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As Armand settles on the edge of the bed, Daniel observes him carefully. He notes how Armand straightens his back, and lifts his chin, and casts his eyes out of the window as if he is entirely unconcerned by the weight of Daniel’s gaze. With this posture he looks centuries old, and unbearably weary, and Daniel realises it is a deliberate impression. This version of Armand is just another performance.
Ah, Daniel thinks. Armand has tried to look small and submissive with Daniel before, and it did not work, so now he is… something else. Something ancient and powerful. He will pick the role best suited to whoever he is toying with at the time, Daniel thinks. With bloodied claws, Armand clings to the underside of anyone who will let him stay there, and in the shadow of their figure he adapts to their needs, their wants, their pleasures.
Armand, then, appears to Daniel as a sort of shapeshifting creature. He reminds Daniel of a nature documentary he once watched, in which a snake shed its skin. Through Daniel’s eyes, the process looked as grotesque as it did fascinating. The snake ripped itself open from its mouth, slithered out of its old skin, and emerged shiny and glossy. Daniel can still remember the brightness of the snake’s eye, when it emerged from its old skin. It left its old self behind. It was something brand new.
Thus, here Armand is, shedding his old skin, seemingly wholly recovered from their previous conversations. This snake, with his amber eyes and straight posture, is no longer soft or sweet. In this shape, he would not step into Daniel’s space and quietly declare his love. No, Daniel thinks, Armand is trying something else, he is finding a way to mould himself perfectly to Daniel.
Despite knowing all of this, and despite seeing the way it will inevitably fall apart, Daniel is still here. Of course he is. In every universe, he would have opened the hotel room door to let Armand through. He is an old fool, he thinks, as he stands at the foot of the bed and waits for Armand’s instructions.
Once, Daniel would have been cruel. He would have cut Armand down easily, sliced him up with his words and left him quivering in humiliation at the end of the bed. But now he is tired, and he is lonely, and Armand is all he has, now. He is the only being left in the world that actually wants his company, and he is willing to teach Daniel how to do wondrous things, like walk in the sun…
I want to be your maker, Armand said to him, the last time they met. Daniel’s eyes flicker over Armand’s face. Is this version of Armand, then, his maker? Is this who Armand wishes to emulate, someone strong and old and powerful, someone worthy of being Daniel’s guide?
Armand glances at him. Upon seeing the clinical glint in Daniel’s eyes, he does not avert his gaze, as he did in Dubai. Ah, in Dubai he was all over the place, Daniel thinks, at times completely amused by Daniel and unconcerned by his probing, and at others stricken by him, fearful, averting his eyes and answering questions emotively. It isn’t just Dubai, either - it hardly a week ago when he caught Armand by surprise again in Philadelphia, when Armand uttered it was love as if he hadn’t meant to.
It is always a joy to catch Armand in a lie, but Daniel realises very quickly he will be punished for his examinations today. It would be unwise to provoke this Armand- he would not be flustered, or caught by surprise. He holds Daniel’s gaze, and raises an eyebrow, and his mouth upturns into a crooked smile. Yes, Daniel thinks, that’s it. This is who Armand is today.
Still. Daniel is so fucking curious. That’s his problem.
Surely he couldn’t be denied a little provocation. As a treat. He has been so bored stuck in that tour bus, with no one interesting to talk to and nothing to do except for feed on groupies and get high and listen to Lestat’s awful music over and over again. He misses the intellectual banter between himself, Louis and Armand. He misses looking at their life under a microscope, and seeing their stories change shape under his clinical eye. In truth he misses, mostly, when someone would actually answer his questions and not dance around him instead, and make him feel like the worst fucking journalist on Earth. Lestat is mocking and smart and gives as good as he gets and Daniel misses peeling back the layers of Armand’s lies, breaking him down, feeling clever.
So maybe he’ll push Armand. Just a little. Proceed with caution, he warns himself, but then Armand opens his mouth and Daniel forgets all of it.
“As your maker,” Armand says, “There is much I can teach you.”
“Sure.” Daniel says, “But can we skip the introductory seminar and just get straight into the first lecture, professor?”
Armand’s lips twitch, at this.
“You wish to walk in the sun.” He says. “It is possible, but you must follow my instructions very carefully, if you want to survive.”
“Yeah?” Daniel asks.
He waits for a reaction. Armand’s lips twitch.
“Yeah.” He drawls back. Gotcha, Daniel thinks. Armand rises to his feet, and walks over to the desk. As he turns on the kettle, Daniel watches him curiously.
“You making me a cup of tea, boss?”
“Three steps,” Armand says, ignoring him. “The first, if you recall from your infamous employer, is that you must believe you cannot be harmed.”
Daniel blinks.
“Oh, do you mean what Lestat said at the tower? The whole fucked up love triangle, I’m leaving with your ex boyfriend thing?”
“Astute, Daniel.” Armand says. He turns his head over his shoulder and smiles. It reaches his eyes, warms him a little, and Daniel feels very much like he has passed some sort of test. Already, a little of Armand’s mask has fallen away. This shouldn’t make Daniel smile back, but it does, damn him. Armand’s real smile is infectious. “What do you remember?”
“Lestat says has the blood of Akasha in him, blah, blah-”
“What else?”
“I must be in the mood.” Daniel says. “That’s what he said. He had to allow the fire to harm him.”
“Hyperbole, of course, but no less helpful.” Armand says. He pulls out a coffee cup, and pours in two heaped teaspoons of instant coffee. “We do not have the benefit of the Queen’s blood, but strength of mind cannot be underestimated. You are choosing to be unaffected by the heat of the sun. You must imagine yourself unharmed.”
“Okay.” Daniel says. “Fucking- manifestation, right. I can do that, I mean, it’s just like-"
“Your daughter.” Armand finishes. “And the affirmations she used to repeat incessantly without fail, every single morning, until you banged on the wall for her to-”
“Yeah, if we’re doing this,” Daniel cuts in, “Then you’ve got to stop that, Armand.”
“Hm?” Armand turns his head again, and blinks sweetly, like a confused cat. He puts one sugar into the mug, and Daniel realises he has made the coffee exactly how Daniel would like it. Black, one sugar. Of course he has, Daniel thinks. The realisation catches Daniel off guard, and he doesn’t argue any further.
“Step two.” Armand says, redirecting the conversation smoothly. Daniel curses himself. He missed the opportunity to provoke Armand, and peel away a little more of that mask. “The process must be gradual, especially for a child like yourself. It may take months, or years-”
“Years?”
"You are a quick study, Daniel.” Armand says. “I’m sure it will not take so long. But if you rush, you will only hinder your progress.”
“Right. So no daywalking yet.”
“Throughout this process, you must trust me with your life.” Armand says. He does not turn his head when he speaks, so Daniel cannot see his face. “Do you trust me?”
Daniel does not reply. How does he respond to such a weighted question?
“I trust that you won’t let me burn to a crisp.” Daniel offers, “Is that enough?”
Armand pauses, the coffee steaming in front of him on the desk.
“It is enough.” He murmurs, at last. He turns his head over his shoulder, and meets Daniel’s eyes.
“What’s the third step?” Daniel asks.
Armand considers him, for a moment. Then he turns his face away, slices the skin of his wrist open with his fingernail, and holds it over the coffee.
Oh, Daniel thinks. He goes very, very still as blood pools on the surface of Armand’s skin and drips into the mug. The scent of it is in the air, and it is seeping into Daniel’s bones, making him dizzy and nauseous with hunger. He does not understand the way it seems to call to him. He has tasted it before, on the plane, hot and gushing and sweet on his tongue, but now… now, he is desperate for it.
The hunger aches so terribly. Daniel can’t breathe through the pain of it. Armand lets his wrist gush a moment longer, his face still not visible to Daniel, and then he runs his thumb over the wound and it heals. The smell of coffee and blood mingle in the air and Daniel is stricken by it.
Armand turns, at last, and meets his wild gaze with a gentle smile.
“You are three years old.” Armand murmurs, picking up the mug of coffee with both hands. “A child, Daniel. My child. To withstand the sun, you will need my strength.”
“Your strength.” Daniel repeats, hoarsely, “You mean your blood.”
“If there was another way to teach you this,” Armand says, “Believe me, I would do it.”
“But I don’t believe you, Armand.” Daniel says. “I really don’t.”
“Hm?” Armand blinks, surprised. “You think I want you to…”
Armand trails off. He looks down into the coffee.
“Yes, actually, I do.” Daniel says. Anger boils and seethes under his skin, makes his voice hard. “I’m not drinking it, Armand.”
“If you wish to walk in the sun, Daniel, then you must.”
Daniel is trying to think clearly, but Armand is stepping towards him, and the coffee and the blood are mingling into one musky, intoxicating scent…
Armand stands across from him. He brushes his fingers along the curtains, cracking them open just slightly, and a ray of sunlight falls into the hotel room. It illuminates Armand’s face, and Daniel blinks at him, suddenly awed.
Armand does not break Daniel’s stare as he steps into the light. The sun silhouettes him, causing him to be the only spot of light in the dark. Armand’s skin does not burn, when the sun touches it. As light glides over his skin, he seems not to even notice it.
Daniel gazes at him and cannot think of anything, not even the blood.
“Drink.” Armand says, gently, and holds out the mug.
Daniel, as if in a trance, takes it without hesitating. He brings the mug to his lips the instant he feels the warmth of it between his palms. The hot coffee is so familiar in his mouth - he expected it to taste like paste, as all human food and drink does, but it is good. It is warm and bitter and it is exactly as he likes it and beneath that, there is the blood.
Armand’s blood.
It is exquisite. Daniel closes his eyes, and hums with pleasure. His entire body feels warmed. Before he can stop himself, he has consumed all of it, and though he knows Armand cannot control his mind, he thinks there must be some sort of persuasion in this. How could he lose himself so easily, submit himself to Armand’s blood with such abandon-
He opens his eyes and Armand is staring at him, stricken, his lovely face still lit up by the sun. There is something pained, about his expression. It creases the skin around his eyes, and makes him frown. Daniel, hazy now, and drunk on the few drops of blood that Armand has allowed him, thinks that his frown does not suit him.
It takes Armand only a second to smooth over his expression. Daniel, his mind clearer now, notes how his maker deliberately makes himself calm. Armand inhales, exhales, and steps backwards, out of the sunlight and into the shadows of the hotel room.
“Your turn.” Armand says. Daniel shifts as if to step forward, but Armand holds up a palm. “Your hand. That is all you will be able to manage.”
Daniel obeys silently. He rolls up his sleeve, and feels, for the first time, nervous. Armand, as if sensing it, smiles a little.
“Breathe.” He says. “Remember lesson one. You must believe you will not be harmed.”
Fuck it, Daniel thinks, and he holds up his hand. He inches forward, and lets his fingertips drift into the ray of sunlight-
Daniel hisses at the touch of the sun against his skin. It burns. At once, his skin begins to peel, and blister, and the room fills with grey ash. The remnants of his first layer of skin drift around them.
“Shit.” He says, and pulls back. Armand, expressionless, just watches.
“Again.” Armand says.
“But-”
“You are stubborn.” Armand says, with such warmth that Daniel suddenly cannot meet his gaze. “You will achieve this, I am sure of it. Again.”
Daniel, once more, obeys. He braces himself, and holds out his hand in the sunlight. At once, the pain begins again, harsher now, more searing, and Daniel closes his eyes-
“Daniel.” Armand says, hard and firm. There is a different feeling of warmth, then, and when Daniel opens his eyes he sees that Armand has covered his hand with both of his. “No harm will come to you. Look at me.”
The touch of their hands feels warmer than it ought to. Perhaps it is the blood, Daniel thinks, connecting them. When Daniel meets Armand’s gaze, he finds that Armand’s eyes are bright with a quiet, easy strength. Those eyes startle Daniel enough to distract him from the pain of his burns. As he holds Armand’s stare, something settles inside of him. He can breathe again.
“Look at me.” Armand murmurs, again, softer now.
Everything seems to fade away, then, as Armand holds his gaze. It is like the rapture, only, there is nothing supernatural about this moment. It is a meeting of souls. A pure, intimate connection. Daniel has never felt so close to anyone, and certainly not through a simple stare. His heart twitches, stirs, and comes to life again after decades of lying asleep.
No, Daniel tells himself, absolutely not, Danny, we are not doing this, but then Armand turns Daniel’s hand towards the light, and smiles at him, and he knows it is hopeless.
“See?” Armand says.
Armand’s gaze falls on their hands, and Daniel follows his gaze. His hand is red and blistered from the first attempt, but it is no longer burning. Daniel’s eyes widen. His skin is withstanding the sun without a hint of pain. Part of him had thought Armand was lying to him, but here Daniel is, with his hand under the sunlight!
Armand runs his thumb gently over the blistered skin, and Daniel shivers. He feels the touch awaken in him a longing he thought he would never feel again. As the skin heals, it leaves a reddish colour behind, like a sunburn. Daniel feels something similar happen inside of him - an imprint of this moment settles on his heart and sears itself permanently, a lasting burn.
“It will fade.” Armand murmurs. He is still looking down at their hands, mesmerised.
Daniel understands his awe, and feels it himself as Armand brushes his thumb once more over the healed skin, for no other reason than to touch. Here they are, Daniel thinks, touching in the sunlight, and it is nice, and then Armand turns Daniel’s hand, covers it with his own again, squeezes… The skin of Daniel’s neck flushes, all the way up to his ears…
And then Armand lets go.
He steps back, his expression closing once more, and Daniel stares at him. For a moment, Daniel stands completely still, his hand held up to the light. Then he pulls it back. Armand turns his face away, and swallows something thick.
“Well.” Daniel says. His voice comes out cracked, and he clears his throat. “It worked.”
Armand’s lips twitch, despite everything.
“Yes.” He says, “It did.”
There isn’t much left to say, after that.
The next lesson, Armand offers a change of scenery.
It is nearly morning when Daniel climbs into the seat next to him. The car that has been parked outside of the hotel is dark inside. The windows are tinted black, to block out the sun, and the only light is Armand’s iPad, which is nestled in his lap. He looks up at Daniel, as he settles into the seat beside him.
Daniel takes a moment to observe Armand. Who is he today? What role is he playing? Armand looks back at him with a small smile, and Daniel thinks that he is still calm, and in control, but there is something more casual about it. Less careful, more easy. Daniel takes note of this. His curiousity is insatiable. He has never had a more fascinating subject to observe, after all.
“Who drove you here?” Daniel asks. “Whose car is this?”
“Hello to you too, Daniel.” Armand says, his lips twitching with amusement. “Are you ready to try again?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Daniel says. He is impatient, his skin sizzling and burning with the need to start, because…
Because, damn him, he has been thinking about the blood.
No, he has been craving it, ever since that damned cup of coffee. He has been imagining the taste of Armand’s blood for days, and he is hungry for it, he is awfully, desperately hungry. Starving, even, and God, it hurts. Armand is gazing at him in the dark and it is suddenly difficult to look into his eyes knowing the slightest taste of his blood has wrecked Daniel like this. It’s a fucking nightmare, really, but it is a hell that tastes so wonderful. It feels like the first time trying a new drug and knowing, even then, that he would be hooked on it soon enough.
Daniel can see the rush of Armand’s blood as it thrums through his veins. He watches the movement of it under his skin, and he can still remember the smell of it, the taste...
“Then,” Armand says, oblivious to Daniel’s inner turmoil, “Let us begin. Aim to stay calm, Daniel. I think you could manage the touch of the sunlight without my full guidance, this morning.”
When Armand hands over a flask, Daniel thinks he could die from the need for it. Fucking hell, he thinks. He has already spent so many nights awake in his coffin remembering the taste of it. How can he be so pathetic, after just one mug of coffee?
“Drink.” Armand says, “And let it strengthen you.”
“Will I always need the blood?” Daniel asks. Armand frowns. He perceives the question wrong, and reaches to take the flask back. Daniel raises an eyebrow, and holds onto it. “I just mean- I won’t ever be able to do this on my own?”
“The blood is a temporary measure.” Armand says, softly. “You can always try without, if you are willing to withstand the pain.”
“Nah.” Daniel says, gruffly, casually, as if it doesn’t matter, as if he could voluntarily give the flask back. He’s already unscrewed the cap, damn him; he isn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself.
He smiles as soon as he smells the liquid inside of the flask.
“First my coffee, just how I like it,” Daniel says, “Now you’ve fucking- You’ve put the blood in Malt Scotch, Armand? Really? And don’t think I’ve forgotten those cocktails in Dubai, either.”
“Is this Scotch not your favourite?” Armand shrugs, as if this is an ordinary thing to say, “The Next Chapter is a whiskey you were gifted in 1974 and, despite the price, could not help but adore. Toffee sweetness, orange, flower blossom. You enjoyed the sweetness despite your usual savoury tastes-”
“I did.” Daniel agrees. He smiles, and then remembers himself. “But I told you to stop doing this shit.”
“But I know this about you.” Armand cuts in. “I know which whiskey you prefer, and I know how you like your coffee, and I can mix your cocktails perfectly. Should I pretend I do not know these things, and give you something awful? Would you prefer that, Daniel?”
Daniel sighs. The whiskey smells good and the scent of the blood lingers in the air and Armand tilts his head in the dark, his eyes glinting as if he knows Daniel’s answer will be no. Daniel refuses to give Armand the satisfaction, and lifts the flask instead. Armand hums, triumphant anyway, and leans back in his seat to watch.
At the first touch of the whiskey, coke and blood on his tongue, Daniel makes a noise in his throat. Yes, yes, the whiskey is his favourite, sweet and harsh and bright, but it is the blood that makes him shiver, the blood that melts him into the passenger’s seat, the blood that unsettles his heart. Daniel closes his eyes. Oh, he has missed it. A mere week, and he has missed it. Always, he thinks, the addict.
When Daniel is finished, he feels more than a little tipsy. He turns his head, and meets Armand’s gaze. Once more, Armand looks stricken, with his eyes wide and his lips downturned. The alcohol softens Daniel too much, makes the word pretty something he actively thinks about Armand, without trying to push it down. He is pretty, so very pretty,* with his eyelashes fluttering as he blinks, and the curve of his lips, and the sharp edge of his jaw-
“Are you ready?” Armand asks quietly. Daniel blinks, then recovers himself, and nods. “I will open the window. Let the side of your face touch the sunlight, and know that it will warm you. Remember, it will not harm you. Repeat that for me, Daniel.”
Daniel does not know if it is the blood that makes him obey, or his own foolish desire.
“It will not harm me.” He says. Obeying warms his stomach, his navel, between his legs- fuck, it should not feel so good to do what he is told.
“Again.” Armand says, and Daniel is sure he is doing it just for the pleasure of it now, but he follows the instruction anyway.
“It will not harm me.”
Armand smiles, and ducks his head, pleased.
“Good.” Armand says. His eyes seem darker, when they flicker over Daniel’s face. “I will open the window now. The sun will warm you, remember?”
Then- He leans over Daniel, and Daniel inhales sharply. He is so close, so warm, and he smells more masculine than Daniel would expect, more like cologne than perfume, and as he leans the slope of his neck is right in Daniel’s eyeline. The whiskey, he thinks, has intoxicated him - he is not in his right mind. But God, he wants to sink his teeth into Armand’s neck, rip open his skin, feel the gush of his blood in his blood. Hot and lovely, dripping down his chin-
Armand leans back, and through the open window, sunlight hits the edge of Daniel’s cheek, and touches a little of the skin of his arm. Daniel hisses, the skin blistering where the light touches it, but then Armand touches his elbow gently. He says nothing, but the touch is grounding, and Daniel takes a breath.
He imagines being young again, leaning his head out of the car window as he drove, feeling the sun and the breeze on his skin. He felt so alive, then, like nothing could stop him. And here, now, sated by Armand’s blood and lit by the sun, he feels just the same.
The pain stops. The sun is warm. Daniel can breathe again.
He sighs, and smiles. As he grows used to the feeling of the sun on his skin, Daniel rests his chin on his hand, and leans his head further out of the window. He is suddenly grateful for Armand. It is a wonderful thing, this gift.
“It’s nice.” Daniel murmurs.
“Yes.” Armand agrees.
The air between them, for the first time, feels light, and pleasant. For a moment, they sit in a comfortable silence. Then Daniel takes advantage of the peace, and reaches forward to turn on the radio.
Armand makes a pleased noise, when the first note of music plays from the speaker, and Daniel lifts his head, turning to look at him in surprise. A ray of sunlight has landed on Armand’s face, and it makes him glow. He meets Daniel’s gaze, and grins excitedly, and Daniel likes him like this. At once, he looks more and less human.
“You like music?” Daniel asks, as Armand hums along with Elton John.
“Yes.” Armand says. “Some.”
“Like…?”
Armand glances at him, surprised.
“You’re interested?”
“Sure.” Daniel says. “Hit me.”
“Well,” Armand says, slowly, as if waiting for Daniel to jump in with a sharp barb. “I tend to prefer slower, more atmospheric sounds.”
Daniel nods, and listens. Armand blinks at him, and continues.
“Classical compositions, of course, have been my preference for decades.” He says. He becomes more emboldened, when Daniel does not interrupt. “I particularly enjoyed when musicians incorporated art and performance into their work, such as Gabriel Fauré. Oh, but there are so many modern artists that suit this style. Have you heard Keaton Hanson? The instrumental, it is enough to bring you to tears. It is rather delightful when they utilise piano well in modern music. Oh, and of course, film soundtracks- Of course, I know you already enjoy Hans Zimmer-“
And so on, and so on, Armand rambles, and Daniel gradually sits up in his seat, and stares at him, because he realises, suddenly, that what he is being given is a rare and wondrous gift. This, he thinks, is Armand. This is a moment with no pretences, no lies, in which Armand is just a man telling Daniel about his favourite music, and it is lovely. Daniel is half-in love with him by the time his animated voice trails off into an embarrassed silence.
“I should have just said,” Armand says, ducking his head, “Who my favourite musician is, yes?”
“No.” Daniel says, softer than he ought to, probably, but he is tipsy and he is warm and suddenly the reality of being a vampire is less terrifying and lonely than it has been for the last three years. “No, I liked that answer better.”
Armand smiles, slightly. He reaches forward, and touches Daniel’s cheek. The skin heals, under Armand’s palm, but even after the blistering has faded, Armand’s hand does not move. He runs his thumb over Daniel’s skin as he holds his face.
“Thank you.” He says, gently.
As Daniel leans into the touch, a question crosses his mind: Who, then, is the real Armand? This angelic thing, basking in the sunlight, gushing about music, holding Daniel’s face like he is precious? Or the terrifying shadow above him in 1973, harsh and cold, forcing him to his knees? Or the vengeful, gorgeous monster on the plane, blood thick in both of their mouths, the wretched joy of releasing the tension between them at last…
Armand sighs as he runs his thumb over his cheek again. Is this Armand’s new skin, Daniel thinks, and he has he created it because he knows it will weaken Daniel’s resolve?
Daniel is intoxicated enough that it doesn’t seem to matter, regardless. It has been a long time since he has been cradled. If Armand is to slice him open later - the hurt, of course, feels inevitable, for Armand’s cruelty surely will return - then does it make this moment any less sweet?
At last, Armand drops his hand, but Daniel doesn’t break his gaze. Armand blinks at him, wide-eyed, deerlike. How can he appear so genuine? Daniel does not understand him, yet, but longs desperately to. Sometimes Armand seems so caught off guard, like when Daniel asked him about Dubai and he uttered love as if he didn’t mean to and-
Is a monster even capable of love? Daniel does not know why the answer matters to him, because he will never love Armand, anyway, or accept love from him in return. And yet, he thinks, he wants to drive somewhere with this strange creature. He longs to know everything about him, learn him the way he has learned Daniel - inside out.
The question is on the tip of his tongue. It would be so easy. Wanna go somewhere? Anywhere away from here, anywhere with you.
Daniel does not ask, but he wants to. He suddenly wants many things, things he thought he had forgotten about in his old age. Company and conversation and shared pleasure… These desires curl around his heart as Armand offers him a shaky smile, and Daniel does not know what to do with them, or where to put them, or how to make them into something real.
The culmination, then, of all these lessons, is that Daniel can walk in the sun. By the end it feels easy, though his skin is red raw with the effort. Alas, he enjoys the process immensely, and the pain is nothing compared to the sweet pleasure of the sun on his skin.
During their last lesson, they are having a stroll through the park, and Armand is walking a little ahead of him. As the sunlight lands on Armand’s skin, Daniel decides that he still hasn’t figured him out. He is still that shedding snake, strange and fascinating and wholly unknowable. He is too much and too little all at once, and he is surrounded by so many walls.
There’s one question, though, that burns on Daniel’s tongue.
“You should’ve told me, man,” He says, “About the blood.”
Armand turns his head, slightly, over his shoulder.
“What about it?”
“You know what.” Daniel says, irritated, his embarrassment flaring on the surface of his skin.
It isn’t easy to admit dependence on something, but now that he has successfully walked in the sun, Daniel has to ask. He is unsure how he will manage without Armand’s blood, now that their lessons are finished. The taste of it keeps him up at night, makes him sick. He worries he will die without it.
“No.” Armand says. “I do not. Please, elaborate.”
“It’s a maker-fledgling thing, right?” Daniel says. “C’mon, you do know, Armand. I’m talking about the- the way the blood grips me. The way it makes me crave it. It’s keeping me up at night... What the fuck do I do about it?”
Armand stops walking. After a moment, he turns around, his eyes wide with surprise, and his lips slightly parted. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.
“Well?” Daniel bites, embarrassed now.
“I do not-“ Armand pauses, swallows. “I do not believe it is a maker-fledgling phenomenon.”
Daniel’s stomach swoops.
“What, then?” He snaps. “Because I can’t deal with it, seriously, I’m fucking terrified of what is going to happen to me without it. I need it, Armand, it’s driving me insane.”
Armand bites his bottom lip.
“Troublesome.” He murmurs, to himself.
“Armand.” Daniel says, hard enough that Armand looks at him. “Seriously. Explain.”
“Do you not feed between our lessons?” Armand asks, as if he doesn’t already know, as if he doesn’t follow Daniel everywhere he goes.
“Course I do. It’s just… It’s not the same.”
“Ah.” Armand says quietly. He’s trying not to smile. “Yes, you were always easy to hook.”
“What?”
“Not here.” Armand says. He touches Daniel’s arm, and guides him from the busy park to a clearing, where it is quieter. When they are enclosed by a thicket of trees, he sighs.
“I’m sorry. I did not think….” Armand says. “The sharing of blood, over time, can become… intimate. It often creates a bond, and I fear my blood, as it is old and powerful, may be- addictive to you, in such frequent quantities. Your personality has always been… prone to dependency. Hm. I should have realised you would become reliant on it.”
“Fuck off.” Daniel says, stricken. “No, no, that’s not it. You’ve been doing this on purpose. You knew this would happen. You wanted me hooked on you!”
“No.” Armand says. Daniel searches his face - there’s a lie there, he decides, in the furrow of his eyebrows, the line of his mouth. A lie, surely. “No, Daniel, it is incidental.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second.” Daniel bites.
He steps forward, and Armand steps backwards, into the thicket of trees. A ray of light falls upon them, lights Armand up. Always pretty. Always devastating.
“What’s the play? Hook me on your blood, drug me up, make me need you so much that I won’t leave-“ Daniel inhales sharply. “I’m such an idiot, man, fuck.”
“You are not an idiot, Daniel.” Armand says, gently. “Far from it.”
“Just admit it.” Daniel says. “The blood was always the point, yeah? The daywalking lessons, they were just a means to an end.”
“Daniel, I-“
“Don’t.” Daniel snaps. “This is what you do, isn’t it? You lie through your teeth to get what you want. Jesus, I mean, did I even need your blood for the daylight shit? Be honest.”
“Yes!” Armand says. “Yes, Daniel, you did really need it.”
Daniel scoffs. He steps closer again, and Armand steps backwards in response, deliberately pressing his back against a tree. Daniel cannot help but think he is only in this position, close and furious, with Armand practically pinned beneath him, because Armand wants him to be. A cunning snake indeed, Daniel thinks.
The worst part is that Daniel saw this coming. Deep down, he suspected all of this. The betrayal doesn’t matter, after all, he realises. Of course it doesn’t.
“I think,” Daniel says, “That you’re an actor, and you’ll play whatever fucking role you can to get me to stay. But guess what, maker? This shit doesn’t work on me. I can see right through you.”
Armand’s eyes warm, a little.
“Yes.” He agrees. “You certainly can.”
“And now,” Daniel says, “I’m fucking- addicted to you.”
“It appears that way.”
“Right.” Daniel says. “So what the hell do I do about it?”
“I can continue to give you flasks of my blood. It does not bother me.”
“Sure, yeah, fucking- sending me blood deliveries. What, you gonna Uber it to me? Are you being serious? Fuck off, Armand.”
Armand’s eyes flicker over his face. His expression changes, softens, and Daniel hates it, this version of him, this wide-eyed pleading thing, this child desperate not to be abandoned.
“I can wean you off it.” Armand says, quietly. “If you wish. It is like any drug. Reduce the quantity slowly, minimise the effects of the withdrawal-“
“Jesus Christ.” Daniel covers his face with his hands. “You’re insane. I mean- I knew you were. But God.”
He rubs his palms across his face, then looks at Armand, really looks at him. His grotesque creature, Daniel thinks, this snake adopting a new skin. When will Armand reveal himself to him? What else is there to see?
The sun disappears behind a cloud and casts them in shadow. Daniel’s eyes flicker to Armand’s throat and he realises just how close they are.
“I can taper you.” Armand murmurs. “I’m sorry, truly. We will create a plan, spreadsheets- for the withdrawals, I can use my iPad- we will-“
“Yeah, let’s not do this.” Daniel says. “Cut the act. You’ve tried this one so many times. You know the fawning doesn’t work with me, Armand, so don’t look at me like that.”
“Would you prefer me cruel?” Armand asks, impatient now. His soft voice hardens, his eyes cast in shadow. “Do you want the blood, Daniel, outside of needing it? For you certainly are not putting up a fight. You are practically begging for another taste-“
“Yeah.” Daniel says. “A little better. But no dice. This one is overcompensating.”
Armand rolls his eyes.
“Ah, and here is Daniel Molloy, the psychoanalysist-“
“This one.” Daniel says. “Is way more likeable. Argumentative, clever, funny, a bit condescending- Still, though, not buying it.”
Armand snaps. He swaps their positions, and holds Daniel by his throat, his eyes completely black now. Daniel grins, triumphant. A thrill of desire warms him as Armand tightens his grip around his neck. He is delighted to see, in the light, that Armand is not wearing his skin. This fury and violence makes him honest, Daniel thinks, and now he is acting without any sort of pretence.
“Bravo.” He drawls. Armand hisses, “Much better. Where’ve you been keeping this one? I like this one.”
“Daniel.” Armand warns, low and hard.
“Since we’re being honest now.” Daniel says. His voice is a little hoarse, with the strength of Armand’s grip, but he doesn’t mind the pain of speaking. It warms his stomach, honestly, with sickening desire. He’s ridiculously aroused by the way he is struggling to take a full breath. “Yeah, I don’t just need the blood. I love it. And I love walking in the sun. And fuck it, I’ve loved just spending time with you, okay?”
Armand’s expression changes. He blinks, and then softens, his grip on Daniel’s throat loosening.
“You have?”
“Sure I have.” Daniel says. “So you don’t need to drug me to enjoy your company, okay? Stop it, Armand, stop all of this shit! Man, you tortured me in that room for days and I still found you interesting, didn’t I?”
Armand blinks.
“Yes.” He murmurs. “I see. I… apologise, then.”
“Sure. Apology accepted. You gonna be honest now too?” Daniel asks.
Armand’s nail scrapes against the skin of Daniel’s neck, and it does not feel like an accident, though Armand plays it off as if it is.
“I have been selfish.”
”Okay.” Daniel says. He holds his gaze expectantly. Armand takes a breath, and averts his eyes. Oh, Daniel thinks, this again. The surprise. Finally, he is breaking Armand down again. He has been waiting for this moment. At last, at last.
“I love the sound you make.” Armand says. “When you drink it.”
Daniel swallows.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Armand hums. “And I love the way you close your eyes when the first drop passes your lips.”
“I love the way I can smell it on you, afterwards.” Armand continues. He scrapes his nail over Daniel’s neck again. “And the stain it leaves on your bottom lip.”
“Right.” Daniel breathes. “Fuck. Okay. That’s- Yeah. Good.”
He feels Armand’s hand tighten around his neck again, in response, and Daniel can hardly take a breath now. Finally, he thinks, Armand is ripping away his outer skin. The truth is emerging from inside of it.
“I love teaching you,” Armand says, “Guiding you in the way that I was…”
Armand presses his lips together, looks away. He lets go of Daniel’s neck, and rests his palm on his chest, instead.
The moment is beautiful, Daniel thinks, as the sun emerges from behind a cloud and envelops them in light. Armand is beautiful.
“In the way that I was not guided.” Armand finishes, softly. “I love all of it, and most of all, Daniel, I love you. You cannot blame me for wanting a way to keep you. The blood has drawn us closer, has it not?”
“But I didn’t need it to be with you, you idiot-“
“Ah, but didn’t you? The allure of walking in the sun would fade eventually. How many gifts could I teach you before you tired of me? Once you can fly, or conjure flame from air, or manipulate minds- You would have no use for me.”
“Our vampire bond,” Daniel says, “Makes the entire world disappear, and you think I could just leave you. Where the fuck would I go? Who do I have? Seriously, Armand, do you realise how fucking lonely I’ve been? Do you?”
Armand sighs.
“Lonely?” He asks. He smiles, a little. “Yes, actually, I think I do.”
They look at each other, for a moment.
“I have been terribly lonely, too.” Armand says. “For a very long time.”
“You’ve watched me.” Daniel says. “My entire life, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“So who do you think I’ve got?”
Armand softens.
“I know.” He says, gently. His eyes are tender as they trace Daniel’s face. “I am sorry. You are right. I know your sorrow intimately. You have always been so terribly lonely, Daniel.”
“Yeah.” Daniel murmurs, grateful for Armand’s sincerity. “So in summary, we’re both fucking- batshit insane, and we need each other. Okay? I need you.”
“My blood.” Armand corrects, quietly.
“No.” Daniel says. “I mean, yes, yeah, but not just that. You. This vampire loneliness, Armand- I can’t do it anymore. I need you.”
Armand blinks.
“Need you.” Daniel says. “Want you. Fuck, I don’t know. It’s not just the blood, okay? Don’t get it twisted. It’s all of you.”
“Alright.” Armand says.
“And it’s like- if you won’t have me,” Daniel says, “Who will?”
“Have you?” Armand says. He runs his thumb gently over Daniel’s skin.
“Yeah, I mean, we’ve already been doing the… blood stuff, and you’re my maker, teaching me shit… We may as well admit it. You’re my- It’s called a companion, right? What we’re doing? That’s the name for it?”
Armand goes very, very still. For a moment, he just stares at Daniel. And then, something joyous breaks his face open. He beams at Daniel, and Daniel just blinks back at him in surprise.
“Okay.” Daniel says. “Sure. That’s a… reaction.”
“My companion.” Armand says, practically buzzing with it, and it is the first time Daniel has been confronted with this Armand, this giddy, joyous child, but he is not complaining. He likes this one. He likes all of them, if he’s honest. A whole lot. Every facet, every shade, every contortion. God, he really, really does.
“Why the fuck not?” Daniel says.
“You,” Armand says, “want to be my companion?”
“I mean- Yeah?”
“I have never been called that before.” Armand says. “Voluntarily.”
Daniel’s lips part in surprise. A wave of tenderness makes him feel sick with its strength. His fingers ghost the hem of Armand’s shirt, and he latches on, just to feel close to him.
“Really?” He asks.
Armand nods.
“Okay, then.” Daniel says. He swallows his pride. “My companion.”
Armand bursts into this glorious laugh, all bright and loud and beautiful, and it does not fit with Daniel’s perception of him, not at all. But of course, Armand is constantly changing shape, morphing under light of the sun. Daniel loves that laugh, how real it is, how unrestrained. He wants to hear it again, and again, and again….
As the sunlight makes their skin glow, Armand’s other hand lingers by Daniel’s hip, his fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. He chases Daniel’s gaze, captures it, and he appears lighter than Daniel has ever seen him.
“So are you still upset,” Armand says, “About the blood?”
Daniel hesitates. He is distracted by the way Armand is toying with his shirt, and those amber eyes tracing his face. This, Daniel tells himself, will not last; this fragile joy will be shattered soon enough. There will be more bitterness between them, surely, than sweetness. It is their nature. And yet… Daniel wants to linger in the moment.
“Yeah.” Daniel says. “Cause it seems like there’s only one way to deal with it.”
”Which is?” Armand asks. His eyes spark with curiousity.
Daniel’s eyes flicker to the slope of Armand’s neck. Armand, to his delight, shivers as if Daniel has already broken his skin with his teeth, as if his lips are already latched around a wound.
“You’re saying you didn’t plan this-” Daniel pauses to reach out, and trace the pad of his finger over Armand’s neck. Ah, so soft, so inviting, and Armand smiles, slowly, allowing him to touch. “To be the outcome? I don’t believe that for a second.”
“You are presumptuous, Daniel.” Armand says. His breath catches, a little, when Daniel’s touch lingers near his ear. “There are far less… intimate ways to share blood.”
“I remember, you know, what you said as Rashid.” Daniel says. He rubs the lobe of Armand’s ear between his thumb and forefinger, and Armand presses his lips together as if to hold something back. “I wouldn’t let you near my neck if you were-”
Armand laughs again, breathy now, quiet. Daniel thinks he could get addicted to that sort of laugh.
“But this is what you really wanted, yeah? All along? Me drinking from you?” Daniel asks. Armand tilts his head, like a predator, and Daniel knows, finally, he has been hunted, and here is the feast, here is the slaughter, though it is Daniel who is going to consume.
There is a silence. Daniel leans against the tree, his thumb running over the edge of Armand’s ear, his body fixed under the weight of Armand’s gaze. Finally, Armand’s low voice breaks through the silence.
“Ah.” Armand murmurs. “Clever boy. Yes, yes. I have been waiting for this. I am surprised you have restrained yourself for so long.”
Daniel takes a breath. He knew, somehow, this was true, but hearing it is different. The words melt Daniel, make his fingers scrape over the bark of the tree, just as a means of feeling grounded. He does not think he will survive this, his mouth ghosting over Armand’s neck, his teeth sinking into his skin-
Armand breathes unsteadily when Daniel gently tilts his head to one side to better expose his neck. Awe cascades over Daniel, as the sunlight hits the skin of that lovely neck, and he is suddenly unsure how he got here. A blessing, he thinks, a miracle.
Finally…
Daniel leans forward. When he is close enough, he breathes against the skin of Armand’s neck, but does not dare to touch it with his lips yet. Armand’s hand, still resting gently on his chest, clenxhes. His other hand tugs at the hem of Daniel’s shirt, pulls him closer. This, then, is a plea from Armand. Closer, closer, please.
At last, Daniel ghosts his lips against the base of Armand’s neck, and Armand sighs, pleased. If it were just about the blood, Daniel thinks, then he would not linger like this. He would not press a kiss against Armand’s skin, and then another, and then another, gentle as he trails upwards. He would not, in a daring moment, brush his tongue along the skin, and he would not smile when Armand made a noise in his throat in response.
No, Daniel thinks, it is not just about the blood, it never was and never will be, and though it is terrifying to admit it, it is a relief, too. Here, then, is his companion, someone who needs him, and who he needs in return. What does walking in the sun matter, when he has found such connection, such intimacy?
Daniel grazes his teeth along the line of Armand’s neck, and wonders if already be in love with him. In fact he is forced to wonder if he has ever actually been in love, because even with Alice, he did not need like this, with such ferocity. The vampire bond, surely, is not enough of an explanation for the way he wants to crawl inside of Armand’s skin, and map the exact positions of organs, and understand the intricate workings of his brain. If it is love it is nothing like Daniel has known love to be and that, perhaps, is what keeps him coming back for more of it. This feeling… it is his strongest addiction, Daniel thinks, the desire to understand, and to understand Armand specifically.
It is not long before Daniel loses his train of thought, for Armand is murmuring to him, tugging at him, please, Daniel, don’t tease, and Daniel breathes out a laugh.
“You really do want this, hm?” He presses a kiss to the skin of Armand’s neck.
“Desperately.” Armand says, and warmth aches in Daniel’s stomach, between his legs. “Come, fledgling. Have me, please.”
Should he obey this instruction? Or should he press another kiss to Armand’s skin, lips a little more open now, at least enough that he can gently suck the skin into his mouth-
Armand hisses, and suddenly his hand is in Daniel’s hair, his fingers rough as they tangle and tug at it, and he is pushing Daniel into his neck, and Daniel makes the sort of moan he finds embarrassing, higher and breathier and more desperate than he would like it to be, but he cannot help it, can he, when Armand is being so forceful, so rough? Yes, Daniel thinks, yes, yes, yes, and he grazes the tips of his fangs along Armand’s skin, so very lightly, just to make him react. It works - Armand hisses, again, and pushes his face further into his neck.
At last, Daniel obeys, and breaks the skin with his teeth. It is a small wound, but no less effective. Blood gushes into his mouth, but for a moment Daniel doesn’t even taste it, because Armand is making this quiet, lovely sound in the back of his throat that Daniel is trying so very hard to memorise, for it is a Godly thing, so pretty and so needy…
Daniel becomes aware of the taste of Armand’s blood in his mouth and tunes into it, letting it consume him. Ah, the warmth of it, its sweetness, the sharpness of the aftertaste, like expensive whiskey, like dark chocolate. Daniel drinks and drinks and drinks and- it is so wonderfully filling. It was not the same from a flask or a mug, for it feels like a life force when it’s from a vein. Divine, divine.
Daniel has never felt closer to anyone than he does to Armand in this moment. The sensation of sharing his blood is incredible, unimaginable - he could not have even dreamed of it being so lovely. No wonder Armand had arranged every moment between them for the purpose of this exact feeling. It is hard to blame him for it when Daniel wants it just as badly, more, and he suddenly realises if he does not stop Armand will have no blood left.
He pulls away quickly, roughly, but Armand shakes his head, pulls him back. Daniel catches a glimpse of him before Armand buries Daniel’s face back in his bloody neck, and he sees that his maker is weary, and sweating, he’s sick with the amount Daniel has drunk and yet-
“A little more.” Armand breathes. Daniel shudders.
“Fucking hell.” He says. “I think we should-“
“I am fine.”
“Armand-“
“I am more than fine.” Armand says.
Daniel feels a hot, sharp pain as Armand pulls his hair, hard, as if to punish him. Daniel almost drops to his knees, which is an entirely disproportionate response and yet it is true, he almost buckles, close to throwing himself at Armand’s feet. Instead he obeys Armand, and tugs the wound back into his mouth. Armand sighs, pleased, even as he trembles with how weak he has become.
How could Daniel ever deny himself this blood? He will be hooked on it for eternity, surely unable to live without it, and though that would give Armand such power over him, Daniel is excited by the idea, enthralled by it. He finds a pleasure in this fantasy that he always pushed down, when he was human. He used young men aggressively to feign control and yet here he is, longing to surrender to Armand completely…
“Fuck.” Daniel says, as he, at last, pulls away from Armand’s neck. Armand is leaning against Daniel to hold him selfup, but even now he grasps at Daniel’s shirt as if to ask for more. “Hey. C’mon. You’re exhausted, Armand, stop.”
Armand hums, and in this softened state he is affectionate, curling his arms around Daniel’s back, burying his face in his shoulder. Daniel breathes out a surprised laugh, and embraces him too. He smooths his hand over Armand’s head, and tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear.
“Beloved.” Armand whispers in his ear, and nothing else. Just the word, then, is enough. Beloved, beloved. It warms Daniel’s heart. He is sure he has heard it before, in the same tone, with the same timber.
Armand pulls back to look at him. In the quiet of the clearing, with the low sun warming them both, he takes Daniel’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, and smiles.
“My beloved.” Armand murmurs. Daniel’s eyes flicker to his lips, and he wants-
Before he can finish the thought, Armand is stroking the pad of his thumb over his chin, and leaning forward to kiss him. Oh, Daniel thinks, his heart stuttering. The kiss is warm and slick and wet, as Armand’s blood is still coating Daniel’s lips, and Daniel melts into it. He forgets, somehow, that it is the first time they have done this. It feels natural, it feels right, as if they have done it a million times before.
Beloved, Daniel thinks, as Armand’s tongue brushes his bottom lip, my beloved. He had never considered that home could be a person. How strange it feels to suddenly realise it is.
Weeks later they are cross legged on a hotel bed, with Armand’s face buried in Daniel’s neck, and his teeth at his throat. When they share blood it is always, always messier than the first time - their clothes become stained with it, their hair matted, their faces smudged and bloodied. Ah, Daniel thinks, it is best when they kiss, best when the blood makes their tongues coppery and hot. Armand likes to suck on his tongue when it’s bloody, likes to kiss him until neither of them can breathe…
Yes, yes, in the first few weeks they are insatiable, as any new couple are, but Daniel can’t see this passion fading in time. It doesn’t feel fickle, doesn’t seem naive; Daniel tries spending time away from Armand just out of curiousity and finds the withdrawal is awful but the boredom is worse, for there is nothing that he encounters that is as fascinating as Armand, nothing as sharp and intelligent and cruel and warm.
In the end, he always ends up here, with Armand murmuring in his ear, telling him he’s so good, telling him to keep going, even when Armand trembles and pales and struggles to stay upright with the loss of blood. Or, on other occasions, it is reversed, and Daniel feels the sting of Armand’s fangs at his throat, and the warm drag of Armand’s tongue over the cut he has made with his teeth, and he surrenders to the feeling of weightlessness and pleasure that feeding born from desire can bring.
So here they are, one night, in the dark of the hotel room, with Armand’s hands sliding beneath Daniel’s shirt. His cold fingers brush over Daniel’s chest, his palms wet with his blood. And here Daniel is, blood still dripping from his chin, sliding his equally bloodied hands through Armand’s hair. He likes the texture of his curls, likes to bury his fingers in them, likes Armand’s reaction, too, when he grazes his nails along his scalp.
It must be nearly morning, now, Daniel thinks. He is full with Armand’s blood, completely and utterly sated, his stomach warm and his smile eternally fixed. It never goes away, now, and he is not used to it, finds himself embarrassed by the joy on his face because he had forgotten what if felt like.
Armand is how he always is, after. mutual feeding, soft and quiet and a little giddy, trailing blood along Daniel’s skin. He hums a song into the quiet, his knees pressed against Daniel’s shins. Daniel has seen Armand vicious and cruel, but often, in times like this, he just seems tender. Sweet, even.
Perhaps this version of him is the soft pillow Louis saw. Maybe Armand was beige and dull through his eyes, but from Daniel’s point of view this tenderness is precious. It is rare, too, and it is something he wants to keep, for Armand has so many masks, so many old skins. This one, it seems, is one of Daniel’s favourites.
Armand looks up at him, and catches his gaze. He smiles, and reaches out, cupping Daniel’s cheek in his hand.
“Ah.” He says. “I cannot read your mind any longer. What are you thinking about?”
Daniel sighs, contended, as Armand runs his bloodied thumb over his cheek. Always so messy, Daniel thinks. Later they will take turns running the shower, watching the crimson water slip down the drain. Never together, not yet, though sometimes - often- no, always, really, if Daniel is honest with himself - he imagines it. Under the steady stream of water, he touches himself, and gets off on the sound of Armand on the other side of the door, pottering around the hotel room as he cleans up.
“How many people,” Daniel asks, “Have you done this with?”
Armand’s runs his thumb again over Daniel’s skin. He tilts his head in the dark as he considers the question.
“I have taken many of our kind to bed.” Armand says. “But few have had my blood. Even fewer I have drank from, for the purpose of pleasure. By the time I lived with Louis, of course, it was a little more natural to me. But before- the hunger for blood was a curse, not an indulgence.”
“Sure.” Daniel says. He can’t quite picture Armand like this with Louis, his crisp shirt thick with blood, his skin smeared with it. “I can’t…”
“Imagine it?” Armand asks. He hums. “You would be correct if you assumed there was less intimacy between myself and Louis. I did not consume blood from him, and he consumed blood from me only as a show of power, as part of our… dynamic.”
“Huh.” Daniel says.
“I do not feed often.” Armand says. His eyes graze the open wound on Daniel’s neck. It’s jagged and rough cut, torn open by Armand’s teeth.
“Louis told me about that.” Daniel says.
“On rare occasions, I indulge.” Armand says. He sighs, ghosts his fingers along Daniel’s jaw, and then to his wound. His fingers dance the edges of the cut, grazing over the tender skin. Daniel hisses, but does not pull away.
“And now?” Daniel says.
“Ah.” Armand hums. “Now I am enjoying myself.”
There is something precious, about this admission. Armand smiles at him.
“Once every few months, perhaps, I hunt.” Armand says. “Sometimes less. A year, I have lasted, once, without much effect on me at all.”
“We’ve done this every fucking day this week.” Daniel says. “Things change, huh?”
“Yes.” Armand says, “Well, I cannot help it. I need the strength, do I not? With how much you take…”
“Ha!” Daniel scoffs. “Only because you beg me to keep going!”
“I do not beg.” Armand says, incredulous. His finger teases a tattered piece of skin on the edge of the wound, and Daniel tries very hard not to moan, but the pain is so exquisite.
“Oh, yeah?” Daniel taunts, just to provoke Armand into edging his nail inside of the wound. Which he does, of course. He is becoming more and more predictable, Daniel thinks.
“You mean to provoke me.” Armand warns. “I would be careful, Daniel.”
“But you do. You beg me for more.” Daniel says. He takes a shaky breath through the pain, enjoys the sharp sting of it. “You’re so needy- Whining in my ear a little more, please, I can take it- Fuck, Armand that hurts. Jesus.”
Armand has ripped the wound open wider with his nail, and blood is spilling over the skin of Daniel’s neck. Armand smiles, sharp as a blade, and Daniel adores him. He can’t help it.
“I fear you have misinterpreted this situation.” Armand says.
“I have?”
Armand’s lips twitch.
“Completely.” Armand says. “If anyone is going to beg, it will be you.”
Fuck, Daniel thinks. He is not strongwilled enough for a statement like this, and starts to grow hard at the thought of being so vulnerable. He pictures himself kneeling at Armand’s feet, begging please, please, please. Desire makes him swallow, and the surface of his skin suddenly feels hot and electric.
Armand, oblivious to Daniel’s thoughts, attends to his wound, again, and slips the tip of his finger back inside.
“Yeah?” Daniel breathes.
He can’t believe he is not denying it. Fucking- Daniel Molloy, who has always been the aggressor, the dominator. He has never allowed anyone else that sort of control over him and yet here he is, welcoming it from Armand, trembling with need at the thought of being so helpless to him. Perhaps it is the blood, or their vampiric bond- or perhaps it is just that Daniel is embracing the parts of himself that no one else has seen.
No one except Armand, who has followed him for a lifetime, and thus knows him in his entirety.
“Mhm.” Armand smiles. “You are mine.”
This, Daniel decides, is completely true. He does not know when Armand possessed him, but he is consumed by him now. His, indeed.
“Beautiful boy.” Armand murmurs. He replaces his finger with his mouth, and drags his lips over the wound, dipping the tip of his tongue inside- Daniel sighs with the ache of it, his eyes fluttering shut.
When Armand rises to kiss him there is something hungrier, about it, something hot and needy. His tongue, maddeningly, teases Daniel, drifting inside and outside of his mouth, never allowing him too much. Through the haze of desire Daniel feels Armand push him backwards, against the bed, but he does not protest even as Armand pins him down, even as he holds his wrists above his head with one hand, even as he leans down to murmur in Daniel’s ear mine, mine, mine
After a few minutes of this, Armand rises to look at him. He says nothing as they stare at each other in the dark, but his grip on Daniel’s wrists tightens. Armand’s fingernails dig into the back of his hand, and it hurts, and Daniel is flushed up to his neck. He is certain Armand must feel his hardness against his thigh.
Daniel cannot break Armand’s gaze. He feels hypnotised by the amber light of his eyes. Armand does not avert his gaze as slides his hand beneath Daniel’s shirt, and drags his fingers over his stomach, his chest. The pad of his finger brushes Daniel’s nipple, and Daniel bites down on his bottom lip, has to look away.
“Fuck.” Daniel says. “Okay. So we’re doing this. Right.”
“You are displeased?” Armand asks, immediately letting go of Daniel’s wrists. Daniel laughs, breathy, and shakes his head.
“Fuck, no.” He says. “Just- God, Armand, I can’t even look at you.”
He can’t. Armand is so beautiful, so impossibly beautiful, and it is not just his outer skin, it is all of him in his entirety, however grotesque that may be. Daniel turns his face away. He is sure everything he feels is written in his expression.
“Do you want me, Daniel?” Armand asks. His voice is quiet, cautious, as if he is expecting Daniel to say no. It startles Daniel, bringing him back to the present moment. He turns his head, and meets Armand’s gaze.
“Are you kidding?” He asks. “Look at me!”
Armand’s lips twitch.
“You are rather… compromised.”
“I’m exactly where I want to be.” Daniel says. He lifts his hips, so that his hardness brushes Armand’s thigh more firmly. Armand bites down on his smile, rocks his thigh against Daniel in response. Oh, Daniel thinks, as a wave of pleasure warms him, we really are doing this.
“Yeah?” Armand drawls.
“Yeah.” Daniel breathes. Armand’s eyes spark with curiosity. He rocks his thigh against Daniel’s hardness, again, more firmly now, pressing against him, a maddening rhythm. “Fuck. Want you so bad.”
“Do you know how long it has been,” Armand’s voice is thick with feeling, and Daniel’s lays his hands on his hips, in response. It is a grounding touch. “Since someone said that to me, and meant it?”
“I mean it.” Daniel says. “I really fucking mean it.”
“…I know.” Armand says, and his eyes burn, and Daniel softens, rubs his thumb over his hips, a soothing, gentle touch.
“Armand.” He murmurs. “Want you. Please.”
Armand lets out a shaky breath. He cups Daniel’s face in his free hand, and kisses him sweetly, with so much emotion that Daniel feels it in his own heart, too.
“Mine.” Armand says, but his tone rises at the end, like a question, as if he does not believe it-
Fuck, Daniel’s already had his hands pinned, he’s already chasing the friction of Armand’s thigh, he may as well say it.
“Yours.” He says.
Armand rewards him with this wonderful smile, and it is worth the humiliation. No, Daniel thinks, fuck it, he likes the humiliation. He likes surrendering to Armand entirely. He likes the way it makes Armand happy, the way it makes him feel loved. Someone wants him enough to give in to him. What a glorious thing.
“Say it again.” Armand says. His voice is more steady, now.
“Yours.” Daniel repeats, and his voice cracks around the word. “Fuck. Please. Just- Whatever you want, Armand, anything, please, please. I’m yours.”
Daniel’s reward, for his compliance, is a long, slow kiss. He melts, loses himself in it, opens his mouth so Armand can lick inside of it. Armand, his moment of weakness forgotten, starts to touch him again, his finger grazing over Daniel’s hard nipple, circling it, teasing it, grazing it with his nail. Daniel bucks his hips, chasing the pressure of Armand’s thigh between his legs, but Armand denies him it, pins his legs down with his own. Daniel makes a noise of protest in his throat, and Armand pulls back from the kiss to smile at him.
“Who is whining now?” Armand murmurs, and Daniel bites his lip. “Use your words, Daniel.”
Daniel tries to catch his breath. He bucks his hips again, chasing friction, and Armand hisses, punishes him by squeezing his nipple hard between his fingers. Daniel truly does whine, this time.
“A darling noise.” Armand hums. “Words, please, Daniel.”
“Need you.” Daniel says, hoarse and cracked. ‘‘Mand.”
“Lovely boy.” Armand murmurs. His fingers move to Daniel’s collar, where he begins to unbutton his bloodstained shirt. He pulls it open, and then focuses on his trousers, drags them over his legs, throws them aside.
Daniel shivers, completely bare in the dark aside from his underwear. Armand appraises him, his eyes drifting over his skin. At last, he acts, once more taking Daniel’s wrists in one hand, and pinning them above his head. Daniel forgets how to breathe. He does not know how he will survive this.
“Ah.” Armand murmurs. He grazes his free hand over Daniel’s hip, curling his fingers over the creased skin. “I love you. Do you know that?”
Daniel can only hold Armand’s gaze. He thinks he could believe, in this moment, that there is love between them. What else could it be, this vulnerability, this exchange of blood and intimacy between them?
Armand fingers trail over his stomach, back to his chest.
“I’ve watched you make love,” Armand says, grazing one of Daniel’s nipples with his fingers, “I’ve watched you fuck, so many times before. You were always so rough, Daniel, in your need for control. How aggressive you were, to those boys you took. When you were inside of them, I often imagined what it would be like to make you-“
Armand twists his nipple between his fingers, and Daniel gasps, bucking his hips. Armand smiles.
“Tremble.” He breathes. “Just like they did.”
Armand leans down, and brushes his tongue over Daniel’s nipple. The lightest touch of Armand’s fangs, sharp as they graze the tender skin, is enough to make Daniel bite down on a moan. When Armand finally wraps his mouth around his nipple, and sucks it between his tongue and teeth, Daniel loses all self consciousness, and does moan, low in his throat. He bucks his hips again, hard now, and his wrists strain against Armand’s grip-
As punishment Armand drags his fingernail over the skin of Daniel’s hip as he teases his nipple with his tongue. He draws blood, and it distracts Armand. He is drawn to it immediately, and moves down Daniel’s body, runs his tongue along the cut to taste Daniel’s blood.
“Ah.” He murmurs. His fangs rest lightly against the graze. “Your blood. There is nothing like it.”
Daniel gasps as Armand sinks his teeth into his hip. As he drinks, he runs his nails over the inside of Daniel’s thighs, teases him, and Daniel cannot think clearly, anymore, with the pleasure of blood and the physical intimacy overcoming him. At last, Armand pulls back. He meets Daniel’s gaze, runs his tongue over his bottom lip to taste the blood there. Daniel, wide-eyed, is awed by him. Fucking hell, he thinks. He has never seen anything more attractive.
“Ask for it.” Armand says. He ghosts his hand over Daniel’s hardness, through the fabric, so lightly that Daniel hisses and bucks his hips to chase the touch.
“Please.” Daniel breathes.
“What is it that you want? Tell me.”
“Touch me.” Daniel says.
“What else?”
“Armand.” Daniel cannot bear it any longer. “Fuck me, please.”
Armand laughs, delighted.
“That did not take long.” He says.
Armand is a merciful God - he responds immediately, strokes Daniel’s hardness over the top of the fabric, slow and firm. The friction is unbearable, and Daniel whines, bites down so hard on his bottom lip that he draws blood. Armand laughs, again, and kisses him, brushing his tongue over the wound to taste the blood there. God, Daniel thinks, God, as Armand drags his nails over the top of the fabric.
“Need you.” Daniel breathes. “Please.”
“Ah.” Armand hums, and tugs at the edge of Daniel’s underwear. He teases his navel with his fingers, drags the pads of his fingers over the grey hair. “You are pathetic.”
“Yes.” Daniel agrees.
Amused by this, Armand smiles, and lifts his hand to his own mouth. He drags his teeth along his skin, opens a thin cut- and then he grips Daniel’s cock in his hand as the blood begins to drip, coating Armand’s hand and fingers in blood. Enough, Daniel thinks, to lubricate, and then he loses rationale thought, because Armand is pumping him, slow and easy, sliding his hand up and down the length of his cock and making him tremble.
“Fuck.” Daniel hisses. “Oh, fuck, yes. Please.”
Armand hums, pleased, and buries his face in Daniel’s neck. He pierces Daniel’s neck with his teeth, drinks again, and it is wondrous to know Armand shares the enormity of his desire, that he is unable to sate his hunger no matter how much they devour each other.
Heat builds in Daniel’s stomach as Armand pumps him faster, harder. He trembles, aches with desire, longs for a release. Armand seems to sense it, and lets go of his hands.
“Do not touch.” He warns, though his voice is shaky, breathy with exertion and warm with desire. “Until I ask you to.”
Daniel listens, and keeps his hands still above his head even as Armand pulls down his own trousers, even as he reveals his leaking cock from beneath his underwear, even as he grips it in his other hand, positions himself close to Daniel, and then strokes himself. Armand closes his eyes, pumps them both in rhythm, and makes this glorious moan. Daniel almost comes on the spot, at the sound of it.
At last, Armand grabs one of his hands from above his head, and allows Daniel to touch him.
“Fuck.” Daniel moans, as Armand guides his hand to his cock, as he shows him the right movements, the right rhythm. “You- Ah. You feel so good. Oh, fuck.”
They stroke each other at the same time, fast and hot and messy, and as the warmth of pleasure builds between them Armand’s gaze meets his and it feels as if they are the only beings in the entire universe. Daniel knows, when he looks into those wide eyes, that this moment is special. He has been allowed this vulnerability, from Armand. He is seeing him without his skin.
“Mm.” Armand moans, closes his eyes, rocks into Daniel’s hand. The uneven pace, the friction of their hands and their bodies- It is overwhelming. “I love you.”
Daniel shudders. He closes his eyes too, and feels desire and hunger and tenderness consume him.
“Love you.” He murmurs back, without hesitation, and perhaps this is too much for Armand, because he comes immediately upon hearing it, spilling over Daniel’s stomach with a gasp. Daniel watches him in awe, strokes him gently as he comes down, his own cock still hard and leaking and coated with blood and desperate for release-
Armand collapses against him, and slows his rhythm around Daniel’s cock to a tantalising pace.
“Do you mean it?” Armand asks, quietly. He drags his nails over the length of his cock, right to the tip-
“Ah.” Daniel, breathily, tries to speak, but a moan interrupts him. He tries again. “God, yes, Armand. Love you.”
Armand bites his shoulder, gently, in response, like a tiger cub. He builds up the pace of his hand again as Daniel trembles.
“Say it again.” Armand murmurs.
“Love you.” Daniel breathes. “So much, Armand.”
“Ah.” Armand makes a pained sound. “Daniel, I-“
Armand shudders. Through his haze of pleasure Daniel opens his eyes, and sees Armand is crying, just a little, his eyes red with tears. Daniel softens, pulling Armand closer in his arms. This, Daniel thinks, is so completely unexpected. This is a version of Armand he has never met before.
“Hey.” He murmurs. “Hey, don’t cry.”
Armand buries his face in his neck, and Daniel feels the dampness of his tears there, bloodying his skin. He runs his fingers through Armand’s hair, to soothe him.
“We can stop.” Daniel says. He is never so gentle, in sex, never this tender. He has been unaffected by tears in the past. But here, now, he loves Armand so much that he can’t bear to see him cry.
“No.” Armand whispers. “You misunderstand. I am-“
A pause. There is silence, for a moment, and then-
“I am happy.” Armand breathes. “That is all.”
Daniel’s heart turns over.
“Ah.” He smiles, and presses a kiss to the side of Armand’s head. “Right.”
“Yes.” Armand says. “Come here. I want you terribly. My beautiful boy. I’ll hold you.”
He recovers himself, rising a little from Daniel’s embrace to run the pad of his finger along his bloodied wrist. Daniel wonders what he is doing- until-
“Oh.” Daniel moans as Armand circles his hole with his finger. The blood is slick, and wet, and Daniel is stricken to realise he wants Armand inside of him more than he has ever wanted anything.
Their eyes meet again, in the dark, as Armand slips his finger inside- Only, it is not so dark, now, for the sun is rising, and it casts Armand in a glow of light. Daniel gazes at him and thinks that he loves him terribly. He thinks, too, as he is filled by another of Armand’s fingers, that perhaps the blood wasn’t the point after all. Perhaps Armand did all of this so that Daniel would love him.
But none of it - the sun, the blood, the kissing, the sex- none of it was necessary. Daniel was bound to love him anyway, even in his old skin, even wearing a mask or performing an act, even when they had not met yet. It was inevitable.
“Please.” Daniel murmurs, “Need you. Love you.”
Armand, for once, does not tease. He pulls out his fingers, and grasps onto his hips, pushing himself inside. Daniel gasps, suddenly gloriously full with Armand’s cock. Wet, hot, messy. He could not imagine anything better.
“Ah.” Armand breathes. He rocks his hips, and Daniel moans, lifting his hips to match it. Of course, they are in sync. Of course. It is perfection.
They move together, and Daniel embraces Armand, wraps his arms around his neck. He bites into Armand’s neck, drinks because he knows this will please him. Oh, it does, it does - Armand gasps, and thrusts a little harder, a little faster.
“Fuck.” Daniel moans. He moves his hands to hold Armand’s hips, guides him closer, deeper, until Armand is pounding into him, until they seem to merge into one. It is unimaginably pleasurable, the heat between their bodies, the fullness Daniel feels, the wet and breathy sounds in the hotel room as Armand makes love to him. Daniel has never felt anything like it. The blood in his mouth and the feeling of Armand inside of him… It is heaven.
“Beloved.” Armand breathes in his ear. His hand has scrambled in the space between their bodies to grip Daniel’s cock, to stroke him as they move together. “I feel- This is-“
“Yeah.” Daniel murmurs against his bloody skin, cracked and honest, and then he kisses the wound on Armand’s neck. “Yeah- fucking- Oh, God. Fucking perfect. Love you. Armand. I love you.”
Armand moans, and Daniel moans with him, his pleasure so intense now it almost overflows.
“I do love you.” Armand whispers to him, teary again, his hair falling over his face in the light, “I have never felt- Oh, I- Not the way I have with you- Ah, Daniel-“
Daniel kisses him, sweetly, close and warm, and Armand shudders and comes inside of him, warm and full. The sounds he makes- The feeling of intimacy and closeness- Daniel follows suit, comes too, with more warmth and more pleasure than he has felt in, God, decades. It bursts out of him in waves and waves and he rides it as Armand smooths his hand over his hair and murmurs I love you I love you I love you all of the way through it.
Afterwards they curl into each other, bloody and content. Armand pulls him so very close, tucks his face into his neck, allows no space between their bodies. Daniel breathes him in. He is hooked, he thinks, on this, on Armand. Never just the blood.
Sunlight falls on their skin, illuminates them.
“Meant it.” Daniel murmurs, because he knows it will mean more in the light, now that their breathing has settled, now that they are thinking clearly. Armand inhales a shaky breath and grasps him, pulls him impossibly closer. “I love you, Armand.”
It is so very true. In every form, in every shape, in any skin, Daniel loves Armand. It does not matter how he transforms. Let him shift under the light, Daniel thinks, let him change himself. It does not matter in which way he contorts himself, if he peels back his skin or devours parts of himself he does not like. Let him be grotesque or warm or cruel or loving or funny or intelligent or a fucking nightmare. Let him be whatever he needs to be. Daniel will love him anyway.