Archive of Our Own

Daniel met Armand at a bar. 

There was something familiar about the curl of his dark hair, his sharp cheek bones, and the way he analysed him from across the bar with a keen smile. 

He was instantly attracted to him. 

“Haven’t I seen you before?” Daniel sidled up next to him, drink in hand, already two drinks in and high enough not to overthink. 

“Have you?” The side of the man’s lip quirks up as brings his drink to his lips. 

Daniel drunkenly tried to sort through his memories. He’d seen that same head of curly hair at the back of lecture halls, at conferences, at book release parties.

“Definitely,” He smiled and raised a playful eyebrow. “Are you stalking me?” 

“I am simply a fan of your work.” 

Daniel laughed. “Makes one of us.” 

“I think you should give yourself more credit, Mr. Molloy.” 

That voice was practically a purr, low but perfectly clear despite the noise around them. Daniel tried to place the accent, but he was enraptured by the way the stranger’s eyes dipped down Daniel’s body; the alcohol in his system was nothing compared to that look. His body felt like it was on fire when they locked eyes again. His imagination ran wild with what he wanted to do with those parted lips in front of him. All this and he didn’t even know his name yet.

“Armand.” The stranger smiled as though he knew the depravity of Daniel’s thoughts. 

“Daniel,” He extended a hand. The hand that clasped his was cool to the touch. “Mr. Molloy is for my students. And my boss, when he’s pissed off.” 

Armand laughed and raised his eyebrows. “Well, I think I’m too old to be a student of yours.” 

“Wouldn’t want you to be. I could get in a lot of trouble for what I want to do with you.” 

Armand dropped his eyes with a smile. He took a step towards Daniel, who felt as though his knees might give out as a hand snaked around his waist and as he inhaled the warm, smoky scent of Armand’s cologne. “And what would you like to do with me?”

“I can think of a couple things,” Daniel locked his eyes on the lips in front of him and slid his free arm over Armand’s shoulder. “Starting with getting the hell out of here.” 

Ten minutes later, Daniel was being pressed against the door of a hotel room with Armand’s lips against his, one hand under his thighs and lifting him as though he weighed nothing. Holy fuck, Daniel thought, moaning into Armand’s open mouth. Holy fuck, he thought again as Armand was opening him with his fingers and sucking bruises into his neck, then again as he was being pressed into the mattress and begging for more until he came with Armand’s hand over his mouth. 

“You should stay,” Daniel said after, sitting at the edge of the bed, still lightheaded and boneless from his orgasm. “We could do that a couple more times.” 

“As enticing as that sounds,” Armand smiled as he pulled on the sleeves of his button down.“I have somewhere to be.” 

“That’s no fun.” Daniel frowned, tilting his head back as Armand stepped to the foot of the bed. He runs his hands from Armand’s hips to his waist. 

“No,” Armand frowned playfully, running one hand through Daniel’s hair and using the other to fasten the last few buttons of  his shirt. He leaned over and murmured, “But I am sure you can wait until we meet next.” 

He stepped away so quickly that Daniel lost his balance trying to lean for a final kiss. 

The bruises Daniel was left with lasted for days. 

–

Armand was the one to approach him the second time. 

Daniel had been leaning over for a light from the woman who’d been making advances towards him all night. He’d been planning on going home with her until he straightened up and saw Armand at his side. His eyes looked impossibly bright in the low light of the club. 

“Daniel,” Armand greeted. He didn’t cast so much as a glance at the woman practically hanging off Daniel’s arm. 

“Armand.” Daniel breathed, body already flushed with need. 

He was on his knees in the one-stall bathroom five minutes later, eyes rolling back with the weight of Armand on his tongue. Armand fucked him against the wall, smothering Daniel’s whines with his mouth as someone banged on the door. 

Armand bit down on his neck as he came inside Daniel. His teeth were unexpectedly sharp. The pain had Daniel spilling onto Armand’s stomach in seconds. 

Armand kissed him goodbye that time, gently running his fingers along his jaw and down his neck. 

He hoped that the mark from the bite would last as long as the last ones, maybe even longer, but was surprised to see no evidence of the bite when he stepped in front of the mirror to make himself presentable again.

He ran his fingers along the skin and mourned the loss of the reminder. He wanted to ask how it was done, but Armand was gone by the time he stepped out of the bathroom. 

–

They made it to Daniel’s apartment the third time. 

Daniel had bumped into Armand at the café right down the block from him. Daniel was there to work, but had hardly got two sips from his late-night coffee before he was inviting Armand back to his place. 

Armand’s lips were all over him before he even got the key in the door. He was kissed as they stepped through the threshold, through his tiny kitchen and to his bedroom. He didn't think about the state of his room, clothes and papers strewn across the little furniture he has. Armand didn’t seem to care, either way, and pushed him back onto his mattress to straddle him. 

They were panting and breathless as they broke apart to clumsily get their shirts off. Above him, Armand was practically a shadow in the low light of his apartment. Streetlights blazed off his hair and skin, his amber eyes unnaturally bright. 

The light caught something else. Two sharp canine teeth; two fangs, visible from between his parted lips. 

Daniel stopped. 

“Your teeth,” He breathed. 

Armand stared at him. His expression changed imperceptibly. If anything, he looked panicked. 

Daniel remained fixated. Without thinking, he reached up and ran his thumb along his top teeth, feeling the points press into his skin. Armand exhaled heavily onto his hand and shivered. His eyes dropped to Daniel's neck, lightly biting down on the thumb between his teeth. 

Daniel watched hunger bleed into Armand’s expression. His heart beat faster in his chest – whether from fear or arousal, he couldn’t tell– at the realization that he was prey. At any moment, he could become a mysterious and unsolvable murder like the ones he read about in the paper.

No. Armand’s voice rang in his head, so sudden that Daniel jumped. 

“You– you could hear that?”

You think very loudly. I can hear you even when I’m halfway across the country, breathing my name as you touch yourself.

Daniel flushed. 

“To answer your question, I will not kill you.” A playful smirk twisted on Armand’s lips. “You’ve proven yourself useful.”

“I can be more useful.” Daniel drags his fingers along Armand’s waist. “Take my blood.”

For the first time, Armand looked hesitant. He normally held himself with such self-assurance and took what he wanted from Daniel with no compunction. 

“I know you want to,” Daniel whispered. He settled his hands on Armand’s hips. The thought of being so completely at Armand’s will thrilled him; there was nothing more enticing than placing his life in the hands of a vampire– a vampire who was straddling his lap, still visibly hard, even more visibly hungry. Drink. Please.

He felt Armand’s lips first, kissing the skin just above his clavicle. Then, the slow puncture and the tear of his skin. He gasped, feeling Armand’s mouth latch onto him. 

It was nothing like Daniel had ever experienced; it was heaven. If this was what it was like to be drained, what must it be like to drink it? He wraps his arms over Armand’s back. Armand rolled his hips against his as he sipped slowly, pleasure pouring through Daniel’s body from the point of the bite. The small sounds Armand made in the back of his throat had Daniel chasing the friction. Armand comes quickly with a sharp groan into his skin and a shudder. 

He whined when Armand pulled off, but quickly forgot that feeling when tasted himself on Armand’s lips and tongue. He came untouched, still wearing his jeans, bucking his hips up into Armand. 

Armand’s lips were still tinted red when he sat up on Daniel’s lap, looking dazed and flushed. 

Daniel laughed giddily and pulled Armand back down to him.

–

Daniel loses track of their meetings. 

Armand is everywhere. He’s in New York when Daniel flies out to a work conference. He’s in London when Daniel is invited to a writers workshop. His voice is in Daniel’s head at night. His hands are in Daniel’s hair in a Parisian hotel room. His teeth are in Daniel’s neck in the back of an empty movie theater, in the backseat of Daniel’s car, in the corners of crowded bars.

Eventually, he’s in Daniel’s apartment at 3am, dragging him out of bed to sneak into a museum exhibition he’s never heard of. Or, dragging him to a film that’s just been released. He asks Daniel questions about pop culture on the entire journey to their destination. Daniel tries foods that Armand samples in his blood; he tries the drugs Armand brings at his behest, then enjoys the sight of a high Armand, who begs for more from Daniel’s wrist with pupils blown wide. Helpless to Armand’s every whim, Daniel gives it. 

It’s this version of Armand that opens the skin of his wrist and holds it out to Daniel, urging him to drink. Armand’s body is warm, his cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide from arousal as he rides Daniel. His hot blood drips onto Daniel’s chest from the small gash in his wrist. 

Drink, Armand shudders as he rolls his hips down.  

Daniel obeys, straining against the belt tying his wrists to the bed frame to lap up the droplets with his tongue. 

As soon as latches his lips to Armand’s wrist, he’s flooded with Armand; his taste, his scent, his body. He feels Armand’s pleasure pouring into him. He sees flashes of his own body through Armand’s eyes, rendered in such a way that Daniel would never have recognized himself. Flashes of long expanses of clear water, of trees and flowers illuminated by moonlight, of Daniel on his knees with his chin on Armand’s thigh. He feels the moment Armand comes, the pleasure rushing into him on the current as Armand’s body tightens around him. 

After that, no drug compares to Armand. 

Daniel tries to replicate the feeling on his own, but he can’t. He needs to be tied up in Armand, needs him all around him, needs him pumping through his veins. 

He rides Armand, mouthing at his neck like a desperate animal until Armand opens a vein for him. He drinks until Armand pulls him off and flips him over on the mattress, latching his mouth onto Daniel’s neck to take back what he’d given. Their blood mixes in their mouths as they shudder into each other. 

Daniel loves it.

-

As their meetings become more consistent, Daniel finds himself spending too much time trying to figure this creature out; this creature who wants nothing more than to have someone to talk to while simultaneously keeping everything about himself behind a meticulously curated veil. 

Daniel is fascinated by immortality, but Armand changes the subject whenever he asks about it. He asks how old Armand is and he gets a non-answer. Older than I look. 

It drives Daniel crazy. 

Armand knows everything about Daniel. He can easily dip into Daniel’s mind for the answer. He knows practically every thought that passes through Daniel’s head.

Daniel isn’t afforded that luxury. He’s left outside of the high and ridiculously guarded walls that Armand has had the time to put up. The only thing he was able to figure out was because of Armand’s love of art museums. He’ll spend hours wandering them if left to do so. He’ll stare at paintings from the Renaissance era, standing eerily still amongst the human crowds, as though he’d been preserved as a statue and not in immortality. Daniel usually wanders the exhibit, but eventually circles back to stand at his side.

One afternoon, they found themselves in front of a large painting by an Italian artist Daniel could never remember the name of. 

Daniel takes the time to observe the entire scene depicted in oils; the bustle of people in a marketplace, the sun high in the sky above them. In the corner, there’s a young boy that Armand seems to have his eyes locked on. Daniel has to take a step forward to see him fully. Dark curls and brown skin come into focus, brown eyes that Daniel recognizes but has never truly seen. 

Is this you? Daniel glances back at Armand. 

Armand doesn’t acknowledge him. That night, Armand fucks him as though he has something to prove, silent and rough. Afterwards, when Armand must assume he’s fallen asleep, Daniel watches as this creature sits quietly in the dark. He’s eerily still until he moves to draw his knees to his chest, leaning his chin on them as though he were a small child.

Daniel is tempted to reach out and pry. He doesn’t. Instead, he closes his eyes. He drifts off,  but it’s not long after that he feels Armand lie against him, face pressed into his neck. A finger gently reaches across to the other side of his neck to smooth away the puncture wounds before the cool hand rests on his chest. 

It’s the first time Armand has spent the whole night with him. 

Daniel wants to know more. Wanting to know always seems to be the trait that gets him into trouble, but it’s his job to find pressure points.

He finds all the buttons that get the reactions he wants. He asks about the paintings– there are now multiple Daniel has found, in art books and in exhibitions – and Armand immediately changes the subject. He asks where he’s from, who turned him and how; Armand sits in fuming silence before he says, Doesn’t matter now.

He brings up Louis, the vampire he interviewed years ago in a drug fueled haze. He remembers almost nothing from the interview, but could at least recall Louis’ name and face. He once asked Armand if they knew each other. That ended with Armand angrier than he’s ever seen him, but doesn’t remember much. What he does remember is that Armand’s anger didn’t seem directed towards him. He was just the punching bag for feelings that didn’t involve him. He makes the mental note that there’s a past there. 

The next morning, Armand kissed him and fucked him slow, gentle apologies floating to Daniel with every thrust. Daniel is never tempted to ask about Louis again. It seems to slip his mind altogether. 

He makes a connection one night when he’s blood drunk and high, staring at the ceiling.  “Did that painter turn you? I can never remember his name– something de Romanus?” 

It makes sense the more he thinks about it. Daniel had originally thought that the art made Armand feel connected to what remained of his humanity, seeing as they were his contemporaries, but this would add a whole new dimension to it. 

Armand stills as he pulls his shirt back on. He slowly turns to Daniel with something in his eyes that can only be described as a mixture of fear and fury. The rest of his face is as smooth as marble. Daniel suppresses a satisfied smile as he fumbles with the blunt in between his fingers.

“Did you know he was a vampire while you would model for him?” Daniel sits up, leaning his arms on his knees. “Bet it would’ve been pretty obvious if he only ever painted at night. How—”

In a blink, Daniel is on his back again and Armand is looming over him. The unnatural orange of his eyes blazes in the shadows. It’s this look— this manic, out of control look— that Daniel always tries to drag out from behind the practiced marble of Armand’s usual expressions. 

“I could drain you right now, Daniel, do not forget that.” 

“I haven’t,” Daniel’s heart races in his chest. He knows, by this point, that Armand is bluffing. 

“Am I?” Armand murmurs as his eyes drop to Daniel’s neck. 

“You’d have done it by now.”

–

It’s the same dance when Daniel experimentally tries something new in bed.

He knows that Armand doesn’t like to be fucked, or at least, it’s not his preference to be. On occasion, usually when he’s high off the drugs in Daniel’s blood and thus a little more desperate, he will ride Daniel as though he’s a toy, taking what he needs until he’s been satisfied more than once over and Daniel is spent. It’s about control, as everything is with Armand. Control means he never allows himself to be under Daniel, no matter how often Daniel tries. 

“Get on your knees,” Daniel orders one night as Armand pushes him back towards the bed. 

Armand does nothing but stare at him, visibly surprised. There’s a tightness in his voice when he speaks. “What?” 

“You heard me. Get on your knees.” 

He’s barely finished the sentence when suddenly he finds himself on his knees, unable to move. He stares up at this demon– his demon. His eyes blaze in his unnaturally still face. It slowly cocks its head to one side.

“I do not come here to take orders from a mortal,” Armand says cooly. He drags a finger along the underside of Daniel’s chin, the pointed nail sharply pressing into the skin. His face is still.

“Turn me and you won’t have to,” Daniel hisses, his smile much too cocky for the position he’s currently in.

The first time he’d asked, Armand had laughed. The next, he’d smiled and kissed Daniel without a word about it. Since then, Daniel’s pleas have been ignored.

Please, give it to me, please. 

Small gifts would arrive in lieu of his request. An expensive watch, an even more expensive suit. First edition copies of Daniel’s favorite books. A set of fine ink pens. Trips all across the world. 

I can take it.

Nothing has deterred Daniel from asking, from begging, to be freed from the burden of mortality. 

I want it. Give it to me.

Armand’s persistent indifference to his pleas grates on his patience. 

Now, Armand’s eyes flash. He slowly crouches, a bitter smile on his lips. “Turn you? What of your mortal qualities deserve to be preserved in immortality? You’re an addict, Daniel.”

“And whose fault is that?” 

“Certainly not mine, you’ve been an addict since before we met. At this rate you will be one until you die, likely by the drugs you keep pumping into your bloodstream. I’m sure your family waits for the moment your name appears in a newspaper obituary, just–” 

“Stop,” Daniel spits. He tries to look away from Armand’s face, but his head is held in place by invisible hands. Flaming yellow eyes bore into him. 

“Would you like to know what they all really think of you? 

“No, please–” 

“I could start with your mother,”

“Please, no– I’m sorry,” Daniel begs, breath shuddering as he tries to fill his lungs. “Please.” 

Armand assesses him with an impassive expression, then finally breaks the trance by looking away. His lips twitch with a grimace. Daniel’s body crumples down and he catches himself by his hands, suppressing a sob. He floods the silence with apologies. 

He hates how fear and arousal curl in his stomach. He hates the gentle hand that comes to his cheek not a minute later, coaxing him to look up. In front of him is that beautiful, ancient face, expression creased with worry that seemed impossible mere seconds ago. It’s pathetic how eagerly he accepts the kiss that follows, how he wants and wants and wants as Armand holds his hips in place and sinks his teeth into his neck. Armand keeps him on the edge for what feels like hours before he finally lets him come. 

–

“Why won’t you give it to me?” Daniel asks one night.

He’s irritated and tired after Armand had swept him across the world to another foreign city. The question had burned in him all day as he was dragged down Norwegian streets, his jet-lagged and sleep-deprived body no match for a vampire’s enthusiasm. 

He needs a release, something more than the two orgasms Armand had just wrung from him. He needs to pick Armand apart and put him back together in the most accurate way, not in the mismatched puzzle that’s been presented to him.

Silence follows. Armand rolls a cigarette between his fingers. Daniel watches his side profile in the warm lamplight. He spots the moment Armand’s jaw tightens. 

“And why should you be the one to decide? You don’t understand what humanity is like,” Daniel holds a cigarette between his teeth and lights it. The words feel familiar on his tongue. “It’s not fair.”

Something bitter crosses Armand’s face then. It takes unusually long for it to pass; Daniel watches as he tries to wrestle it into neutrality. He still doesn’t look at Daniel. 

“Because I’m the one you’ll resent once it’s done.” There’s a sharpness in the vampire’s tone. 

Daniel scoffs. “You don’t know that,” 

Armand stubs his cigarette out on the nightstand. “I’ve seen it time and time again.” 

“You’re really going to let the others you’ve made determine my fate?” 

Armand flushes. His face twitches.

“You’ve never made one,” Daniel sits up then. 

“I did not say–” 

“How could you possibly know what it will actually be like?” 

Armand stands up. “I’m not having this conversation again.” 

“I am,” Daniel starts to follow by crawling to the edge of the bed. He rests his hands on Armand’s bare waist. “I want to be with you– I want to be like you. I don’t know what your maker was like, but I’m not you and you’re not him. We’re–” 

Daniel pulls back as Armand rounds on him. The look in those inhuman eyes causes him to stumble back as though they had hands of their own to push. 

“You’re not me,” Armand echoes, a challenge curling in his voice. His face is eerily still. 

Daniel stands his ground now that he’s regained his balance on his knees. “I’m not. So just because you had a fucked up relationship with your maker doesn’t mean you can project that–”

“I begged to be turned. Who does that sound like?” Armand looms over Daniel. “Begged, because I did not understand what I was asking for. Begged because I was foolish enough to believe that—”

Armand stops himself, pursing his lips and scrunching his nose as though he were in pain. Daniel’s body slackens as he looks away from him. 

“Believe what?” Daniel straightens up. Armand steps back, jaw muscles working. Daniel practically tumbles off the bed going after him. “Believe what?” 

“That it was an act of love,” Armand turns back to him. He takes a deep shuddering breath. His eyes remain wide as they lock onto Daniel. He gestures to himself, the movement manic and sharp. “This is not love. It is miserable. Empty. Years pass and centuries change all while I take life after life to sustain my own, unless I set myself aflame. It is a curse, one I refuse to enact. Do not ask me again.” 

Daniel stares at him, fascinated by the emotion in his voice and on his face. His own rage burns deep within his chest. “Or what? You’ll kill me?” 

“Daniel.” There’s a warning in Armand’s tone. Daniel is ready to ignore it, but he’s disarmed by the open pain on Armand’s face, though it disappears as though he blinked it away. 

“Fine.” Daniel hears himself say hollowly. “Then I’ll leave.” 

“Do it, then. If that’s what you desire. But I will not help you this time.” 

“I don’t fucking need help. And you know what I desire.” Daniel hisses as he pulls on his trousers, attempting to replicate Armand’s distinct accent. 

“I cannot give it.” 

Daniel bites back the dozen responses that wait on his tongue, knowing Armand can hear them either way, as he makes a show of grabbing his belongings.  

Armand moves suddenly to his side, so sharply that Daniel nearly startles when he turns. Daniel avoids his eyes as cool fingers gently come to rest on his collar bone. Daniel stills as they smooth over the puncture wounds on his neck. They linger on the smooth skin, lightly tracing along the tendons of Daniel’s neck. 

“I cannot give it,” Armand says, so softly that Daniel isn’t sure he said it aloud. Daniel is not in the mood for this. 

“You know, there’s a difference between not being able to do something and not wanting to do something,” Daniel puts on his lecture voice as he shoulders his messenger bag. “You don’t want to give it. You should think about fixing your wording.”

Armand catches his wrist in a vice grip and holds his gaze as though he were about to say something. 

“Don’t send your fucking apologies,” Daniel yanks his arm back, a far easier feat than he thought it would be. Armand practically flinches away from him. “I don’t want them.”

–

Armand disappears for a while. 

No contact, no gifts, nothing. 

Good, Daniel thinks at first. 

He finds his way back to the United States, to his tiny San Francisco apartment, without Armand’s help. 

Daniel hardly keeps track of how long it is because of his own obligations. He works, he writes, he drinks, he gets high, he thinks about Armand. 

One night, as he’s drinking and watching shitty late-night TV, a horror sets in: he misses Armand. He misses waking up next to him and watching him ramble about whatever new technology or film or book had captured his attention. It was undeniably endearing, even if he did wake Daniel up the wee hours of the morning to do so. He misses his kiss, the steady presence of his body at night, and his blood smeared against Daniel’s, the taste lingering until Daniel has to wash it out with Listerine before work. Cocaine and alcohol do nothing to replicate the high of Armand.

He’s not exactly sure what Armand does in their time apart. He must work, somehow, where else would he get his money? He might go back to someone else. Daniel swears he can remember a partner from the night of their first encounter, but it’s all so hazy. Whatever the case, he knows better than to ask, and more importantly: he knows Armand is unhappy. 

Armand never admits it, but Daniel recognizes the behavior far too well. Unhappiness manifests in denial. It’s patched over with a temporary escape, which in this case, happens to be Daniel. The cycle continues until they fall apart, just to fall back together again.

They had just barely allowed themselves to slowly start the shift away from that cycle before their last argument. Armand would stay with him for longer. They’d talk, they’d argue, they’d laugh, they’d have sex that Daniel knows irritates his neighbors. Armand would accompany him on errands, asking questions about everything he did.

Armand had become a consistent presence in his life. He’s not quite sure what to do with himself without him. 

One morning, after almost six months, Daniel wakes up to Armand lying next to him. It should startle him, but it doesn’t. 

Armand isn’t asleep. He’s staring at the ceiling, wearing one of Daniel’s t-shirts and a pair of his pajama pants. He’s been here a while, then. 

Armand greets him with a small smile and a kiss. He doesn’t acknowledge their last meeting. In fact, he hardly speaks at all. What does instead is quietly follow Daniel while he goes about his day. He listens attentively as Daniel complains about work. They do Daniel’s laundry together. Daniel makes a simple dinner while Armand presses against him with arms around his waist. Armand reads with his head on Daniel’s shoulder in front of the TV, Daniel’s fingers mindlessly winding through his curls. 

They pass almost a week this way. It’s frighteningly domestic. Daniel likes it; he’s always liked these moments. Yet, it’s unnerving, as though he’s waiting for the other shoe to finally drop. He’s afraid to ask why the sudden change, but he can’t help but enjoy it while he has it. They’ve never been able to fall into something regular because as soon as it feels comfortable, they lash out to avoid confronting that feeling.

So, Daniel waits all week for the inevitable searing kiss, the teeth in his neck, the hand holding his face in a pillow. It’s how their nights almost always end when Armand feels helpless. It’s his show of reclaiming control, if not over the rest of his life, then at least over Daniel.

It never comes. When they go to bed, Armand tangles his limbs with Daniel’s. He’s always pressed even closer when they wake– at least, when Daniel wakes. He’s not quite sure if Armand is sleeping, but his appearance doesn’t give any indication of exhaustion. His appearance doesn’t give much indication of anything.

Until Daniel catches Armand’s eyes lingering on his neck as he eats his breakfast. He realizes, with sudden clarity, that Armand is hungry. In their proximity and the morning light, the changes in Armand’s face become clear. His cheekbones are sharp and there are shadows in the hollow spaces under his eyes. Armand can go weeks, even months without feeding; these symptoms aren’t the result of only a week without blood. 

Daniel puts down his toast and holds his arm out to Armand, who is curled up on a kitchen chair across from him, now staring absentmindedly at a magazine about recent films. “Drink.”

Armand stares at him as though the concept were foreign.

Daniel sighs and stands up. He rounds the table to sit next to him. He unbuttons the collar of his shirt and pulls it aside. 

Armand’s tired eyes wander over his face. Daniel can’t make out any emotion in his expression, but he lets his own worry come to the forefront of his mind with the knowledge his thoughts are being scanned.

“Come on, baby,” Daniel gently urges. “You’ll feel better.” 

As if commanded, Armand uncurls himself from the chair and pulls Daniel towards him by his waist. Daniel sucks in a breath as fangs tenderly pierce his skin before he slips into the lightheated bliss that accompanies the bite. He cards a hand through Armand’s hair. Armand shivers at the contact, moaning into Daniel’s skin. Daniel bites his own lip at the sound, at the sensation of Armand drinking slowly from him. It’s been far too long since he’s given blood. 

Armand takes more than Daniel is used to, leaving Daniel’s head spinning. Nausea threatens to bring his breakfast back up as he leans against the kitchen table. 

Armand materializes at his side with an energy drink in hand. 

Now it’s Daniel’s turn to stare. “Since when do you give thank yous?”

Armand chews on the inside of his bottom lip. Daniel fixates on the small movement, then on the fact that there is color back in Armand’s cheeks. He’s surprised when Armand leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips. He tastes the lingering iron of his own blood. 

You’ll be late. Armand’s voice weaves through his head. He presses his forehead to Daniel’s and places the bottle in his hands. He’s across the room in the next second, leaving Daniel unsteady and confused.

Daniel manages the trip to his office. By his second hour staring at the article he’s trying (and failing) to write, his head stops spinning from blood loss. By his third hour, he can’t get his mind off of Armand. It wasn’t his first time dedicating his time on the clock to the vampire and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. 

Working hard, I see. Armand’s voice is warm with amusement and affection. 

Bothering me on company time, I see. 

Armand’s soft laugh reassures him. You’re the one thinking loudly from all the way across town. 

Can’t help it. Daniel sorts through his notes. He takes off his glasses and massages the ache in his temples. You’re loads more interesting than this bullshit. 

I’m flattered.

He hopes that the playfulness of Armand’s tone means that he’s feeling better. He’s not sure what to expect when he gets home, but it certainly wasn’t Armand sitting on the corner of his bed, wearing one of his sweaters and staring blankly in front of him. He stirs as if coming out from a trance when Daniel places his bag down and crouches in front of him. Daniel runs his hands up his thighs. The coolness of his skin beneath the flannel of the pajama Armand had stolen from him indicates he still hasn’t gone out to hunt. 

“There’s dinner for you in the kitchen,” Armand says softly. His eyes aren’t quite on Daniel’s face. 

“Armand, what’s wrong?” Daniel fights to keep frustration out of his tone. 

There’s that blank stare. The flash of anger that blazes like a match before being extinguished. Daniel knew it would be pointless to ask. 

“Right,” He purses his lips. “God fucking forbid that you’re honest with me.” 

Armand’s eyes follow him as he stands up. There’s visible pain on his face, no effort made to conceal it. Daniel’s too exhausted to pry, his body still feeling the effects of the blood loss from that morning.

After he’s eaten and showered, Daniel slips into bed beside Armand. He knows immediately Armand is not asleep by the stiffness of his form. Sleep is the one time that he relinquishes control of his body. 

Daniel stares at the ceiling for a bit. Then he turns to Armand, watching the slow rise and fall of his back. This past week has felt like they were a normal couple. 

Except it’s weird that the vampire was in bed before he was. It’s weird that Armand has hardly spoken all week and that he’s starved and clingy— well, clingier than usual. It’s weird that Armand doesn’t want to drink from him. 

“You know, you can talk to me,” Daniel says into the stillness of the room. 

Armand doesn’t stir. Daniel sighs and looks back up at the ceiling. He gnaws on the inside of his lip as frustrated tears sting at his eyes. He blinks them away. Even after all Daniel’s given, after all he’s done for Armand, he’s still in the same spot as he started. 

Why can’t you trust me? 

The mattress shifts as Armand rolls over. Daniel turns to him hopefully. 

Armand reaches up to his own neck to drag a nail across his skin. Blood begins to slowly ooze from the wound. He tilts his chin up. “Drink.” 

“What? That’s not–”

“Please, beloved,” Armand whispers desperately. “Drink.” 

Never one to ignore Armand’s pleas, Daniel leans forward to latch his lips onto his neck. The first drop of blood on his tongue sends a rush through him. A torrent of images pour into him on the current. 

Running on a crowded street. Shackles on his wrists and ankles. Eyes and hands wandering his body, bodies violating him despite the tears in his eyes. Tear stains that burn his face day after day and night after night. He has pain in places he didn’t know could hurt; this repeats until it becomes dull, until tears do nothing but encourage them. He thinks it will never end, that his life will be spent receiving love from people incapable of it, that love is painful. He prays for death.

Then the master appears, appearing like an angel, a beam of light to sweep him away from the brothel. His hands are gentle, his smile inviting, his teeth welcome when they sink into his neck for the first time (Daniel knows this feeling, the high and the ecstasy). There are rooms full of paintings, smelling of oils, full of sunlight as his hands learn to make art instead of giving pleasure. He sits for his master, his body rendered in hundreds of different poses and scenes. He lays in his master’s bed, drinking from his wrist. He finds that he was wrong; love is not painful. Love is pleasure, just as there is pleasure in the bite. 

He’s sent off with strangers who touch him like the visitors to the brothel, as though he were theirs. And he is, for the night; he’s pliant and obedient, then he goes back home to his master, who greets him with a smile and the bliss of the bite. He begs for more blood, begs to be like his master. The master declines.

He falls ill. His body, once supple, shrivels as the disease ravages his body. The master drinks from him. The master gives him blood from his wrist, only now it tastes different; it tastes sweeter. When he wakes next, his body is dead, though he is not. He is something new and yet the same. His master teaches him how to hunt, how to avoid the sun.

He watches his master burn. The pain of it feels as though he burned as well. 

He’s surrounded by strangers who have eyes and teeth like his. He’s consumed by grief, and the fire in front of him calls to him, but he doesn’t want to die. Not yet. Not when he’s just been given the opportunity to live again. He doesn’t fully hear the words he’s agreed to. He is a Child of Darkness now, dedicated to serving the devil. 

Years pass, then centuries. He is sent to new countries. He regrets to find that emotions do not diminish with time. He feels grief. Anger. Loneliness. Happiness. Rage. Regret. Love. 

Love for his maker, who loved him enough to immortalize him but only in desperation. Love for the passionate golden-haired fledgling who destroyed his Parisian coven. Love for the American vampire who brought with him memories of that same golden hair and could never love him properly because of it. 

Love, all consuming, stronger than anything he’s ever felt, for the human boy addicted to drinking his blood. The fascinating boy, addicted to him and knowing his story. He loathes himself for what he’s put this boy through, yet he can’t seem to let go. 

Memories keep pouring in. Emotions sit heavy on his body as though they were his own. Flashes of his own body, in a room he faintly recognizes, in front of a face he knows as Louis. 

Louis, the vampire he interviewed years ago. The American vampire. 

He sees Armand’s face in a memory he didn’t know he had, sunlight illuminating his hair like a fiery halo around his head, his eyes blazing just as bright. Armand’s voice, distant, I’m told you’ve lived a fascinating life. 

Then Louis’ voice in an elegantly decorated room. All you fucking do is hurt him. Don’t be surprised when he wants to leave your ass for good, or when he overdoses on drugs trying to get as high as your blood makes him. 

Daniel finds himself being eased off of Armand’s neck. He blinks back to the present. Blood-stained tears roll down Armand’s cheeks when he looks up. 

“What was that?” Daniel asks.

“That was me,” Armand swallows thickly. “My life.” 

Armand takes a trembling breath before Daniel gets a chance to speak again. “I do not withhold out of spite. I do it to spare you.” 

“You don’t need to spare me if it's what I want." 

“I wanted it, too.” 

A long silence ensues, stretching long enough that Daniel is worried he said the wrong thing. Cautiously, he takes a hand and wipes away the tears from Armand’s cheeks. He’s bracing himself for the inevitable snap back to their twisted reality when Armand relaxes against him, leaning his face into Daniel’s hand. 

Relief hesitantly flows through Daniel. He presses his lips softly to Armand’s nose, then his cheek.

Armand’s voice timidly floats to him. Am I enough? Is this enough?

It’s such an absurd question that Daniel can’t help but huff a laugh into his shoulder. 

“Of course you are,” Daniel says without hesitation. 

That’s when Armand looks at him with wide eyes and a crease in his brow. He observes Daniel’s face. His expression is painfully vulnerable in a way that Daniel has only seen a couple of times. He looks young, scared— embarrassed, even. All of the traits he puts in such effort to hide are fully on display in the moonlight that seeps through the curtains, all of the traits that make him look most human. He’s seen flashes of history when the blood flows into his mouth, but none so complete as what he’d just seen; inevitably, he tried to ask about it, only to have Armand fly into a rage at the idea of being known. Daniel loved it because it’s the only time Armand let him actually see him. At least, until tonight. 

Daniel slowly raises the vampire’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to each finger. 

“Are you certain?” Armand breathes, swallowing thickly. His eyes follow Daniel’s movement. 

“Yes,” Daniel assures between kisses up Armand’s wrist. “You are all I want, you should know that by now.” 

Armand stares at him for another long beat, assessing him. Daniel knows his thoughts are being sorted through. Armand’s brow relaxes minutely. Then, he leans in for a tentative kiss, almost as though he thought Daniel would refuse him. It’s long and deep; it’s the kind of kiss they usually reserve for after they’ve both finished as they catch their breath, if Armand doesn’t leave him shuddering against the mattress on his own. 

Armand pulls back first, resting his forehead against Daniel’s. He’s so quiet and still that Daniel is half afraid he’s about to leave.

When Daniel pulls back, there’s that concerned furrowed brow again, above wide and concerned eyes. These are the remnants of the boy who was turned some 450 years ago seeping through the cracks of an otherwise crystalline veneer. It’s a quiet, empty despair that Daniel knows Armand hates; he hates the reminder of how helpless he used to be, how helpless he still is. The simplicity was, after all, why he made such an effort to hide.

Seeing him so open made a rush of emotions leap into Daniel’s throat, all bubbling into I love you. I love you. I love you. After all, that’s what it’s always been. It’s what pulls Daniel back time and time again. 

“Say it out loud,” Armand whispers like a plea. His fingers fumble with Daniel’s t-shirt and his eyes follow the movement.  

Daniel wraps a gentle hand around his wrist and eases it away, then uses that same hand to tilt Armand’s chin up. He looks nearly on the brink of tears, jaw working as he gnaws on his inner lower lip. 

Daniel leans in again. Just before their lips connect, he murmurs, “I love you.”

He repeats it and Armand kisses him harder, deeper than the first. Daniel immediately gets lost in it, knowing what it means when Armand pulls him closer and opens his mouth for his tongue. 

He’s being kissed like Armand needs him to breathe, as though his lips are the gateway to heaven from which he’s long been denied. A leg hooks over Daniel’s thigh, a hand winds into his hair. There’s a desperation in the touch that isn’t usually present, keeping Daniel as close as physically possible. He feels Armand’s love pumping through him in the blood he swallowed.

They gasp as Armand begins to roll his hips into Daniel. He already feels high from the contact, but he needs more, more, more. He needs Armand’s hands everywhere, needs him gasping his name as he only does when he’s close or when it’s a particularly needy night.

Daniel adjusts his hips while his lips wander down the side of Armand’s neck. Armand arches into him with a soft gasp. 

“Tell me what you want, baby,” Daniel coaxes gently against his ear, savoring the shudder that runs through Armand, amused by the soft huff that follows. Just from body language alone, Daniel doesn’t need to be told what he wants, but he has the petty desire to hear it anyway.

“Daniel,” Armand answers with a touch of impatience that Daniel knows is carefully concealed embarrassment. 

Daniel sinks his teeth into Armand’s neck, not nearly hard enough to draw blood, but Armand whines against him nonetheless. He runs his free hand down Armand’s side, feeling the quick expansion and contraction of his ribs beneath his fingertips. The muscles of his abdomen twitch as he drags his hand towards his hip. “I want you to say it.” 

Armand’s fingers tighten in his hair. Fuck me.

The words, paired with the hitch of his breath, send desire flaring through Daniel’s body, a sensation as warm and exhilarating as the blood. Not quite ready to let Armand win so easily, he clicks his tongue then bites down on Armand’s collarbone. “Ask nicely.” 

“Please,” Armand tries to roll his hips, but Daniel holds them firmly in place. Armand could very easily break out of his grip. He doesn’t. 

Daniel soothes the bite with his tongue. He feels the skin heal as he does. He drags his tongue from Armand’s clavicle to his jaw. The vampire’s skin is tasteless, lacking the familiar metallic taste of human skin, but the taste of Daniel’s soap lingers. 

Armand tilts his chin to greet Daniel’s mouth in an open-mouthed kiss. Daniel’s tongue brushes past extended fangs. A delighted shiver runs down his spine knowing Armand has already started to lose control. 

Daniel doesn’t want to give in just yet. He wants to hear it again. He lets Armand know as much and receives a bite to the lip, hard enough to draw blood that Armand quickly laps up. He expects frustration. He knows he’s testing Armand’s patience as they venture into new territory. Remembering what happened the last time he tried to order Armand around, he expects to be flipped over onto his back. 

“Please.” Armand repeats breathlessly into Daniel’s mouth as he tugs him impossibly closer. He sounds near his wit’s end, already so ruined even though Daniel has hardly touched him. 

Daniel only breaks their kiss to wrap an arm around Armand’s waist and roll on top of him, his free hand quickly coming to balance on the mattress. Arms immediately come to wrap over his neck, a leg hooks over the back of his thigh to press their hips together. 

Amber eyes stare up at him, the color almost obscured by full pupils. He can feel the hunger radiating off Armand. He can feel the uncertainty of this new dynamic. He sees the way Armand’s tongue runs over his fangs and the slight crease of his brow. He wishes he could know what was going on behind that expression, that he could pry Armand’s mind open the same way his own had been time and time again. The high from earlier was already wearing off. Daniel wants to drown in Armand; in his blood, his thoughts, his memories. He wants him forever, in his love and his malice.

The problem is, Armand won’t give me forever. One day that won’t be enough. It’s not enough now.

If Armand hears these thoughts, he gives no indication. He’s pulled Daniel back into a messy kiss. 

He makes quick work of forgetting it by rolling his hips down, his erection aching for friction. Armand whines into his mouth and bucks into him for more, but Daniel keeps the pace languid. He runs his free hand up Armand’s thigh, which is still covered by a pair of Daniel’s pants.

We need to get you out of these. Daniel mouths at Armand’s neck before he leans back on his heels, looping his fingers in the waistband of Armand’s pants and pulling them smoothly down. Armand’s erection springs free, leaking pre-cum from the tip, as he lifts his hips off the mattress. Daniel’s mouth waters at the sight. 

There are fingers at the hem of Daniel’s t-shirt, pushing it up and over his head. Armand quickly discards the shirt and mirrors the action by quickly pulling the sweater over his head. 

Daniel leans over to the bedside table for the bottle of lube he keeps there, his eyes following the long lines of Armand’s body as he does. 

The street lights that filter in through the curtains illuminate the flush on Armand’s cheeks. Red and blue neons highlight the mass of curls that frames Armand’s face on the pillow and accentuate the lean muscles of his limbs. Orange eyes have fallen to Daniel’s neck. His fangs creep out further as his chest heaves with his breath. His eyes snap back to Daniel’s face. He looks hungry. He looks vulnerable. He finally looks like himself; it’s insanely hot. Daniel wants to ruin him, wants him whimpering and sobbing his name, wants him to know he’s his. He makes sure not to keep that thought to himself. 

A smile creeps onto Armand’s parted lips. His eyes blaze. All yours, beloved.

Daniel presses his lips above Armand’s navel, savoring the flutter of the muscles beneath the skin. All mine.

Armand shivers. A hand settles in his hair and tries to tug him up. Daniel just looks up at him through his lashes, lips on Armand’s hip. He takes his lips down further and digs his teeth into Armand’s inner thighs, before taking Armand’s erection loosely in hand and stroking slowly. 

Daniel. Armand’s tone is sharp and bordering on annoyed, but he bites his lip and tilts his head back. The grip on Daniel’s hair tightens. 

He lazily kisses up Armand’s stomach. “Don’t hide in your head. I wanna hear you say it in that pretty voice of yours.” 

The frustration on Armand’s face thrills Daniel. He knows that Armand is fighting the urge to regain control, but he’s completely at Daniel’s will tonight, shuddering with every touch. 

“What do you want?” Daniel asks again, then latches his lips to Armand’s chest to suck a bruise as he tightens the grip of his hand.

“You,” Armand rolls his hips up. “I’m all yours, Daniel, now please fuck me—  please, Daniel,”

He’s practically babbling. Ever at the whim of the devil, the last of Daniel’s patience snaps and he moves quickly to reconnect their mouths. He swallows Armand’s heady moan. 

“There we go, was that so hard?” Daniel fumbles blindly for the lube, regaining his balance over Armand as he coats his fingers. 

“I don’t need it,” Armand shakes his head. 

“Well, you’re getting it.” Daniel mutters against his cheek, dipping his hand between Armand’s legs. He thinks of the pain Armand’s memories showed him. The pain of not being prepared properly. 

Armand stills minutely. Then, softly, “Quickly, then.” 

He wastes no time in gently pressing a finger into Armand. He feels Armand’s exhale of relief on his ear, then feels lips on his ear lobe. 

By the time Daniel adds a second finger, Armand is mouthing at his neck. Saliva drips down his skin.

“Not yet,” Daniel hums and turns to kiss his temple. Armand whines breathily against his skin, long and wanton, on the verge of tears with need. Daniel laughs softly, but not with malice. “Oh, I know, baby.” 

Armand’s nails dig into his back as he adds a third finger. He rolls his hips on Daniel’s hand. 

When he kisses a path from Armand’s cheekbone to his lips, Daniel’s tongue is greeted by fangs that seem impossibly sharper. He runs his tongue along the points, relishing Armand’s full body shiver and the way he starts to grind insistently on his fingers. He can taste his own skin on Armand’s tongue.

As soon as Daniel pulls his fingers from Armand, there are hands on Daniel’s waistband tugging his pants down his thighs. Daniel’s erection, long neglected, stands at attention. He sits back on his heels, not even bothering to get his pants off. Daniel groans as Armand wraps a hard around him. He carefully pours lube onto himself, letting Armand do the work of spreading it. 

Armand stares up at him hungrily with heavy-lidded eyes. He shifts his hips down. Daniel spreads his legs, holding him by the backside of his knees. 

Planting one hand on the outside of Armand’s head, Daniel uses his free hand to line himself up and press into Armand. He resists the urge to close his eyes in favor of watching those swollen lips part and amber eyes roll back. Fully bottomed out, he runs a hand along the side of Armand’s thigh as legs wrap around his waist. 

He slowly rolls his hips. He tilts the angle until Armand throws his head back with a groan. He’s pulled into a bruising kiss. They gasp into each other’s mouths as Armand’s arms return to their place wrapped over Daniel’s neck, keeping their faces mere centimeters from each other. 

“Please, Daniel, let me,” Armand breathes unsteadily, his words frantic. “I need it, god, please.” 

“Yes, take it,” Daniel nods. “As much as you need.” 

Nimble fingers wind into Daniel’s curls, gently tilting his head to the right. Lips fasten to his neck, then comes the sting of the fangs. Daniel groans directly into Armand’s ear. God, yes, drain me–

Daniel thrusts deeper, hand still on Armand’s hip. Armand moans into his skin and tightens the grip on his hair. He feels the skin against him slowly warm.

All for you, Daniel thinks drunkenly. All yours. 

Mine. Armand takes one last gulp and then pulls off, gasping for air. Daniel feels a little lightheaded and more than a little drunk with pleasure. Blood paints Armand’s lips like lipstick. Daniel wastes no time in kissing it off, tasting himself on Armand’s tongue. He kisses along Armand’s neck and collarbone, all the while keeping his thrusts deep and measured, punching out soft whines with each roll of his hips. 

Armand melts beneath him, legs locked around his waist. All yours, comes his measured voice, echoing Daniel’s words. 

“What’d I say earlier?” Daniel pants against his lips, taking the time to pull on Armand’s lower lip with his teeth. “Say it out loud.” 

“Yours,” Armand’s voice comes out a breathless sob. “All yours.” 

“That’s it.” Daniel rewards him with a deep thrust and sets a faster pace. “All mine. God, you’re so beautiful like this.” 

Armand cries out into his shoulder, a low and guttural sound that Daniel has only heard a few times before. Pointed nails drag down his back, holding him impossibly close, as though Armand were trying to permanently intertwine their bodies. Daniel loves it; he loves feeling each shudder of breath and each moan as if it were his own. He shifts his hand down to behind Armand’s knee and pushes his leg up to deepen the angle of his thrust. Armand wraps his own arms over Daniel’s head, locking their foreheads together. 

Armand sobs his name against his mouth. He begs, voice breaking beautifully with pleasure. 

Daniel is addicted to this version of Armand, the version that he keeps so carefully tucked away;  so desperate, so hungry, so vulnerable, so openly in love. Daniel feels it even as Armand repeats the words breathlessly as his orgasm builds. Daniel feels the shudder of Armand’s abs under his as he chases his own orgasm. 

Praise spills from his mouth, incoherent to his own brain as he thrusts deeper. God, baby you feel so good. You’ve done so well for me– fuck, I love you.

Armand comes suddenly, throwing his head back with a high moan in the back of his throat, Daniel’s name mixed up somewhere in the sound. Daniel follows with a groan as Armand’s body clenches around him. 

They lie intertwined together for so long after that Daniel loses track of time. Armand’s head rests on his chest, fingers dancing around the puncture wounds before he uses his blood to heal them. Daniel dozes off, satiated and exhausted, Armand wrapped up in his arms. 

When he wakes, what must be only a couple of hours later, his brain is foggy. Armand must have taken even more than he thought. It takes him a while to register the figure sitting up next to him. He starts to sit up as he tries to rub the sleep from his eyes. Armand hushes him as he tries to speak.

“Sleep, beloved,” Armand whispers, cradling his head and running a hand through his hair. “Sleep.”

Daniel does as he’s told, sinking back into the mattress, but there’s something wrong. He hears it in the quiet break of Armand’s voice.

“Everything is fine,” Armand is smiling gently at him. Daniel’s eyes are on the verge of closing when lips press to his. Daniel gives in and closes his eyes. The kiss is deep. He tastes salt and iron. “Sleep now.” 

Something’s wrong. He’s too tired to figure out what it is. He’s just barely aware of Armand’s forehead pressed to his. Soft curls tickle his face. 

Armand’s voice in his head is the last thing he hears before he drifts back to sleep. 

I love you.

– 

Daniel has forgotten something. 

It nags at him, beating almost in time with the pounding headache he’s got. Was it a deadline? Surely not. He’s never missed a deadline. A date, perhaps– but there’s no one on his answer machine yelling at him for standing them up. 

The feeling drives him crazy for weeks. He sifts through possibilities– abandoned dry cleaning? A guest lecture? Shit, had classes started already? No, it’s only July. He’s still got time to finalize his syllabus. 

Then he meets Alice at a bar.

There’s something so familiar about the curl of her dark hair, her sharp cheek bones, and the way she analyses him from across the bar with a keen smile. The shade of her lipstick is the color of blood. 

Daniel is instantly attracted to her.