steady rhythm Armand has set slows, and his knees lock around Daniel’s hips, like he’s scared Daniel will run.

“What do you mean?” Armand’s words are spoken with a heaviness that makes Daniel’s stomach turn. Still, he continues.

“You’ve done it before. This,” Daniel gestures between the two of them. “Us.”

“We have done this before,” Armand corrects, shifting his weight back ever so slightly so he can better meet Daniel’s eye, hissing when the movement unintentionally makes Daniel’s dick catch on something Armand likes. “This is - ahh - something we have done many times. That is why we are so skilled at it.” Daniel shakes his head, and Armand’s eyebrows knit. 

“No,” Daniel argues. “We haven’t. We haven’t been in a relationship, Armand, and we’ve never fucked, and we’ve certainly never been in love. You did all those things with a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore, because you made me forget. We have no history.” That last sentence makes the air stand still. Armand draws in a breath.

“Don’t say that,” Armand says in the quietest, smallest voice Daniel has ever heard. His eyes are shining. “That’s all we have. It’s what we are.” 

“What about this? Me now?” Daniel sounds like a child. Me, me, me. There’s so much pain in the room it’s stifling. Daniel feels like he can’t breathe. He grips Armand’s thighs again, his fingers digging into those slim quads, and it feels good. Like he’s evening the score somehow. “Take it,” Daniel grunts, pumping into Armand. “You might as well, right? Who cares about my needs when I’m only going to forget?”

“Daniel,” Armand resists, digging his knees into the mattress to stay still, but it just eggs Daniel on. He rocks into Armand harder, his hands sliding to Armand’s hips so he’s rolling them again. “Daniel, stop, I- We-” Armand lets out a broken moan when Daniel reaches behind him, his fingers finding the place where they’re connected. Daniel feels that spot, where Armand’s rim is stretched out on his cock, and he scoffs. It’s everything he’s wanted for the past fifty-two years, and it feels like a lie. 

“Isn’t this what you were looking for?” Daniel pulls his wrist away, and Armand lets out a mewl in relief, but the look of panic is back again when Daniel wraps the same hand around his cock. Armand’s face contorts in a silent scream, his hips bucking. “This is what you asked for. It’s something you’ve already had.”

“Daniel, stop. We can talk about this, but I can’t,” Daniel squeezes, turning his wrist, and Armand cries. “Please!” He exclaims. “I’m going to-”

“What?” Daniel asks, out of breath. He can barely form words. He’s sick of this, of everything: Daniel is sick of being sick, he’s sick of not knowing his past or himself - the one thing everyone should be entitled to - and he’s sick of Armand having all the power. It isn’t fair that he’s in control, even though he’s convinced himself he’s not, running from Lestat and Louis and Claudia and Daniel. Armand turned tail in Dubai and ran straight into Daniel’s arms, but that wasn’t good enough for him. It’s like he’s burrowing away in Daniel’s chest, hiding from him by taking over his body. It’s agony. Armand won’t even admit he’s doing it. “You’re going to come? Is that it? Big whoop, Armand. It’s the least you could fucking do,” Daniel doesn’t know where he finds the energy to fuck Armand like this. It comes from deep inside him, fueled by desperation and indignation and passion. It’s deadly. 

“Beloved,” Armand sounds broken, especially when Daniel spits into his free hand, then squeezes Armand’s balls. He makes a noise so sinful even Daniel’s journalist mind can’t come up with a way to describe it. “Daniel. No more,” he begs, but all Daniel can think about is how he’s been begging Armand for months, years. It hasn’t gotten him anywhere.  

“You’re the vamp here, Armand. You want me to stop?” Daniel tugs on Armand’s balls at the same time he thrusts. Armand’s body bends at the waist, practically folding in on itself. “Make me.” Armand pulls away, and Daniel wrestles him closer. Armand’s cock becomes caged between their stomachs, forgotten by Daniel as he throws his arms around Armand’s shoulders and traps him there. But then, Armand isn’t actually helpless, he’s stronger than Daniel, could easily rip away as he writhes, but he doesn’t, and Daniel keeps drawing him in, suffocating Armand by pressing his face into the crook of his neck-

Armand comes.

It happens in long stripes on their torsos, makes a blood red and milky white mess, and it consumes Armand. He spasms, quaking in Daniel’s arms, and lets out a sob. It’s just one, but Daniel swears it rewires his brain. Maybe that’s why Daniel suddenly finishes, painting Armand’s insides and making them real to each other from the inside out. Armand’s hips stutter and he breathes a small oh in Daniel’s ear as he’s pumped full, resigned and taking it all. He stays on top of Daniel until Daniel slips out, and even then, he stays a little longer. Daniel doesn’t make any moves to cajole him, the closest he does is slip his fingers between Armand’s cheeks, finger fucking his cum back in where it’s dribbled out. Armand twists, but doesn’t retreat, ultimately canting his hips to beckon Daniel’s fingers deeper. Daniel lets Armand use his fingers like that, but ultimately pulls away.

“This is gross,” Daniel says, wiping his fingers on the sheets. He can feel the mess, tacky on their skin. Armand pushes himself to his elbows, silently retreating to the bathroom. When he returns, he’s cleaned up, though he doesn’t have a washcloth or anything for Daniel. It makes him bristle, but then Armand is crawling between Daniel’s legs again, and he’s licking, fixing the mess he’s made. Daniel simply watches Armand eat his own spend, wondering if it’s all part of a show. Is everything a master plan with Armand? Was this bound to happen the moment Armand turned up here?

“I don’t forgive you,” Daniel tells Armand. He falters, tongue lapping at Daniel’s navel, before continuing. Armand doesn’t respond until he’s licked Daniel clean, greedily swallowing, reverently attending to Daniel. 

“I know,” Armand tells him once he’s finished. 

“I don’t see why I would,” Daniel keeps going. “So tell me. Give me a reason, Armand.”

“I don’t think I can,” Armand says, wistful. “I could make you forgive me, I suppose. Or forget. But I won’t be doing that anymore.” He shrugs, such a human thing, and Daniel knows Armand picked it up from him. “You have to decide, beloved. You have to choose to,” he swallows, looking away. “...forgive me. Or want to, at the very least.” Daniel hears the unspoken statement: you have to choose to love me.

No one ever has.

“I want to squeeze you until you break,” Daniel makes fists with his hands. They refuse to stay steady. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m angry or in love.” Armand exhales, his breath one he doesn’t even need. His eyes are sad. He eases himself next to Daniel, only their shoulders touching.

“Do you think,” Armand asks carefully. “It could be both?” They look at each other, and Armand is so beautiful. He’s familiar and horrifying and he’s here with Daniel–always has been, never was, all at once.

Daniel won’t forgive Armand, so he’ll tighten his grip.

“Well,” Daniel surrenders. “We’ve tried to be rid of each other for over fifty years. It hasn’t worked.” He finds himself inching closer to Armand. “Sounds like both to me.” He swallows, feeling so raw. “Tell me it will be different this time.” He makes this one request of Armand. He reaches out, tracing a line from Daniel’s shoulder to hip, shoulder to hip, up and down and so soothing. Daniel shivers underneath the attention and the observation that Armand has fallen silent, ruminating on his response.

And then he grants Daniel everything. 

“I swear.” Armand promises, and Daniel finally (finally) feels something new.

Certainty.