Chapter Text
Armand woke up wanting.
He often woke up hungry, but he rarely wanted. Hunger was natural for a vampire — the simmering kind of background noise to which he was accustomed. It started out as ignorable, only a tickle at his scalp. Barely even a gnat in his peripheral vision. After, it strengthened, growing and growing over the course of weeks until Armand noticed his fingers twitching at his sides. Then he would want. Want for blood, for a quantity of it, for a challenging chase and an earned kill, for a mortal’s final exhale. He wanted only for simple things he himself could provide.
The morning before, he had gone to coffin barely cognizant of his hunger. When he woke, it was as if a rat had crawled down his esophagus and began gnawing at his insides. He felt it deep in his stomach and all up his throat, that absence of something that was once there. His flesh. Something else. Either way, it was taking hold, making a home for itself, forcing him to choke on his own ever-growing void. This was a want quickly transforming into a need. For blood, yes, but also for touch. Lips pressed against his own. Hands on his waist. He needed something to do, something to make everything right.
Louis was not home. Louis had rarely been home this year, sent away by the cool winds and not yet carried back by the sun and heat. And anyway, as of late it seemed that his only requests were ones not meant for Armand.
So, once again, his thoughts drifted back to the boy. His boy. The one who called himself a reporter, with the sweet blood and the terrified-excited expressions, who longed for Armand in his mind but never aloud.
He had much going on in his mind. And he fancied himself able to keep it there, for him alone, even though Armand had explained a few times how he could read thoughts as easily as a book. Daniel’s thoughts in particular might as well have been printed in large font, or maybe on a billboard.
Now, in the dark of his coffin, his mind wandered to that little detail always lurking beneath the waters of Daniel’s conscious.
If he was like Daniel, if he had a pussy, what would that feel like? To be open there.
He tried to picture it, his hand naturally cupping himself through his pants as if to blot out his prick. His palm was cold but inside Daniel it would be warm — blistering, even. He remembered the hot fount of blood pouring from his neck and imagined the veins that carried it there. The channels that climbed and branched within his body like tendrils of ivy, all clustered together right at the core of him, so close to the surface under such thin skin. Astoundingly vulnerable. How could Daniel bear it?
To have that void filled, perhaps over-filled, and that heat siphoned away by Armand’s icy chill — slick and close and so, so intimate. It’d be ecstasy.
It wasn’t a new thought. Armand hadn’t thought anything new to himself in centuries. But it had been a long, long time since he had thoughts like this.
Armand’s hips canted into his hand, seeking relief from his imagination. At the same time, his fangs split his lower lip. The skin healed but the blood remained. Its salty taste made the vision unbearably vivid.
He needed Daniel. He ached for him, for his body, his blood. No others would suffice.
He made a decision as he stood. He would not hunt tonight. He already knew where his prey slept.
Daniel slept like the dead. He kept utterly still, mouth gaped open like a fish, with only the rise and fall of his breaths to betray him. And nothing would rouse him, either. He wouldn’t have woken even if Armand made noise slipping through his window.
He looked almost innocent like this. No cigarettes or bottle in his mouth, no reckless blabbering, just boyish sleep and a bit of drool drying on his pillow. It was ironic, Armand knew. If Daniel had truly abstained from any substances, he would’ve woken immediately. A hair trigger, his boy, if only while sober.
No, he had clearly marinated in something the day prior. Drink or an injectable, perhaps. Looking at the state of him, Armand couldn’t tell. A surprise, then, for when he drank his blood and could share in the effects. They both enjoyed that guessing game, for different reasons.
Armand stepped towards him and took in his beautiful face, unchanged since he saw him last. Long, dark lashes brushed his pink cheeks, day-old stubble graced his jawline and upper lip, an unruly curl lay against his forehead, forgotten in sleep. Armand scooped it up and twirled it around his finger. Clean, damp from a shower. So he’d been lucid enough for that.
The curl clung to Armand’s skin as if reluctant to let go. He gave it a tug.
Daniel’s eyes blinked open, revealing their startlingly human green-blue. Armand sometimes wanted to pluck them out of his head and marvel at them up close, as close as possible, perhaps with a jeweler’s glass, to note every speck of color hidden within. The dashes of Terre Verte, Verdeazzuro, illuminating Egyptian Blue. Then he might pop them in his mouth and swallow them whole.
“Wha th’ fuck?” Daniel slurred beneath him.
“Daniel,” Armand said, only just to say it aloud, to let his mouth move around those two simple syllables. It’d been months since he last tasted his name. Saying it now felt like sharing a secret.
Daniel’s eyelids fluttered blindly. “Huh?”
“I needed to see you,” Armand said.
“Armand,” Daniel muttered, confirming it to himself. He closed his eyes again, twisting around in bed to give Armand his back. “I was sleeping.”
“So I woke you,” Armand said.
When it was clear Daniel wasn’t turning back, Armand threaded his fingers into the curls on the crown of his head, using the tips of his claws to massage his scalp. Dark locks of hair slid over his skin as smooth as water. For a moment, Armand wanted to crawl under the covers and fall asleep beside him. Here, now, in this bed… It seemed so peaceful.
“Why are you in Paradise, Nevada?” he asked instead.
“Research,” Daniel said into his pillow.
“Drugs, you mean.”
There was no response. Armand sighed. He reached over to press Daniel’s shoulder down against the mattress, forcing him onto his back.
Daniel seemed very confused by that, like he hadn’t registered that Armand had been touching him. After a millisecond, he came to his senses, wrestling his arm up and loosely shoving at Armand’s face. “’m tired. Go away.”
Armand leaned down and bit the apple of his cheek. Hard enough to hurt, not enough to break skin. Daniel yelped, eyes flying open wide as he sat up and rubbed at the spot, massaging the pain away.
“Fucking seriously?” Daniel asked. He seemed awake now. He reached over to the bedside table and turned on the light, bathing the hotel room in a warm yellow. “What are you, a dog?”
“You’re being a pain and I’ve no time nor patience.” Armand pushed a hand on Daniel’s chest, laying him back down so he could swing a leg over and straddle him. It was hardly sexual, barely even suggestive, but still that flustered blush bloomed on his face, like some virgin. Always pretending the hapless victim, even while his hands instinctively grabbed Armand’s hips.
He turned his head obediently as Armand dove down to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.
He didn’t smell like himself. He’d doused his skin in the flowery aromas of hotel-brand soap and lotion, cosmetics applied so one smells edible to other humans. They did nothing for Armand. The loss ached like a wound in his gut.
He licked a stripe up Daniel’s jugular to clear off the scent.
“Are…” Daniel began. It came out as a wheeze. He tried again. “Are we going out?”
His breathing had grown quick from arousal or fear—couldn’t be sure which without a dip into his mind. Still, he kept his neck bared enough for Armand to see the pulse bobbing in his throat like a fishing lure. He had trained him so well. The thought made his chest tighten.
“No,” Armand said to his skin.
“What are you doing?”
Armand teased the hem of his shirt, still mouthing at his neck. The hotel smell dissipated, replaced with Armand himself. Rosemary and basil and the eternal tang of blood. He was growing frustrated, even though the scent of himself on Daniel made something possessive and cloying purr deep inside of him, content.
“Armand,” Daniel said. He was trying to sound more authoritative, lowering his voice like that. As if he actually held any power here. It made Armand smile. He would never know how many privileges he possessed.
“I had to see you,” Armand replied, indulging him. He pushed himself up to look Daniel in the eye. “I woke thinking of you.”
“There’s gotta be closer people to bite.”
“Not only your blood.” He ground his hips down pointedly.
Daniel’s eyes went half-lidded. Armand knew he had an effect on him, but seeing proof was always flattering. Then he watched Daniel paper everything over with a practiced nonchalance natural to him even at this hour. “So, vampires get evening wood?”
Armand ignored him. “I opened my eyes and missed you like a limb,” he explained. “I felt lost. Untethered. I need you, beloved.”
“Holy shit,” Daniel laughed.
Armand bowed his head and nipped at Daniel’s neck once, twice. Each time his teeth pressed to flesh, his fangs slid out a little further and each time Daniel flinched a little harder. It’d be so easy to sink into him. Daniel would never try to force him off, even as he grunted and squirmed with pleasure-pain. He’d grow weaker and weaker. He’d go pale and bloodless on the white sheets if Armand willed it. The spitting image of a painted saint.
“I came here to fuck you,” Armand said.
Daniel swallowed thickly. “Christ, man.”
Armand took a patch of skin into his mouth, sucking hard. Eager blood swirled up towards his tongue and popped against the underside of Daniel’s flesh. Beneath him, Daniel whined high in his throat.
With some effort, Armand eventually let go. He peered down at his work. Sure enough, Daniel was already bruising, pinpricks of broken blood vessels dotting the line of his jugular. The spot, wet with saliva, shone like a mirror under the yellow lights. “Will you let me?”
“I mean. Fuck. Shit.” Daniel glanced around wildly. “What time is it?”
“Do you really care?” Armand asked.
“Fucking hell. No,” he hissed. “Just. Yeah. Fuck me. Ye—”
Armand was already clawing through his shirt, starting at the collar and ripping straight down. The fabric fell away like a parted curtain, revealing two pale breasts. So small—not even a handful altogether. Immature boys in Daniel’s schools probably called them “mosquito bites.” Fitting now, he supposed.
Daniel laughed as Armand sucked a rosy nipple into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over it once and was pleased to discover it sensitive. Daniel hummed his approval with his head tilted back. He pressed closer, scraping his front teeth over the flesh to feel Daniel jump.
“Fuckin’ tease,” he whispered.
Armand’s chuckle was cut short by Daniel pushing his head hard against his breast. Greedy thing. Slowly, his tongue curled around the nipple as Daniel panted above him. He wanted to savor this. He dragged it all out, licking and nipping the skin of his breast until he finally took the nipple into his mouth. He closed his lips around it and sucked. This time, Daniel’s mouth was open when he moaned. It turned into a hiss as Armand bit down.
“Christ, careful.” Daniel’s grip tightened on his scalp. “’M not a fucking chew toy.”
Armand released his nipple with a pop. He smiled. “You can’t lie to me, Daniel.”
Before he could respond, Armand tucked a claw beneath the elastic waistband of Daniel’s boxers and pulled it away from the skin. There, a trail of dark hair lead down from his naval over the swell of his stomach. Oh, and his stomach. The soft fat that circled his belly and waist—perfection. Beautiful evidence of entire days sat at a typewriter. It enchanted Armand each time he saw it; the perfect cushion for his boy’s muscles and bones and now for Armand’s hands. The way it made the line of his silhouette sweep, a perfect S from there to the curve of his ass and the plane of his thigh…
He couldn’t help himself. He pushed lower on the bed, leaned down, and plunged his teeth into Daniel’s flank.
Warm, thick blood dripped like syrup onto Armand’s tongue, and with it dizzying relief. Drinking from here was so unlike the neck. His fangs sank into neck skin like feet in loamy soil. It was a welcoming embrace, as if his victim anticipated his arrival and eased the way for him. Here, the layers of flesh and fat snapped as his fangs pushed through them — a wonderfully tactile give that made him want to rip his teeth out and bite over and over again.
Beneath him, Daniel grunted and tensed. More blood gushed into Armand’s mouth as his leg instinctively contracted, then again when he sat up on his elbows to watch, lips parted and chest heaving. He rested a shaky hand on Armand’s head and scratched his fingers through his hair, coaxing him to drink his fill.
If Armand was younger and weaker, he might’ve obliged. In fact, he might’ve drained Daniel dozens of times by now. Anyone would say that the boy begged for death—Armand would have, too, after that first night in San Francisco—but once their chase began, once he saw him as he truly was, a better descriptor presented itself: Daniel flirted with death. Every back alley deal was a dance. Each offering of his neck, a kiss. Whenever they met, there was a chance that Death and Daniel might finally consummate their mutual lust, and Armand had never been the best peacekeeper.
He took several deep sips from Daniel’s thigh and didn’t bother closing the wound once he pulled off. Let it bleed on his boxers and bedsheets, he thought—a token to remember him by.
Armand ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth to feel the last of the blood slipping against his taste buds, thin as oil. “Only alcohol?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Daniel said, still petting Armand’s hair. “Well, there was—there was some coke yesterday but, yeah, it’s gone now.”
When Armand pushed himself back up, the world fell out of sync with his vision. Or, his vision fell out of sync with his body. Either way, the hotel room suddenly performed this sickening lurch sideways that made the space between his eyebrows pang. When he recovered he found himself desperately grabbing Daniel’s waist for purchase. “Quite a bit of alcohol,” he said.
Daniel grinned. His eyelids had sunk lower. A side effect of Armand’s indulgence, most likely. “You a lightweight?” he asked.
Armand watched his hands squeeze at Daniel’s sides. He gripped so tight that yellow halos flared on Daniel’s skin. They glowed lighter and lighter with each passing second, slowly but surely approaching pure white. Then Armand let go, and the shadows burned pink. “I don’t drink often.”
“I could make the obvious joke, but…”
He looked up. Still smiling. “You want to seem smarter than that, so you gesture at it, instead.”
“Alright, asshole.” Then, their lips pressed together—chaste and dry for a split second until Daniel sucked Armand’s lower lip into his mouth.
They hadn’t kissed before, Armand realized. He’d nearly forgotten amongst all the other arguably more intimate acts they’d experienced together. But Armand liked kissing. He liked Daniel’s mouth. He liked how it moved against his own, exploratory and uncoordinated. How had they denied themselves this for so long?
When Armand touched their tongues together, Daniel took the opportunity to slip into Armand’s mouth. The heat burned. He couldn’t help the needy noise that escaped his throat.
Daniel yanked away, breathing hard. “My blood,” he panted. “I can taste—“
Taste more, Armand purred into his mind and captured his lips again. Daniel met the kiss with a vengeance. Better to not let him speak, lest he talk himself into his strange shame again.
Armand picked at his waistband. These off now, he said.
No response. More kissing.
Armand nipped his lip, admonishing. He pulled the elastic taught against itself. Off.
Daniel backed away. His eyes kept darting away, like a frightened prey animal searching for an exit. Strange. “I have… You—“
Armand had no patience for this. His claw pierced the boxers.
“Wait, wait—”
Armand had already torn clean through, leaving Daniel naked and on display. Pale ass on dark scraps of fabric, all laid out on the hotel sheets like a finely plated meal.
He’d never know why Daniel would hide such a pretty cunt from him. It was all soft skin covered by dark curls that fanned out over his mound and inner thighs. A pink nub peeked out from between his folds with the dot of a mole to the side; a beauty mark. Armand reached down and spread him, peering closer. His hole clenched under scrutiny, already slick and leaking. Armand’s mouth watered at the sight.
“I’ve been in your mind. You think I didn’t know?”
Armand touched his thumb to the head of what Daniel mentally referred to as his dick. A precious little thing, so endearing, all warm and wet. It hardened at his touch, blood rushing to fill it beneath the skin.
His hand moved lower, following his cock’s slippery underside until he reached his entrance. Every nerve ending in Armand’s body migrated to the pad of his right forefinger. He traced around the edges with care, intimately aware of his finger and the flutter of muscles beneath it. He felt Daniel’s every breath, every heartbeat, every twinge. The subconscious nudge of hips into his hand. In that moment, he transformed into a finely tuned instrument, receptive only to Daniel’s desire.
Armand wanted. He wanted terribly.
He looked up.
Daniel was looking back. A flush sat hot and red on his cheeks, already climbing up to his ears. His front teeth dug into his lip. His fists white-knuckled the sheets as if Armand was already inside him.
In his eyes, Armand saw the simultaneous feelings of looming terror and tantalizing lust. Not battling—existing in tandem. Beautiful.
Words failed him. He surged forward to kiss him again, one hand cradling the back of his head while the other teased at his cock. Daniel moaned into his mouth. He grabbed a tight handful of his shirt, tugging Armand closer.
“It’s okay?” he whispered.
“What?” Armand asked.
“My—“ He cut himself off with another brief but searing kiss. “Situation.”
In his voice, Armand heard a worry that had never been there before. Something small and scared that Daniel kept pushed down, now crawling up the back of his throat.
Armand pulled back to admire him, how his gorgeous eyes avoided him to watch his own fingers play with Armand’s shirt collar. He rubbed his thumb across Daniel’s cheek, fond. “Sometimes you are completely nonsensical,” he said, then kissed him slow and sumptuous. He tried to pour all his love into that kiss, hoping to convey to Daniel just how little his ‘situation’ mattered. By the way Daniel melted back into him, he seemed to understand.
“Here, beloved.”
Armand gave him his fingers, one on either side of his dick, grinding down until Daniel got the idea and fucked into the tight space between them.
“Oh, shit,” Daniel breathed, lifting his eyebrows in surprise.
“You’re beautiful like this,” Armand said.
Daniel snorted. “Yeah, keep talking dirty, baby.”
“It’s true.”
Daniel slowed his hips to a grind, pushing into Armand’s grip slow, letting his cock drag against skin. “Fuck.” He caught his lower lip between his teeth and moaned, loud and wanton. Armand’s cock jumped.
He moved his hand with him, keeping Daniel’s pace and pressure. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t move,” Daniel said, panting hard. His pupils had all but swallowed up his irises. “Let me. Please.”
Armand obliged. He was happy to sit back and watch.
He made a gorgeous picture, holding Armand’s hand still and thrusting up to meet it. At each peak of movement, the pink head of his dick would kiss the meat of his palm. It would nestle itself between the muscles of his thumb and pinky, perfectly swollen and twitching, and leave a slick trail behind as Daniel drew back. It was so tantalizing. He’d almost say Daniel was teasing. But each push of his hips felt focused, purposeful. Not so much grinding as…
“You’re picturing fucking me?” Armand asked.
Daniel nodded, frantic and stiff, hips working like pistons.
The corners of Armand’s mouth curled. “You want to?”
“Yes, I want to. What kind of question is that?”
“Describe what you’re picturing. How are you taking me?”
Daniel swallowed thickly. “From behind.”
Armand focused on Daniel’s closed eyes and pinched eyebrows. He looked perfect. “And?”
“You’re in my lap and my arms are around your little waist,” Daniel continued. “And I’m fucking up into you fast and hard. And your whole body shudders when I bottom out. You’re so tight, and cold ‘cause you haven’t eaten.”
Armand’s smile grew. “Yes, you like that, don’t you?”
“Feels… fucking electric,” Daniel admitted. “You’re pulling my hair and my teeth are in your neck and— fuck, your blood. You’re crying and begging—“
Armand slipped two fingers into Daniel’s hole. The push was easy, already well-lubricated by Daniel’s gushing. It made Daniel groan.
“You want to dominate me?” Armand held his fingers inside of him, refusing to move.
“You know I do,” Daniel said, voice low. A bit angry, now, since Armand interrupted. That made it all so much sweeter.
“And you think you need to penetrate me in order to do that?” He dragged the fingers out, unhurried.
Daniel suppressed an eye roll as his hips stuttered. “C’mon, don’t psychoanalyze me and finger me at the same time.”
Armand laughed through his nose, watching his fingers disappear back inside Daniel. This time, the walls squeezed tight around him, reluctant to let go. How heavenly this would feel on his cock. Daniel’s lively flesh clamping down, keeping him warm and wet and close.
His pants were becoming uncomfortably tight.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
“And when will you be mine?” Daniel asked.
Armand responded by fucking his fingers in and out of Daniel’s hole, hard. It made him gasp, hands scrambling to grip the pillow by his head as the wet sounds of skin slapping skin filled the room. Too soon, Armand crooked his fingers. Daniel slammed a hand over his mouth to muffle his heaving punched-out grunts.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he groaned behind his hand.
“Say you’re mine,” Armand commanded.
“I’m yours,” Daniel said.
“Say you’re my dog.”
“I—I’m your dog, baby,” he keened. “Anything. Anything. I’m anything for you.”
As a reward, Armand moved his thumb back to the head of his dick, letting it stroke him with the thrusts of his hand. “Good,” he said mildly.
Daniel screwed his eyes shut at that, hand gripping Armand’s shoulder as his lips parted in a silent moan. His hips ground down as his head tipped back, neck bowing, revealing the dull points of his molars at the back of his mouth.
Daniel always responded so beautifully, ready to fall at the slightest touch. For a moment, Armand believed he didn’t need to orgasm himself tonight—instead, he could watch Daniel in the throes of pleasure for hours, forcing him to crest his peak over and over and over again until he collapsed, hopefully not before the break of dawn. He wanted to see Daniel absolutely ruined. High on pleasure. Knowing that he was the one who gave it to him.
“Close,” Daniel wheezed. His grip on Armand’s shoulder tightened, anchoring him, as if otherwise he might float away.
His face was a delightful shade of red. The spot where Armand had bit him on his cheek had darkened with his flush, clearly outlining a row of tooth marks. Perhaps he bit him harder than intended.
He attempted to quell his ensuing rush of satisfaction.
“There you go,” Armand said. “You’re going to cum once on my fingers, like this, and then I’ll fuck you properly. Right?”
Daniel nodded. He released his bloodied lip. “O—Okay.”
“Good.” He leaned to down to mouth at Daniel’s hot neck, laving his tongue on his skin. “I can feel that you’re close, beloved. Your cunt’s squeezing me so tight. It’s like you don’t want to let go.”
“I don’t,” Daniel gasped. His hips bucked up, violent and searching. “Armand. Please. Please.”
Oh, how he loved his begging. “It’s okay.” Armand left a trail of kisses up his cheek to his temple. With his free hand, he cradled Daniel’s head close to his. “Let go. I’ve got you. I’m here.”
Daniel’s hole pulsed impossibly tighter, tighter, letting Armand felt every bump and divot in the channel. It made Armand’s jaw fall open with a lustful huff. His imagination was getting the best of him, again.
He needed to feel this around his cock. He needed to spear Daniel open, feel how his insides shuddered with each desperate breath, fuck up into the root of him and then deeper than that. He needed his fingers down Daniel’s throat and his teeth in his neck so he could claw at himself from either side. He needed to bite him hard enough to scar forever, or take a hot metal brand to his thigh, or rip his stomach open, or kill him now, here, on this Nevadan hotel bed. Something to prove he was his and his only.
“You’re mine,” Armand whispered against his ear, nearly manic.
A cry ripped from Daniel’s chest. It only made Armand tighten his hold.
“Beloved. You’re mine. Forever. Only mine.”
Daniel’s hole squeezed once, twice. Then, like his own internal pressure was too much to bear, he threw his head back, spasming against himself. He pulsed around Armand’s fingers as he came.
“Perfect. Perfect,” he cooed, working Daniel through it.
“I’m—” Daniel said once he came to. A weak hand found Armand’s where it pressed against his dick. He grabbed his wrist, pushing him away. “Armand. Too much. Hand’s off.”
He reluctantly obeyed. He instead wrapped it around Daniel’s waist when he tugged him to his lips for a languid kiss. Daniel’s mouth was strangely cold, likely from all his open-mouthed panting, but Armand’s heart panged with the loss of his contrasting warmth. He felt like a sunflower without any sun.
Daniel bit his lower lip as he pulled away. He apparently liked to do that. Armand liked him doing it, too. “Fuck, baby,” he said. “We should’ve done that way sooner.”
Armand grinned. “I didn’t mind the wait.” His hands went to his own waistband, fingers plucking at the top button. “But now that we’re here, I’d like to make the most of it.”
He loved to see Daniel smile.