Chapter Text
They’ve been playing for a while. Daniel’s mouth is bloody.
“More.”
“Still more, my greedy boy?”
Daniel nods hungrily, wipes at a stray drop that’s running down his lip, like he isn’t red from mouth to chest anyway. He’s high on Armand’s blood and sloppy drunk.
“Admit why you want it and I may acquiesce.”
Daniel considers taking it by force. How far would he get? An inch? Less? Armand’s eyes narrow with danger and delight.
Daniel growls, pressing his hand over his maker’s perfect, know-all face while grinding down with his hips.
He hasn’t said what he’s planning tonight, who he wants to ‘visit’. No need. They both know. Yet acknowledging it out loud feels too much like confirming Armand was right. Right with certain insinuations he’s been making about Daniel’s preoccupation with the boy.
Armand bites viciously into the palm covering his face and Daniel feels the hot gush of his own blood. He smears it across his maker’s face.
They’re circling around it, what this is really about, the sense of peeling away the layers so satisfying it’s tactile. Neither of them have got off yet, not in the traditional sense. It’s not even about that, whilst also being extremely about that. It’s their favorite type of sex; where they fuck with each others’ minds just as much as their bodies.
Daniel contemplates what he wants to say, what he’s prepared to admit. You already know why I need it, he thinks, and Armand smiles indulgently, like he heard the thought, this look a further challenge, maybe even a dare. What does he want to hear? Give me your blood, so I can go fuck someone else? You’re right, I want him – back then – like that – just like you did. How about I make him my boy, instead of yours?
He bends to lick along Armand’s jawline, because he knows; that’s exactly what he wants to hear. All of that and more.
Armand’s looking mouthwatering, especially now he’s messy. Even in the chaos of this much blood and this much lust, that look remains; a taunting superiority. It drives Daniel mad. He wraps a hand around Armand’s lithe little neck about it, leans over him, pressing his weight down. I have other ways of getting what I want from you, he thinks.
Keeping his grip tight, he shuffles back on Armand’s thighs, so they’re no longer aligned dick to dick. As good as that was, he’s keen to remove the distraction of his own stimulation. It gives him better access too, more options.
He exploits all of it, his teasing meticulous and cruel. It’s good. He’s good. They’re so fucking good at this together.
“Harder,” Armand chokes out after some time.
Daniel’s fangs are visible and bloody when he smiles, mulling over the request. He has both hands on Armand; the left still wrapped around his neck and his right around his erection.
He tightens the left.
Armand’s entire body convulses, so Daniel does it again, harder.
Then something snaps and Daniel jerks both hands away in shock.
Armand has an urgent moment of something, scrambling to get his own hands on his dick. He squeezes hard, closes his eyes and exhales a long shaky breath. When his eyes flutter back open, he looks exhilarated.
He takes a moment to wet his lips, then gasps when something in his neck cracks.
“That would have killed him, darling.” He says serenely, in a voice that’s wrecked.
Silence.
“Does my fledgling not know his own strength?”
Daniel opens his mouth, but doesn’t speak, rubs a hand down his face instead, getting it bloody by accident. He can see the fracture, watches keenly as Armand’s cervical spine shifts back into alignment.
“You think I need a lesson?” he asks, still staring, fascinated. “On what? How to avoid accidentally fucking a mortal to death?”
“I do have some very specific experience in this area.”
“Don’t you just..”
After a moment’s thought however, Daniel finds himself warming to the idea. “You know what? If you’re gonna be my professor, I could make the effort.”
“I’m pleased to hear that, my boy.” Armand replies, almost purring. “You always were an apt pupil.”
“Yeah, I’m a regular teacher’s pet.”
“Sounds delightful.”
“I can show you right now.”
“Tempting, but perhaps you should save your energy for.. my other pet.”
Daniel had resumed teasing at his own dick, almost without thought. He stops.
“Daniel, it is my duty as your maker to encourage your education, to instill within you a thirst and desire for all knowledge and experience, wherever you may find it.. or with whom.” He sneaks one of his busy little fingers to Daniel’s ass, tapping at his rim while he continues; “As Aristotle said, ‘knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.’”
“I’m pretty sure that was Barack Obama.”
Armand drops his role (and the finger) in surprise and Daniel thrills at the minor victory, particularly at the glimpse of Armand’s rapidly suppressed smile, visible for just a moment, before he’s dismissing the interruption, like Daniel’s some irritating gnat.
Daniel’s grinning. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re condescending,” he says. “Tell me something else an old dead guy said.”
Armand looks pleased. “More Aristotle?”
“Dealer’s choice.”
“‘To learn is a natural pleasure, not confined to philosophers, but common to all men.’”
“Mmm, sounds good.” Daniel leers, “I could just eat you up Professor Molloy. I bet your brain tastes amazing.”
The new surname works, as Daniel knew it would (on both of them, as it happens), and for a prolonged moment, Armand looks wildly lascivious, like he’s a second from demanding: ‘Yes! Fucking do it! Devour me!’ But then he sits up, readopts the familiar airs – nose in the air – and cuts a perfectly perpendicular line along his wrist. He offers it up to Daniel. “Allow me to furnish my eager scholar with the required accoutrements for his academic endeavors.”
Daniel watches the blood run, laughs. “You sound like mommy, packing an apple and pencil in my satchel, before sending me off on the school trip.”
Armand smiles. “I’ll expect your report in due course, Daniel. Earn your place at the top of my class, yes?” Daniel’s breath catches and Armand’s smile grows. “My first-born, my prodigy.”
“Fuck, yes! Yes, sir.”
-
Twenty minutes later, he’s climbing into the coffin and then..
-
.. he’s there, looking at the boy.
He’s asleep, naked. Did you do that for me? Daniel thinks, then; no, of course he didn’t. He probably didn’t.
Daniel takes a seat at the desk, just to look. He can see perfectly in the dark now and it’s always fun to indulge his new gifts.
The extra sensitive receptors in his nose are tingling with stimulation. From the naked body comes the scent of sweat, smoke, semen and blood. Clinging to the discarded clothes are the smells of the city, the train, other people, their perfume and grime. The room itself has the pervading odor of sticky sweet marijuana, cut sharply with hard liquor.
The boy is sleeping on his side, his right leg raised and bent at the knee. There’s a thin sheet draped over the lower half of his body, the remaining covers bunched at the bottom of the bed. Daniel looks over the exposed skin. He’s thinking of the way the boy undressed him that night. The saucer eyed wonder with which he examined his own aged body. The way he’d grabbed thick handfuls of Daniel’s flesh, groped and squeezed at his thighs and belly. Daniel finds himself keen to return the favor. All the places that, as an old man, have gone loose and soft, he wants to feel again, as they were; tight and hard. He wants to remember how this taut skin responds when pulled and pushed.
He’s also thinking of the tapes he’d watched with Armand recently. Tapes that showcased this body in all its overstimulated intensity. It completes some kind of perfectly perverse circle to have watched the boy touching himself in those videos, to now find himself here, wanting to touch again. Daniel and Daniel, touching himself over and over, wanting more, always.
He leans forward to lightly tug at the sheet, drawing it all the way off the boy’s body. His eyes are drawn to the firm ass and well defined back. He recalls that night again, the moment he’d been sat on the bed, watching these muscles flex as the boy bounced and rolled his hips on Armand’s lap, the way his thighs shook with the strain of keeping his legs wide and balanced. Daniel studies those same thighs, spread again, only this time in sleep. He lowers and tilts his head for an impossible view of his own most intimate angle. He’s only objectifying himself, right?
His dick is so hard it’s distracting. He cups it while picturing touching and licking the boy, just there. He wants to penetrate him, fuck him. He’d been so distracted by Armand – by the chaos and drama of all of it back then – that he forgot to savor the feeling. Can he remember how this body responded to him, how it felt inside? Can he remember the sounds he made? It’s not fair that he doesn’t. Not fair on either of them really. Because the boy deserves to get fucked like he’s the only one in the world, never mind the room. And Daniel can give him that. He should. He wants to.
He stands – remembering to avoid the loose floorboard this time – and efficiently removes his own clothes. His dick looks great, so hard it’s at a right angle to his body. It casts the most obscene Nosferatu shadow across the wall as he moves, and Daniel wants to laugh.
He slips into the bed, so they’re close but not touching. The boy smells so strongly now, that Daniel’s sure he can taste it. He’s hot and clammy, breathing deeply in his sleep.
He extends his right hand and hovers it just above the boy’s skin, moving it to trace the peaks and valleys of his body; comparing and contrasting. Heat from the younger body transfers to Daniel's own cold fingers, despite the fact he's not quite touching, and it feels like an invitation for more, like the boy's body is reaching out to him, even in sleep.
Before long then, he’s allowing his fingers to brush lightly over body hair, where it’s longest, and that’s enough to have the boy rousing. Daniel holds him under with his mind, nothing forceful, just a gentle suggestion to remain in that soft, contended space between sleep and waking. Daniel’s aware of how quickly things can get off-track, can get loud and frantic, when the boy is awake, when he’s talking a million miles a minute and demanding things. Even now, his mind is rapidly acclimatizing, surprised and then excited when he realizes he’s not alone.
Daniel permits him a touch of autonomy, enough to feel and think freely and to move a little. The boy murmurs, tightening and relaxing his muscles, toes curling, stretching his spine and rolling his neck.
His mind races from zero to a hundred in a roar of rushing blood once he realizes he’s being held immobile, actively prevented from moving further. He cannot speak. His mind illuminates like the front of an old movie theater; Armand’s name in blinking lights.
Ah, of course.
Daniel hadn’t even considered that. Of course the boy would assume Armand is responsible, that he’s the one in control here.
And what would Armand do now – the cruel, part-time lover he was then? How would he chose to torture his boy – his dirty little secret – tonight?
Daniel turns away from the question, finding it suddenly irrelevant.
Instead he touches, properly now, with just the tip of one finger. He’s retracing the path he’s already mapped.
In response, young Daniel’s mind unfurls, elastic with both arousal and the malleability of the weed still in his system. To Daniel, he rolls too far away, becomes too unfocused. In order to reel him back in, he burrows into the boy’s neck, tonguing at their shared scar. It’s an action that causes his body to stiffen and for Daniel’s own name to sparkle sharply into view in his mind, right alongside Armand’s.
The kid doesn’t know which of them is touching him now, which one is pinning him in place with their power. Without that knowledge, he doesn’t know what he’s in for, what’s going to happen to him next, and he loves it.
Young Daniel is attempting to differentiate between Armand and Daniel by smell. It’s comical, doubly amusing in fact, because even if Daniel has a corporeal smell here, it would surely be indistinguishable from his maker’s, or so he hopes. Try harder kid, he thinks, as the boy whines. He’s trying desperately to move, fighting hard mentally for more control of his body – so he can turn and look – or reach and feel – even just reach and touch himself – get some relief from the ache he’s feeling.
Daniel savors the effect he’s having on the boy and also on himself. Though he’s not biting, he’s astounded to find it almost as arousing, to slot his own fangs into the indents already on the kid’s neck. It’s knowing that, of the three vampires who have had this boy between their teeth, his own claim is supreme. Always will be.
The sensation of licking, nibbling and sucking at the scar’s perimeter has both of them imagining being eaten out. When Daniel realizes they’re both thinking it, he commits and sucks even harder. That in turn has him recalling the time they'd last been together, when he’d sought out and found the taste of Armand’s come in the boy’s ass.
Fuck. One of the hottest things he's ever done.
He only just prevents himself groaning, nearly revealing his identity and ending the game prematurely. It’s almost too much, yet he can’t resist piggybacking the experience from the boy’s perspective too. It’s immediately all consuming, feels like melting, as though everything else dissolves, except for the irresistible pull of pleasure, centered on the neck yes, but spreading through every cell with an intensity that’s teetering on orgasmic. It radiates between them, so they’re one and the same, sharing this and feeling it from both sides. That really is too much and Daniel’s control lapses. He surges forward, needing to press them together head to toe, while simultaneously losing his grip on the boy’s mind.
Young Daniel jerks, gasps in relief, then before he knows what’s happening, he’s coming – to the surprise of them both.
“Daniel,” the boy moans, as he rides the feeling.
“The very same.” Daniel breathes eagerly into his neck. He almost asks what gave him away. Like he doesn’t know it was the moment Daniel pressed them together, the boy recognizing the heft and weight of his own outstanding dick, that got him off. God, the ego on this kid. Daniel wants to eat him up, wants to take him home and study him, play with him like he’s a doll.
“You’re so sexy,” he whispers into the boy’s ear. “Look what you just did. Came at the touch of your own dick and with your own name on your lips.”
Young Daniel murmurs, beyond speech.
“I’ve been thinking about you so much, it’s crazy.” Daniel rushes on breathlessly. “There’s so much I want to do to you. So much I could do – and you’d like it – you’d love it. I want to teach you things. Things you don’t even know you like yet. Like I’m goddamn corrupting you. Is that messed up?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I want to overwhelm you, torture you, humiliate you. I wanna kill anyone else that touches you. And you know what, unlike him, I’d even let you watch. You’d love that baby, right? My beautiful, cruel, perverted boy.”
Young Daniel tries to move, attempts to turn around, but Daniel holds him firm, this time with his hands.
“Daniel? What’s going on?” The boy asks. He’s wondering why Daniel is behaving so differently. It feels dangerous, but it feels exciting too.
“Do you think of me too?” The elder Daniel asks, “I bet you climb into bed, close your eyes and hope you’ll wake up with me here with you, huh? Just like this.” He takes a hold of the pert little ass, just like he wanted, kneading and squeezing. “Do you touch yourself and imagine it? How many times have you laid where we are now and done that, wishing it was me touching you? Imagined me sinking my teeth into you? Sinking this cock into you? Is the answer on these sheets, you horny little fucker?”
The boy squirms and Daniel knows he’s getting hard again already. “I want you to think of it.” He instructs. “After tonight, when I’ve gone, think about what you want me to do to you next time, yeah? All of your dirty, fucked up fantasies. All of it. Then, when I’m here, you can tell me all about it. Tell me what you want. Can you do that? For me?”
“I don’t.. oh, fuck.. yeah.”
“Yeah, you can. And whatever it is, I’ll do it for you, okay? Anything. If there’s something you can’t tell anyone else, something you think you can’t ask them for; ask me. Hey,” Daniel says laughing, “I’m your sex genie, babyboy, and I’m here to grant your every wish.”
“Daniel.. shut the fuck up, man. Why are you being like this?”
Because I’m you, Daniel thinks, his thoughts running free and fast. Not a different version of you; you. Just like it was him all along. It was us, Daniel thinks, because it’s always going to be us and that's awesome and infinite. I did it all for us, you and me, to give you everything you wanted, the future you wanted. I know you’re struggling and you're lonely, but it will be okay. You can trust me. You are not lost. I'm with you now. I wish I could show you, make you feel it, that I’ve got you. I wish I knew how. You’re insane and irresistible and bright and important in all the best fucking ways and you should know that. You should feel good and valued. I want you and I want to be you. And you want me and you want to be me. And we are all those things at once and it’s perfect.
“I don’t know, man,” he says. “I’m just into you.”
The boy wriggles free – grimaces at the sensation of the wet mess on his skin – and then rolls over, finally able to stare, which he does, in bewilderment.
“Hello handsome.”
“What the hell, man?”
“I know.” Daniel replies. “It’s wild, right?”
“You’re asking me?” The boy replies incredulously.
“I guess I am.”
“Are you loaded?”
“No, but you are. I can smell it. I can feel it in your mind. Why?”
“Why not?”
“You know, you’ve been high every time I’ve come to you.”
A pause.
“Do you think that’s how it works?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe it puts you in a different head-space where I can reach you.” Daniel wonders if he gets high on Armand’s blood in the same way the kid gets high on whatever and it puts them on the same mental plane, like maybe it thins the membrane separating them in their brains.
He’s too horny for quantum physics, or whatever the fuck, but he can take the thought home for later.
“What’s going on, really?” the boy asks. “You’ve never been.. like this.”
“Pretty sure I have. And what? I can’t be into this? You are.”
“Yeah and you made me feel like a freak for it.”
“You are a freak.”
Young Daniel raises an eyebrow sarcastically, making them look even more alike, despite the age gap.
Daniel brushes the kid’s feelings; he reads as uncomfortable sure, but that seems to be mostly a sensory thing, a preoccupation with the spunk drying on his belly and pubic hair. Daniel disengages from the feeling, determined to extinguish any self-consciousness the boy feels about the intensity and consequences of his own admirable libido.
“I got off thinking about you yesterday.” He says conspiratorially.
The boy looks away, blushing and rolling his eyes, but he can’t resist looking back with a smug smile.
“I wasn’t alone.”
A gasp.
Daniel grins. He runs his fingers through the mess the boy is so worried about, brings a wet finger to his own mouth and makes the boy wait while he licks it clean.
“Yeah, kid, we fuck and think about you.. talk about you.”
“Armand?”
“Course, who else? He been around for you lately?”
“About a month ago, maybe longer.”
“Poor baby. How long since you saw me?”
“Bit more.”
They stare at one another, each remembering the specifics of last time, the three of them and what they did. Daniel learns which parts the boy chooses to dwell on, and wow, he really is a visual thinker. He isn’t sure he fully appreciated that about himself until now. The kid is picturing the two of them blowing each other while Armand watched.
“But what if I want to keep you for myself now?”
“I am yourself, dickhead.”
“Mmm, fuck, I know.” Daniel springs up and across the sweaty body, shuffling until he’s able to lick up the rest of the mess.
“Oh fuck!” The boy yelps.
Daniel rolls the taste on his tongue; certainly less iron and more salt than he’s used to. It’s an invigoratingly nostalgic taste none the less, exciting because he’d gone through a whole phase in his teens of being stupidly horny for the taste of his own come. It had felt dramatically taboo to him back then. A gateway drug of sorts – motherfucking gateway jizz – for a lifetime spent greedy for bodily fluids. Funny how it’s ended in a death dependent on them. It feels poetic, and maybe that’s the writer in him, or else it’s simply typical of the way his life tends to arrange itself into the craziest, most extreme manifestations of his own hedonism.
He re-emerges from between the other Daniel’s legs looking pleased with himself. The boy however won’t meet his eyes, pushes his own hand over Daniel’s face to block out the scrutiny.
“Don’t look at me,” the kid says, cringing, “so fucking embarrassing.”
Daniel sucks in the stubby little fingers trying to cover his face. They automatically go for their favorite bits, rubbing against Daniel’s fangs, stroking them, feeling their length and sharpness. It feels fucking amazing for Daniel and it seems rude not to share the sensation.
“Oh my – jesus christ!” Young Daniel exclaims. Then in his mind; ‘what the fuck? How does this get even better? What the fuck.. what the fuck.. oh my god.. it feels like stroking my – wait – why has Armand never told me it feels like this?’
Daniel scoffs. He imagines the slippery bastard didn’t want to give the kid that power over him, the ability to knowingly withhold this pleasure, or use it to manipulate him during one of their endless sex/fights, which Daniel knows he absolutely would have done.
Younger Daniel pauses his feeling up of the fangs, staring blankly, seemingly overcome with the new revelation. Daniel gives him a quick nip to the forefinger to get him back on track. The boy jumps with shock and delight, snapping back into action, then groaning at the second-hand sensation. Daniel considers the multidimensional layers of masturbation happening right now. He hopes Kellogg is rolling in his puritanical grave somewhere.
Then he remembers what the boy said. He spits the fingers out, holds the hand down, when it tries to push back in. “Why was it embarrassing?”
“Coming before you even touched me, like some randy teenager.”
“One; I was touching you, had been touching you - just not your dick. Hate to tell you kid, but if you’re concentrating on just the one erogenous zone, you’re kinda missing out. Two; I’m familiar with you as a ‘randy’ teenager and that wasn’t even close. Not a ripe fruit in sight.”
“Fuck you.”
The boy realizes what he’s said and smirks, raises his eyebrows suggestively.
“Down boy.”
“What? You know you want it. What else was all that shit you were just saying?”
“Hey, maybe I’ve got higher standards now. Maybe that Big Mac you’re so proud of seems a bit inadequate, when I’ve got sirloin at home, remember? How do you expect to compare, kid? Think how young you are in comparison. So inexperienced baby, with so much to learn.”
When the boy remains silent a touch too long, Daniel checks in, to discover he’s in the middle of an insane thought process. He’s deducing that Daniel is probably right. And then he gets humiliated by the fact that turns him on, to have his own sexual inadequacies pointed out. And then he’s picturing the ‘sirloin’ in action; Armand fucking older Daniel expertly and luxuriously, and that just pours fuel on the fire he’s got simmering, until it’s just about ready to explode.
His big eyes fix on Daniel with renewed fervor. Then he pounces. Presses his mouth to Daniel’s, kissing him frantically and with far too much tongue. Daniel pulls him off by the hair.
“You know, people have been obsessed with yanking at these curls my whole life.” Daniel says conversationally, and the boy attempts a nod, only for it to pull his hair tighter. He takes a sharp breath through his nose. “And I think I finally get it.”
“Let me! Let me try,” the boy demands, wriggling free and then into Daniel’s lap. He licks his lips and clutches a fist full of white hair. He tugs at the roots and the elder Daniel groans.
“Feels good, yeah?”
“Feels good, yeah.”
The boy is looking near delirious with want and Daniel knows he would do anything for him right now.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah?” the boy replies.
“You wanna remind me how good I look riding dick?”