Redecorate Me

by TheAngelsAreWatch1ng

Summary:

"I know I might look naive to you, but I am an adult in my own right," said Rashid as he ashed his cigarette over the balcony railing. His voice was as soft as silk.

The bony part of his wrist peaked between the leather glove and the long sleeve of his shirt, so delicate and pretty that Daniel wondered if a strong enough gust of wind could snap it in half. Or maybe a hard grip would do the trick. "Mr. Du Lac is not my keeper. I do not need his permission to seek my own pleasure."

"So you try to fuck all your bosses' guests?"

Rashid shook his head. "No, only you."

 

— An alternative universe in which two-time Pulitzer winning, retired reporter and journalist Daniel Molloy embarks on a very ill-advised affair with the help.

Notes:

English is not my mother language, it is my whore language. That's all the warning you'll get x

Chapter 1: Say Something

Notes:

Content Warning: Daniel makes two racially insensitive comments about Louis to Rashid but has sense knocked into him afterwards. This does not repeat in later chapters.

"Your coffee, Mr. Molloy," said the help as he put the ceramic cup and saucer on the wooden table, voice soft and saccharine and fuckable. “Careful, it is still hot.”

The penthouse was a seductive, brutalist nightmare. Slate grays and open, empty space. No carpets, no curtains. No softness. Just a stiff, gray couch, some chairs in the far corner of the vast space, and a table which Daniel propped up his laptop and mic on, and now this cup of coffee. No remarkable scents outside the antiseptic you'd smell at the doctor's office. The Francis Bacon paintings behind the stiff gray couch weren't exactly to the reporter's taste. Nothing about the state of this penthouse or Dubai was to his taste, but the view certainly was something.

The skyscrapers were bathed in a warm hue, proving to his skeptical mind why Dubai was called the City of gold. He was itching to go out on the balcony and look down the height and imagine what the predator of man must feel like living above everything, but he stayed reclined in his seat.

A polite smile graced Daniel’s face for a second before he dropped it. He reached out with his unsteady hand to prove a point.

The left hand held the saucer while the right held the cup itself. It was of a delicate, Eastern design, with petals engraved into the smooth grooves of the red and gold ceramic. The liquid inside was the color of warm mocha. Daniel brought the thin edge of the cup to his lips and drank from it without blowing on the steam.

Black coffee with a dollop of cream, no sugar. He could drink it black no problem, Daniel would swallow anything that would push away the dazedness his medication found him in these days, but he always secretly preferred a sweetener. Odd how the help knew that. But then again maybe it wasn’t, considering this was the help of a mind reading vampire. Who knows what else Louis told his assistant about Daniel Molloy’s tastes.

The help, who’s name was Rashid, could barely be in his late twenties. Rashid was all prudish black clothes, black gloves, black hair and striking black eyes. Now, what else to make of Rashid: Native to Dubai like most of the staff, although he wouldn't indulge Daniel's questions on his past during their drive from the airport. He kept mostly quiet, looking loudly at Daniel from the peripherals as if he thought the old man was blind, dumb and deaf alongside terminally ill.

There were some big, deer-like eyes in the kid's skull. They were staring at him right now as he drank from the cup, and they looked relieved when Daniel hummed agreeably at the tongue scorching aftertaste.

Daniel put the cup down on its saucer. He looked down at the digital clock on his wrist and droned, “When do you think Blacula’s coming out of the woodworks? I’ve got my daughter screaming my head off through the phone scheduled for 11 PM, I won’t miss it for the world.”

Pushing boundaries, as always, not meaning what he says when he gets this mean. More curious to see how Rashid will react if anything.

The help did not react all that much.

He raised a delicate brow and said,

“Mr. De Pointe Du Lac will be here shortly. I advise you to refrain from using racially insensitive nicknames in his presence.” Rashid also had a cute little British accent.

Posh. European. From what little Daniel could gander from the initial interview, Louis liked his men sounding posh and European.

“But I can use racially insensitive nicknames behind Big Bad Voodoo Daddy’s back, right?” Daniel goaded on sardonically.

Rashid cracked a little Mona Lisa smile. In his eyes there was a warning.

“There is no doing anything behind anyone’s back while residing here, Mr. Molloy.”

That sounded like the truth. There was something about the place that made Daniel feel inexplicably watched. Maybe it was the emptiness of it; no furniture to hide behind. Maybe it was the fact this was the home to somebody who had taken thousands of lives and will continue to take more. Once upon a time, Daniel almost became one of those thousands.

His hand started to tremble more. Rashid had the grace to ignore it.

"Do you remember the conditions for living here?" he asked, curt.

Daniel was beginning to get the impression that Rashid had a tendency to act far more bossy than his pay grade allowed. He'd have to nip that at the bud one way or another. He reached for the cup again. "Sure thing: only stay on floor 30 and 29, and don't call Mr. De Pointe Du Lac any racially insensitive nicknames." He took a long slurp of the annoyingly perfect coffee. "Do you remember my conditions, Rashid?"

It didn't surprise the older man that the help ignored his question. He raised his delicate eyebrows further into his forehead and looked at Daniel imploringly as he said, "I want to remind you that the contract has already been signed, and that under no circumstances should there be a repeat of what happened last time."

"What do you know about last time, you weren't even born yet," Daniel grumbled as he sipped his coffee. A few drops spilled into the saucer underneath.

"I've heard enough. I heard it was catastrophic." Rashid continued to ignore how the coffee cup violently shook in Daniel's hand, how there became a steady spill of the steaming hot liquid on the ground.

The kid had the habit of resembling a statue at times. No expression on that pretty face, no movement. As inhuman a human could possibly get. It made Daniel wonder where the hell Louis picked him up from.

Rashid looked into the far distance as he continued to say, "I heard it nearly cost you your life, Mr. Molloy. Now it will cost Mr. Du Lac's."

Fortunately enough Daniel managed to put the saucer and cup back on the table before he dropped both. It was empty, however, and most of the content was a Rorsarch between his feet. Daniel cleared his throat to gather the help's attention.

At least Rashid was fast. He fetched a rag that most likely cost more than Daniel's entire wardrobe, and he got on his knees.

"Jesus, kid. I can clean it up myself," Daniel sputtered, mildly embarrassed. Fucking Parkinsons.

It was too late. Rashid had already bowed his head somewhere around Daniel's right knee, wiping furiously at the floor with the rag. Daniel leaned further back in his seat and tried his best to make sure no part of his body touched the younger man.

"You are a guest, Mr. Molloy, don't be ridiculous." Rashid turned to look up at him. His dark eyes were piercing as they looked into bright green ones. "Your comfort is my utmost priority."

Daniel would never admit it, but the younger man looked like some sort of Renaissance painting while beneath him; inky curls spilling around Rashid's cherub face and framing his high cheekbones. The warm shade of his brown skin and the curve of his nose and the length of his dark eyelashes reminded Daniel of Alice when she was young and beautiful and in love with him. Rashid also reminded him of someone else, but it was a face and name that slipped through his hands like water.

Disregard, Daniel thought to himself in a brief but intense, gutting panic. His head began to hurt.

Disregard, disregard, disregard.

So Daniel let Rashid mop up the mess and discard the rag. He waited with bated breath for Louis to join them. Rashid sat at one of the chairs in the far corner of the room and did the same.

 

(“You’ve grown old, Daniel,” were the first words the vampire Louis De Pointe Du Lac said to him after decades since their first interview.

Daniel refrained from looking at the coffee stain on the saucer, or the tremble in his hand, or the nine yard look in youthful Rashid’s eyes as he sat in the corner and stared at nothing. He refused to think of the long road paved with questionable life choices he had made which led him to this penthouse a few months shy from age 70.

He’s grown old, indeed.)

Chapter 2: Spill the Milk

His guest room was not dissimilar to the rest of the penthouse's very peculiar brand of soulless rich person interior design, which meant that it was gray slates for walls and flooring, and prison bars for a headboard. No rug, no curtains. Not even an ugly painting to break up the monotony, and Daniel was unsure whether that was a good thing or not. However the bed itself was the most luxurious thing Daniel had slept on his entire life.

It was a king size, for starters, and the mattress was the memory form variant which Daniel had been pussyfooting around buying for ages. The duvet was made of pure silk. He wished his dream could have been half as pleasant as the smell of crisp, clean sheets had been to his nose.

A soft knock on the door woke him up early in the morning. Daniel grabbed the digital clock at his nightstand to squint at.

7AM.

What the hell. Daniel hadn't woken that early since he had to drive the girls to school, and he barely managed it even then.

With slippers on his feet and sleep crust in his eyes, Daniel made a very brave journey to the door on the far side of the room.

Rashid was on the other side of the door. He looked the same as he did yesterday, which was to say annoyingly handsome. He wore a black kurta done all the way up to Adam's apple, slacks, and a soft cardigan. The trolley he had with him was loaded with all sorts of foods, small crystalline bowls filled with honey and nuts, and a gigantic silver coffee pot. The kid would have looked truly domestic if it wasn't for the leather gloves swallowing up his hands up to the birdlike wrist bone.

"Good morning, Mr. Molloy," he greeted, perky despite the hour. "Breakfast?"

Daniel debated slamming the door on his face and going back to bed, but the food on the trolley smelt too good and a strong coffee would be nice right about now. Daniel sighed, scrubbed a hand over his face and let the younger man into his room.

Dish after dish of golden colored Arabic food that Daniel had never seen before were being gently placed on his finewood desk by even gentler hands; the sweet and savory smell made his mouth water. He suddenly became very interested in eating everything all at once and then going back to sleep, but Rashid was still busy setting down sterling silver cutlery one by one.

"The appetizer for today will be the Chebab, which is an Emirato saffron and cardamom pancake brushed with melting butter. The main course is Shakshuka with feta cheese: a Maghrebi breakfast dish which consists of eggs poached in a sauce of tomatoes, olives, and garlic, garnished with cayenne pepper — and for dessert there will be Balaleet: a sweet and savory dish consisting of vermicelli sweetened with sugar, cardamom, and rose water served alongside an omelet with syrup and dates on the side. You also have various cheeses, honey, and grapes at your disposal." Rashid explained each dish, the ethnic names rolling out of his tongue in a way which made Daniel slightly dizzy. "Louis paid for the top chefs of this country to come and make this breakfast for you. We hope everything is to your liking."

"So it's Louis, now, " Daniel groused in response. His hand snuck underneath the wrinkled white t-shirt he slept in to scratch idly at his stomach. "Speaking of Louis: is he awake yet?"

Rashid's wide eyes went south. He turned back to the feast.

He began to pour coffee from the dramatically huge coffee pot into a small porcelain cup, its bitter odor hanging heavy in the air. Steaming hot.

"No, of course not. He wakes when the sun sets," he replied, suddenly standoffish.

"So why the hell am I awake now?"

Rashid raised his chin defiantly. He pressed his lips flat together for a brief few seconds, a clench to his jaw. Maybe Louis' perfect little helper had a mean side to him beneath the doe eyes and constant state of servitude.

"You are human, are you not? Three meals a day are mandatory for you to function optimally. Approximately four hours must pass between each meal for the sake of maintaining a healthy digestion." The leather gloves squeaked against each other due to how hard Rashid gripped them. "Hospitality is a vital principle here in the Emirates, and Mr. De Pointe Du Lac wouldn't take it kindly if he found out that the staff encouraged unhealthy eating habits in his guests."

Back to misters, I see, was his first thought. His second was, does he always talk like an alien new to earth? For once Daniel decided to not say any of those thoughts out loud. He needed some grub before he could start sleuthing. The man sighed and put his hands on his hips. This was a pose he hit often when he did wrong by his daughters and had to fess up.

"Alright, I’m sorry. I’m still jet lagged and seriously not a morning person, you know how it is. Right. Well, thanks for all the food, everything looks really great," Daniel confessed. He had to give it to the kid, or whoever it was that picked these meals: they sure knew a thing or two about presentation.

Rashid, taken aback by the sincerity in Daniel's thanks, failed to suppress a smile. He ducked his head, bid him a good day, and trolleyed out of the room.

Daniel looked at his retreating back from the corner of his eyes, not ignorant to the grace of the younger man's spine, nor the shapeliness of his bare ankles.

He shuddered at himself. It made him feel like the stereotypical dirty old man, leering at the kid that way. That wasn't usually his style. But Daniel couldn't deny there was something about Rashid that piqued his interest. Not only the physical, although that certainly helped. His mood swings were part of it, the glare in his eyes. It was clear that the help was against him being there, but for what reason?

Another pin on that. Daniel settled down on his ergonomic chair. It was plush yet firm. Perfect for his senior citizen back.

He began to dine while looking through his notes from last night's session. It was a difficult task to piece together the vengeful, petty things said about Frenchie back in San Francisco with the romanticized poetry he heard Louis wax about the guy less than twenty four hours ago, but Daniel did his best with what he got. He lost himself in the process of eating and ruminating for one more hour until he realized he still hadn't taken a shower since he was on the other side of the world map.

Daniel stood from his seat and padded across the floor towards the bathroom suite. He flicked a switch beside the door and the spotlights turned on, engulfing the suite in a low, moody light. The floor tiles were a smooth, ashy brown while the walls and ceiling were the classic shade of brutalist-gray. Hands-free sink made of matte, black steel with a Wenge counter. Expensive hand soaps and lotions were lined on said counter, and there hung washcloths and bathing robes on the nooks between the sink and shower.

Daniel couldn't decide what was the most extraneous part of the setup: the tinted window which swallowed up the wall to the left and gave a full view of Dubai's skyscrapers, the shower which was large enough for four people to have a theatrical orgy inside, or the bonsai tree propped up beside the bathtub.

At least the bathtub was a piece of art. A large, smooth black slab of stone with a matte finish. The edges were rounded off and there was a small, wooden staircase leading up its side.

Bathtub it was.

The first thing Daniel did was to turn on the electric roller blinds and pull them all the way down over the skyline. The second was to plug the drain, twist the smooth, black faucet and fill the bathtub with hot water. Chuck a soap or two. The umpteenth thing; he began to undress.

It was always the same steps. First Daniel removed his glasses and his compression socks, which he placed gently on the counter. He chucked off his t-shirt, his gray sweatpants, and his underwear into a messy pile on the floor that would be a bitch to pick up later. Daniel didn't peek at himself in the mirror the way he used to when he was young. Not because he hated the way he looked. He was too old to care about such things. A body was a body at the end of the day; it didn't have to look pretty to get the job done. Not that it did much of that anymore, terminal illness and all that, but Daniel tried to not get too existential about it while off the clock.

It was simply twenty year old Daniel who has been too shallow for his own good. Twenty year old Daniel used to dread the day his skin would lose its elasticity and begin to sag. He had been deathly afraid of aging. Hell, he had been more afraid of aging than he had been of dying.

This body had aged anyway, despite all the shit Daniel had put it through. It became softer in places where it used to be hard. Body hair that used to be thick and brown had thinned out with the years and turned gray. This body used to be something he would parade around, an instrument he used to gain his thrills with, and now he simply lived in it, comfortable without having to put up airs. And the water felt fucking great around him. All encompassing and warm, like a womb. The ache in his joints dissipated, and so did the tenseness of his worn muscles. Daniel let out a groan of relief.

He closed his eyes and let the quietness lull him into a false sense of security. The sensation of being watched was barely there.

 

("We call it The Groan," Rashid told Daniel as they stood in front of an old master's painting. It was the first time they talked since breakfast, and now Daniel was about to have dinner. He had put on a moss green button up and a blazer for the occasion. Nothing special by a long shot. It was clear to Daniel that the help felt some particular way about it.

Rashid looked down at his iPad and said with a harder tone, "It won't disturb your meal, which is ready now."

"Did you always work for him?" Daniel asked. His eyebrows were raised. They deepened the wrinkles on his forehead.

"Please, have a seat."

"Did you sign an NDA?" The older man tilted his head a certain way and smiled sardonically. "I mean, is it only work or are you and he…?" and The Groan came wailing back.)

Notes:

Hey guys what’s your HCs for show!Daniel’s ethnic/religious background? personally I think he is Armenian-Jewish on his mother’s side and Irish-American + Catholic on his father’s side x

Chapter 3: On the Silk

Notes:

If you saw the chapter count go up and the tags change then no u didn't... I swear everything is already written and (mostly) edited, I just realized I needed to torture Daniel more and had to crank out a couple more words

On day three, Daniel decided to break one of his two rules for the sake of good old fashioned sleuthing. He wandered through Louis De Pointe Du Lac's empty hallways and meeting rooms, skimmed his eyes through expensive paintings and lingered on the occasional sex dungeon— before he found the swimming pool.

It was a stunning pool. Large and luxurious, framed with Grecian columns. Daniel stood on the top of the swirling staircase leading down to the crystalline water, feet planted on pale marmour tiles as he took in the scent of antiquity and chlorine. He took it all in. The water was bright turquoise, translucent. The glow of it was the only light source in use. There stood a white marble statue on the far end of the pool of impressive size and skill: a man lifted up a woman over his shoulder, his stone fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh, while a third man crouched at the bottom and twisted his head to the side to look up at the pair with anguish.

Daniel lingered on the fluidity of the flailing limbs and the facial expression on the woman, who looked mighty upset about her circumstances. There was something about the shape of her jaw and her cupid's bow which made him frown in thought. The shape of her nose, the furrow of her thin eyebrows.

"You are out of bounds, Mr. Molloy," Rashid called out. His voice echoed against the impossibly tall walls of the swimming hall.

Finally, Daniel looked at him. He spared the best for last.

He was a vision in the water.

Long, toned limbs moved with ease through the water, to the furthest edge of the pool, right in front of the statue. Rashid put his forearms on the ledge and rested there. All that Daniel could see was the back of that pretty head, the hint of defined shoulders and back muscles. He should turn away and leave. Daniel walked down the stairs instead; getting closer. The heel of his dress shoes echoed against the marble steps.

" 'Scuse me. I got lost on the way to the dining room," Daniel lied brazenly. "Can all the staff take a dip whenever they feel like it or is that privilege permitted only for Louis' most special boy?"

"The staff is advised to keep in shape in case un petit coup is in order. I am far from special for upholding my duty."

Hm, bullshit.

None of the other staff was allowed to sit in on Daniel and Louis' interviews for as long as Rashid was allowed. None of the other staff was allowed to so brazenly share their disagreement of Louis' wishes the way Rashid was allowed to. When Daniel took the bait and asked if they were more than employer and employee, Rashid had avoided answering him, which was an answer in itself.

It was highly unethical, whatever it was they had going on. The power imbalance, Daniel could hear a youthful, left-leaning reader of the future book yell into the void which was Twitter Dot Com—not X, never X— when he inevitably wrote and published a chapter about Louis and Rashid. Ethics aside, their entanglement was a clear sign for Daniel that he should stay far away from the kid. Not only was he younger than both his daughters, but Rashid was involved with the most dangerous man on earth. A mind reader with eyes everywhere, someone who thirsted for human blood.

Like most of the penthouse, there was a haunted quality to the swimming hall. There were ghosts drowning in the chlorine, hovering in the wispy glow of turqoise water, and they were watching them with bated breaths. If Daniel was a wise man, he would have turned around and left the moment he stumbled upon it. Rashid waited there, stock still, to see if he would.

Daniel had gotten closer, now. He stood on the other end of the pool, which was still too far away, but he wouldn't move closer. It was Rashid's turn.

Leant up against a column with his arms crossed, Daniel said, "Oh yeah, the little drink. Damek went down like a lead balloon after that one. Those sips could hardly be little if a man that size couldn't endure them." How would this waifish little thing handle fangs in his thin neck?

The young man sucked in a shaky breath, before he proceeded to pull himself out of the water.

Perfect brown skin that glistened with little crystals, a tapered waist, long, long legs. Rashid wore an obscenely small pair of black bathing shorts, as if he knew Daniel would come here and catch him in them. There was something poised and methodological in how he stood; the bend of his legs, the way he stretched his arm out for the small towel hanging on the ledge. The Creation of Adam came to mind. David, as well, a more lithe version. He began to towel off his hair, and even while doing such a casual task Rashid looked like he belonged to an art museum.

He still stood in front of the marble statue. With all that sinewy muscle and dynamic stillness he possessed, he looked like a continuation of it.

"Size has little to do with it. Damek has a habit of giving more than he can handle. He wants to prove that he can take it," Rashid replied. He pinned Daniel to the spot with another glare of those dark eyes. "Especially when he has an audience."

The older man wore the blazer again, but the sleeves were unceremoniously rolled up to his elbows. His forearms were covered in liver spots and gray hairs, the skin tanned and damaged after decades spent boiling underneath the scorching sun. Rashid lingered in these details, in their silence together.

Daniel thought of the fact that he was most certainly meant to sit at the dinner table at the moment and suffer through rich people's food in his lonesome, and that Louis would send the help to fetch him once he realized that Daniel hadn't come at his own volition. Daniel imagined the scandalized looks when help # 2 and #3 realized he wasn't in the guest room either, and that they had somehow managed to let loose the most curious, incorrigible old man in the world and that he could be literally anywhere in the building. They would never guess he was here of all places, but Louis would know. Louis would probably send all his assistants on a wild goose chase anyway. Just for the fun of it.

The mere idea of it made Daniel want to laugh, but he kept it in. Rashid knew this because the jut of Daniel's chin told him so. He knew everything.

And Daniel didn't know this, of course, but the blue light of the pool made his eyes glow. His eyes were brighter than any vampire's that Rashid had ever met.

"Does it really feel as good as Louis described it? Black tar heroin, really," Daniel scoffed, but a hint of sincere curiosity was hidden beneath the mockery. It often was.

The boy hummed, "And more, yes."

Rashid turned around and began to walk towards a smaller statue which he had hung his black bathing robe on. He dripped like sin on the marble tiles.

"Huh. Shame I can't remember it," Daniel replied once he found his voice again.

A beat of silence, before Rashid reached for the soft fabric.

"Maybe it is for the best that you can't remember," he said then.

His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. His back was turned so Daniel couldn't see the word as they left his little cupid's bow mouth. If it wasn't for the vast quietness of the hall, Daniel probably wouldn't have heard it.

But he did, and it made him frown. "Could you repeat that? I didn't hear you."

"Maybe it is for the best that you can't remember," Rashid repeated, tone more loud and terse than last time. He both sounded and looked like some vengeful angel, with how the wet ringlets of curls fell over his intense eyes when he turned his head over his shoulder to look at Daniel. Wet ink on wet ink. "After all, a vampire's bite is one of the most divine drugs there is; it would be a shame for an addict to lose everything to it."

A flicker of irritation made the line of Daniel's lips harden. He had almost forgotten that the kid was a pain in the ass. Spoke of things he had no business mentioning. A brat.

"What's the most divine drug, then, in your professional opinion?" Daniel asked, with more bite than earlier.

Rashid attempted to compose himself. He ran his knuckles across the fabric of the robe, which he still hadn't put on. Soft, plush terrycloth, the softest that there was. Then he shrugged a lone, naked shoulder, the very picture of sensuality.

"The blood, I assume."

Daniel’s mouth went dry. He wetted his lips with his tongue. Looked elsewhere.

Louis hadn't managed to seduce Daniel when he spoke of blood drinking earlier. Pique his interest, maybe, but he had always been curious at heart. Maybe the gothic poetry had worked on him in the seventies, who's to say, but now he felt too old for any of that fantastical, sadomasochistic bullshit. That was what he thought he should feel like, at least. Who knows what his subconscious might allow to bubble to the surface once he's on his deathbed. Daniel has lived a long, full life, which in turn meant a life full of regrets. Can't have one without suffering the other.

Daniel coughed. He looked at the statue this time around and proceeded to change the subject. "So, is the statue another example of Louis coveting the rare, or…"

Rashid was grateful for the subject change. Daniel's last thought had made something awful churn deep in his stomach.

"Ah, The Rape of the Sabine Women. The artist is unknown to this day and his previous works are most likely lost to time," said Rashid as he finally put on the black bathing robe and tied the strings around his waist. He looked up at the statue with an unreadable look. Lost in memory. "The archives say that the piece was made somewhere around the turn of the 14th century, in Venice. Mr. De Pointe Du Lac acquired it in 1965 through an Italian aristocrat on the verge of bankruptcy. The word Raptae originally meant to abduct or kidnap, but its modern meaning is often implied with tales such as these."

No one said anything after that. Not even Daniel, who has never met a reason to shut up in his life. They just looked at the statue together, at the woman's fearful face. Sometimes, a journalist's best tool was silence.

There were old, raised scars at the back of Rashid's upper thighs. They were not framed with the telltale cleanliness of a knife against flesh, but the crackling of that from a whip. Daniel had seen them the moment the younger man rose from the water. He wondered where they came from, and why Rashid had allowed him to see them in the first place. But silence did not work on the impenetrable Rashid. He said nothing more of the statue; he only stared at it with a half blank, half apocalyptic look, before wiping his face clean. It was like watching an actor put on a mask, the way that docile smile crawled up his mouth and rotted there, eyes wide but undeniably shielded.

That was fine. That smile told Daniel more than words ever could.

"Did you need something, Mr. Molloy? Perhaps I could escort you to the dining room." He looked incredibly fragile at that moment. Swallowed up by the bathing robe. It covered his hands and his feet. Daniel thought of those scars again and felt a pang rattle somewhere in his chest.

Those bright eyes lingered even when Daniel turned away. "Nah. I think I got it."

 

("You're lingering, Rashid," Louis scolded the boy as he came up to Daniel with two drinks in his hand. They had just spoken of his encounter with Jonah the foot soldier, of rain, and of the odyssey of recollection. Rashid had been there the entire time, listening in as he made his perfect little Dukes martinis.

"Apologies, Mr. Du Lac," he said before walking away. Daniel refused to track the dark, lithe form even when he felt compelled to do so.)

Chapter 4: Don’t Pussyfoot Around Me

Notes:

Hi guys sorry for the late update, I know that usually when ao3 authors are late that they always have a crazy story to tell but truth be told I’ve just been fucking bitches and getting money.

Fuck it we ball

"We have spoken at length about Alice," said Louis right after they had finished their fourth session. "I think Lucy deserves some love, too."

Daniel slammed the laptop shut just the way he had slapped Louis earlier that day. "And I think you can go to hell."

Louis and Daniel sat on the dining table this time around, various works of old masters like Marius De Romanus hovering over them from every dimly lit wall. The novelty of these hundred course dinners had already worn off so Daniel had stopped dressing up for them. The white gloves were removed and Claudia's diaries escorted. Rashid was glaring holes through the back of his skull. Daniel refused to look back at him or the bandage on his neck. Especially so while in the presence of Louis, who looked awfully smug for a man who had just aired out his subpar parenting. Not that Daniel couldn't relate. That was the annoying thing about Louis. All his faults were mirrored in Daniel; he just looked a whole lot prettier when he was playing the part of cruel asshole.

Daniel ran his finger around the edge of his empty coffee cup. He didn't watch how the digit shook. He stared intently at Louis instead, refusing to shy away from the Vampire's gaze.

In the most harshest, yet possibly most correct way to put it, Lucy had been a rebound wife. 36 year old infamous journalist Daniel Molloy had been heartbroken and broke in general after his divorce with Alice in ‘89, and he had wrapped his talons around Lucy the moment they met during that one boorish work conference somewhere North in Europe.

It should have been a match made in heaven. Lucy had long reaching ties within the publishing industry in both the US and Europe, for starters. They shared the same political views and were interested in the same articles which they would discuss over the dining table, while Alice had barely bothered to read the news. Daniel and Lucy made sense together even though the love wasn't there, and so they got knocked up and married in the span of one year. They had been happy for the brief time it took for Daniel's bad habits to come knocking and ruin everything.

Daniel's marriage with Lucy lasted 16 more years than his marriage with Alice, and yet he couldn't help but compare Lucy to his dark horse of an ex-wife every waking hour of the day. Better yet, he couldn't help but compare Alice to this shadow that hovered over him during the darkest hour of the night. All this comparing and chasing and wanting left him obsolete wherever he went in life. That's when the cheating came in.

Louis chuckled in response to Daniel's irritation, those handsome smile lines appearing alongside his cheeks. "Danny, come on. You think a little infidelity is going to make me judge you?"

"I think you like to cope with your own shitty life decisions by taking it out on me." Daniel seethed, "And for the last time: Stay out of my head."

"What was her name? The young girl who interviewed you for Forbes in 2008? Aisha?" That evil twinkle was back in his moss green eyes. "Amala?"

Louis knew damn well what her name was. He was just being a piece of shit.

Daniel gave in any way. "Anika, and she wasn't some little girl, alright, she was 25 and fucking brilliant. We were two consenting adults, safe and consensual and whatever else the pope preached about."

"She was younger than your first born daughter," Louis pointed out.

"By two years. What, are you a cop now?"

"What was it about Anika that made her attractive to you? Was it her youth? Hmm, no, I don't think so," Louis pondered, voice smooth like honey. "I think it was her mind. You liked the questions she asked you. Her wit. You liked how sharp her manicures were around her pen and that she wore sensible black slacks. You liked that she kept her hair short, how those black curls framed her cherub face like a halo. You liked that she was cruel in bed."

Daniel shut his eyes tightly and suppressed a wince.

The Vampire paid no mind to his discomfort. None whatsoever. He continued to croon, "Even when she hated you, Alice was too soft on you. So was Lucy. Not Anika, though. She thought you were a dirty old man, so she treated you like one. Fuck the pulitzer, and fuck the recognition you had at long last found in your field— those cruel nights spent with her in your marital bed were the most fulfilled you had felt in years."

"May I be excused?" Rashid piped up. His iPad was clenched to his chest and his long eyelashes downcast.

"You may, Rashid," Louis replied, eyes not leaving Daniel.

Rashid ducked out of the way. This time, Daniel did not stop himself from tracking him and the picture he made, the annoyed twitch to his smooth jaw, the graceful fall of his curls with every step; a vengeful Boticelli angel in the flesh.

The older man had recently made the decision to keep minimal contact with the help. That meant that Daniel would keep his jabs and questions to himself and only speak to the kid when strictly necessary, which was a very brave thing for someone as opinionated as Daniel to do.The very picture of professionalism, that was Daniel Molloy. Every morning Daniel would sit in his obscenely comfortable bed with his legs crossed at the ankles and pretend to read a book or scroll through his phone while Rashid readied breakfast on his desk. The silence would be stifling. It made Rashid squirm where he stood in the center of the room, task finished, with his hands held up to his chest, one thumb smoothing over the other’s leather-clad knuckle, a soothing stim that Daniel had noticed instantly the first time he saw it. He would wait to be dismissed, or maybe the fire in his eyes told Daniel that he had been waiting for something else.

Daniel always dismissed him. And he always ignored how the help’s dissapointment made an ugly heat simmer low in his gut.

"I still don't understand why you keep him around for our talks," Daniel said after he left, tone as casual as he could make it.

Louis shrugged. "Rashid is the most loyal servant I have."

"He is easily affected. And noisy," he grunted. "Keeps butting in where he shouldn't."

"I think those traits make him a great journalist in training. You'd get him those connections if he wanted them, wouldn't you, Daniel?"

Daniel lifted his brows. He did not like what Louis insinuated. "Depends. What schools did he go to, where did he study? While we're at it: what fucking hole in the sand did he pop out of and do you have a birth certificate to prove that claim. Answer those questions and I'll see what I can do."

Louis didn't like what he insinuated, either. That much was obvious in the way his talons began to scrape against the wood veneer of the table.

"Your affair with Anika lasted two years. She went from an assistant with the degree but none of the experience to a renowned reporter for CNN in the span of that time period," Louis continued. "You grew fond of her, but you never entertained the thought of divorcing Lucy and marrying her instead. Why is that?"

Truth be told Daniel didn't think of Anika all that much. All his affairs just blended into one dark cloud of bad decisions and regret where the other woman ended up worse off. However it was true that he once upon a time did think of her. He thought of her almost every day at one point. Now she felt like a lifetime ago.

Daniel's cup was empty. He opened his mouth to shout refill, but then he remembered that Rashid had already gone. The man crossed his arms and sunk further into his chair.

"I thought I'd fuck it all up if I tried to turn it into something more than it was meant to be," he admitted. "But then the affair got exposed, and she was booted off CNN. Blacklisted from the entire industry. It got fucked no matter what choice I made."

Louis sucked his teeth. "Try again."

Daniel narrowed his eyes.

"You already know I was a shitty partner. In fact, you know everything about me. This topic is redundant."

"Not everything," Louis argued. He reached his claws out as if to cradle something right in front of his face. Daniel tried not to think about how easily those claws could crush his skull to dust if they desired to. "There is something locked off in that cranium of yours. It is like a vault. I can't get in."

Well, Daniel didn't know anything about that.

Serves you right, he thought, loudly.

Louis leaned over his side of the table.

"Try. Again."

Daniel shifted in his seat; felt his throat go dry.

Was this how Daniel's subjects felt when he needled them? It was a miracle he hadn't gained more broken noses in his career.

"What, you think there is a secret reason as to why I terrorized all the women I've ever been with?" Daniel scoffed. "Everything's either in my memoir or in my head, take a fucking look yourself if you are going to be so stubborn about it."

It wasn't a physical sensation that one could feel, which somehow made the experience worse. You can fight off a violent intruder who's coming at you with a baseball bat; you cannot fight off an intruder who dissolves into the air you breathe so he can sink into your bloodstream. Daniel recognized that Louis' eyes squinted in that particular way they often did when he peeled back layers of memories and unspoken thoughts. Louis looked through every lie, every cheat, every self serving thrill that Daniel chased without a thought for the women in his life, over and over until he tired them out and forced them to abandon ship.

He didn't know why he was that way. He didn't know if it had been the drugs that changed his brain chemistry so badly, or if Daniel always had been cruel at heart.

It felt cheap, was the thing. Daniel had spent his life honing the skill of making people spill their guts on their own accord. Making them feel heard. And here Louis De Pointe Du Lac went, filing through mind cabinets with such ease, like it didn't matter. Daniel tried to ignore the jealousy that awoke in him.

When he was done, Louis leaned back in his seat and stared into thin air. Silence. Daniel wouldn't break it.

Louis grinned like he had struck gold.

"Infidelity allures you. For a man who is so hellbent on searching for the truth, you are surprisingly comfortable having a few secret paramours of your own," he said. "Secrets upon secrets upon secrets, that's you, Daniel Molloy."

Daniel flexed the fingers on his right hand, kept his face straight. Somehow, he felt like Louis had caught him red handed in something he shouldn't be doing. His mind went to dark curls and steeping necklines on black shirts before he could stop it, and it made him feel naked in front of the Vampire; the only person who could see everything he was trying to keep clandestine.

Well, almost everything, apparently.

He could use that to his advantage.

"Not a secret when it's all in my memoir," Daniel repeated.

"Mm," is all Louis said in response, a displeased wrinkle to his nose. For a brief moment, Daniel feared the vampire would lunge at him again. There had been enough aggression between them today to warrant that sort of thing.

Louis stood from his chair, instead. "I'm having a conference call in ten. I'll be having more of those for the next few nights, so make yourself comfortable in the meanwhile."

And then he left.

An empty room with dark walls and even darker paintings. Daniel stared into the space which Louis had previously occupied, now bare as if he was never there to begin with. The hairs on Daniel's arms were raised and the sweat on his brow cold. A voice in his head was berating him; telling him that he had barely avoided a maiming. Prey instinct, he presumed.

Feeling aged several decades after that conversation, Daniel called for Rashid to make one of his martinis. He made them exactly the way Daniel liked them.

Rashid came out with the martini instantly. It was as if he already knew what Daniel wanted before he knew it, himself.

 

("Rashid is an opinionated young man. He lives to share his opinions even when they are not solicited." Louis was still wiping Rashid's blood from his mouth with a washcloth as he berated his assistant for running his mouth. The Vampire’s eyes glowed anew now that his hunger was quenched.

Louis loved to make a show out of his feeding. It was a well worn ritual at this point; a quintessential part of his disordered eating. The one today certainly took the cake.

He had taken long, deep drinks from that thin, pretty neck, and what a pretty neck it was. The tendons resembled two pairs of Grecian columns, planted on bony collar bones where Daniel could imagine the blood pooling up like a chalice if Louis had let it. He hadn't. The Vampire kept his mouth closed around the puncture wound, suckling and groaning into it as if Rashid's blood was the most exquisite thing he had ever tasted in his existence. Rashid leaned into his master’s bite, eyes rolling onto the back of his skull, wearing that blissed out smile on his face that would haunt Daniel’s dreams from now on. That penetrating eye contact Rashid insisted keeping with him wasn't any better.

Goddamn uncouth, that's what it was, the two of them having their fill of blood play while Daniel was reading out loud the demented habits of Louis' long deceased daughter. Them fucking fucking on the table would have been less obtrusive.

What Daniel didn't understand was how the boy didn't hit the ground from blood loss already. He didn't understand how Rashid could wax poetry about the morality of Claudia narrating her victim's last words while he had a human sized leech sucking him dry of life. He wondered what Rashid tasted like.

Louis' eyes widened at that.

"What's he taste like?"

It was a long, long time ago since Daniel last felt mortified. Par the course when you as a renowned journalist published a memoir going into heavy detail about how you catastrophically fucked up two marriages and used to take dick up your ass for heroin. Feeling a healthy dose of mortification now, he concluded that it was not an emotion that he particularly missed.

Even Rashid seemed troubled by it. Daniel ignored how that little frown on those cupid's bow lips made his blood rush south.

Daniel decided to double down, eyes wide and breath still. "I didn't ask that," he said, voice as flat as he could make it.

Louis didn't smile the way he usually did when he found a new way to use his Vampire powers to put the older man in his place. He simply stared, moss green eyes wide open and calculative as he took in this new information. And more.

"You were thinking it.")

Notes:

Yes Alice looks like Armand yes Daniel’s past mistress also looks like Armand, there is an Armand everywhere for Daniel’s eyes to see

And yes, Daniel was born in 1953, which would make him 55 when he decided to have an affair with a 25 year old intern in 2008. Which is legal, sure, but also morally bankrupt. But I also believe that Daniel deserves to have a leg to stand on in problematic-scumbag-olympics which is iwtv x

Chapter 5: Or My Chest

Notes:

Heyy I want to thank everyone that is reading and commenting on this fic! I’m not always that good at answering bc I get flustered and stuff but just know that I appreciate all of u freaks

Anyways I hope u guys enjoy this chapter xx

Usually every morning where Daniel Molloy woke up with morning wood was a good morning. A man really must start to count his blessings when he has long since reached the age of erectile dysfunction and still could organically, heroically get it up. What made this instance different was that it was still the middle of the night, there was a sandstorm howling all across Dubai that thundered across the walls of the tower, and the darkness of this strange guest room he resided in felt like a thousand eyes staring right through his raging boner.

What also made this bout of midnight wood particularly unpleasant was the fact that he couldn't move his body.

His dream was slipping out of his mind like water through his fingers. He tried desperately to claw at the pool of memory soaking him to the knees, but they would slip out again and cause a ripple, distorting what little else he remembered. He only remembered startling awake with a dry mouth, skin covered in sweat and his heart thundering in his ears. The shadows of the room melted into each other and became vague figures all around him, some with glowing red eyes and others the shades of whiskey. They all had the same shape to them; the same uncanniness in the pupils that made them monstrous. They somewhat reminded Daniel of Louis' eyes, but even less human. Hungrier.

Several voices whispered to him at once, the sentences garbled and layered on top of each other. They sounded like they came from a broken record.

... Paperbag over her head…

... Counting down your thrusts…

You're… black hole… Daniel Molloy…

A hitch would appear on the record, and the sentences would repeat over and over, distortion making the words tinny and incomprehensible. His head began to pound with a headache so intense that he could ground his teeth to dust for the sake of relief.

It never escaped the reporter's thoughts that Louis could slip into Daniel's mind while he was unconscious and watch his dreams like he was taking a trip to the local cinema. He was beginning to remember again, like a swollen body floating up to the surface of a pond: that the film which had been playing tonight was a porno starring Louis' boy toy.

Or at least Daniel thought it could have been him.

No, it was him, but different. Not as docile as he appeared in waking life. No, he had behaved like a beast. Rashid had been on top, that broad, perfect chest of his was decorated with inky, swirling hair and rosy tinted sweat like Rose Quartz on golden brown skin. Rashid had stared down at him as if he was nothing more than an insect. Said close-cutting, cruel words that had felt like heavy rocks dropped onto his stomach, crushing him alive.

Daniel had been different, too. Younger. Angrier.

Rashid— the man in his dream that resembled Rashid— had been fucking him at a brutal pace. His hands had been closed tight around the younger Daniel's throat, cutting his airways and making sure he couldn't get a word out. Daniel had still made his own animosity known; driving his fist into the other man's ribs repeatedly til the skin and ligaments on his knuckles tore and revealed the white bone underneath. The man in his dream that resembled Rashid hadn't even budged. He had given it to him good, nailing the younger Daniel's prostate with the sort of precision only lovers familiar with each other's bodies could possess. The phantom memory of it made his erection throb, but Daniel still couldn't move to relieve himself. He gritted his teeth and exhaled heavily through his nose, waiting for the paralysis to fade away. It always would fade away. Daniel was acquainted enough with them to know that much.

The shadows formed into Rashid, who was standing on the foot of Daniel's bed and staring him down. Daniel simply stared back, breathing heavily through his nose. His fingers started to tremble.

Sometimes, during the darkest nights, Daniel swore he could hear Rashid's silky voice crooning filth in his head.

Say something, I know you want me.

Show me how much you want me. You know I want it, too.

you want me bent over every flat surface of this apartment; stop denying yourself this wish.

He could hear his voice now above the rest of the whispers. So gentle and desperate. It sounded so different from his dream.

The creature began to climb over the foot of the bed. The movement of its body resembled that of a cat slowly nearing a damaged little bird. Daniel imagined this was how Louis felt when Lestat hounded him in New Orleans, come to me like a hammer crashing down on the sleek shield of self control.

Only that no one was hunting Daniel. No one but his own subconscious, at least. God, he was going fucking crazy.

That face hovered just over his own. A smooth, chiseled jaw with soft cheeks, a small mouth and thin eyebrows, big, big eyes. Perfectly symmetrical. Too perfect to be completely human.

A hand came up to Daniel's face before he could decipher that last thought. A small, shaky breath came out from the creature's lips as the leather seemed to make contact with Daniel's skin, a thumb brushing over his sagging eyebags. The very image of him was so visceral that Daniel could almost feel this body hovering over his own, and for a split second Daniel wondered if it truly was the man hovering over him. But he couldn't feel him, not really, no matter how desperately he tried to. A sick part of him that he thought he had left behind with the drugs and the suicidal ideation wanted to lean into the touch, but he still couldn't move his body and the hand wasn't there. He knew it wasn't. Daniel stared at the creature's lips, at his own aged, terrified face mirrored in black hole eyes, and he stared until the smooth planes of brown skin and high cheekbones began to melt into the darkness. His body could finally move.

The first thing Daniel did was clutch his beating chest and gasp in mouthfuls of air. The next was to sit up and plant his naked feet on the ground. The coolness of the parquet grounded him. He turned on the light on the nightstand and looked around. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he was somewhat concerned he would find Rashid crouched at the foot of his bed, staring at him with unblinking eyes like some night goblin.

Nothing. Just a desk and ergonomic chair, an empty closet, and a full suitcase right next to said closet. The door to the bathroom was closed and so was the main door. He snapped his head a sharp 180 to peer at what he liked to call the cuck chair, which was also blessedly empty.

He then looked at the digital clock on the nightstand.

3 AM. Daniel sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face.

There was a mini fridge filled with liquor underneath the nightstand. His doctor advised him to quit drinking altogether, but Daniel's white tee was sticking to his back due to how profusely he had sweat through it so he reckoned a neat whiskey was in order.

He kicked the fridge open and leaned down to blindly grab a pocket sized bottle of Jack Daniels. He twisted the cork off and threw it into the darkness of the bedroom, swallowing mouthfuls of the hot liquid with the desperation of a man in the desert finding a water source after ten long years without. The spice of the whiskey burned in his nose, spread over his tongue like hot lava, down to his stomach. Some of the liquor got on his t-shirt, staining the collar.

"Jesus— fuck." Daniel set the bottle down on the nightstand again. Sunk down to sit on the floor even though his back would hate him for it come morning. "Fuck."

It wasn't the first time he passed an unbearable night like this. The doctor said he's got years with poor sleep hygiene underneath his belt to thank. The Sleep paralysis were worse while he was actively abusing drugs and have thus mellowed out throughout the years. It had been a while since he had one that shook him to his core the way this one did.

And he was still so hard that it hurt. Daniel sighed again. Alice always used to say that his body was wired wrong; that it mistook fear for excitement and pain for pleasure. It pissed him off that he kept proving her right decades after the fact.

With whiskey warming his stomach and 4 hours to spare til breakfast, Daniel began to massage himself through his sweatpants. The least he could get from this fucking nightmare was an orgasm.

Daniel thought about the line of expensive lotions in the bathroom. They all probably had different smells, like lotus flower and milk and honey and some other pretentious bullshit. The milk and honey one would probably feel heavenly around his cock.

He spat in his hand and snuck it beneath the waistband.

It was due to principle alone that Daniel refused to think about Alice while masturbating. He sometimes thought of Lucy if he felt sentimental. Anika never crossed his mind.

She did now, though, and it was Louis' fault.

Daniel gave himself a squeeze, almost painful, and gave her another thought. Then he continued his slow pace. She would do.

Everything Louis had said about Anika was true. It wasn't her youthfulness that caught his interest, but the way she would knock him down from his high horse. Daniel Molloy, 55 years of age, had reached a point of infamy in his career where none of the younglings in the business wanted to get on his bad side, which was equally arousing to his pride as it was boring to his sense of adventure.

55 year old Daniel Molloy had everything a man could want: the job, the family, the acclamation— and he had been so incredibly fucking bored with it all.

And then came Anika.

Daniel might be a writer, but the affair was painfully uncreative on his part. He could have chosen anyone interesting to be the homewrecker. An fbi agent, or maybe even a war criminal from a foreign country, but he had gone the safe route and chosen his younger coworker who looked just like wife #1, who he had always preferred more than wife #2. Daniel had felt like such a schmuck whenever he talked Lucy down from a coworker-induced panic attack and promised her that she had nothing to worry about; all the while he was plowing said coworker behind his wife's back in expensive hotel suites and empty conference rooms.

Dirt. He was lower than dirt. He knew it, and Anika knew it. The heat in his gut began to build up as he thought of her telling him that much during one of their later escapades in a hotel room somewhere sunny and warm in Miami; his knees bruising against the hard balcony floor as he ate her out from behind. Anika watched the waves roll up on white sand while she leaned her elbows on the railing and smoked her cigarette, non-reacting to his administrations or the desperate grip he had on the cinnamon brown globes of her ass. That cigarette of hers would burn down to the filter and she would put it out on his shoulder, and the sizzling burn would almost be enough for Daniel to cum on the spot because his body had been wired wrong for as long as he could remember.

His mouth filled with saliva as his hand quickened the pace. The slick sound of skin on skin was deafening. Maybe it was just the whiskey talking, but his face was on fire. Getting closer to the knife’s edge of a shameful orgasm; it was the taboo of it all which was getting him off. And even then, Daniel couldn't help but feel watched. There were invisible eyes like daggers on the back of his sweat-drenched neck, pulling him out from the memory and onto the lonely guest room.

When Daniel shook his head and refocused on the fantasy, there was something off about it. He didn't notice straight away.

Golden sunlight seeping in through the balcony window. White, crisp sheets. A headboard slamming against the wall. Sharp nails on his back and a young mistress underneath him.

You're a black hole, Daniel Molloy, said Anika, that small, plump mouth of hers hung open as he fucked her hot body through the king sized mattress, but it wasn't her voice that he heard. Wasn’t her face, either. Not exactly.

Soft. Anika had softer features. A soft cleft chin, a smaller, less pronounced bump to her aquiline nose. The face in front of him had more angles, a certain boyishness that did not belong to her. The nails digging into his back like meathooks couldn't be hers, either, because Anika would never risk damaging her manicure for the sake of carving her way into Daniel's flesh.

The body pressed to his own was strong and lean, covered in coarse body hair. Anika was lithe. She waxed every month. He never asked her to. It was her own preference.

The voice. It wasn't hers.

Daniel pulled his hand away like it burnt him.

He was in the guest room again. Cold and lonely. All seeing. Tears welled in the very corner of his eyes. It fucking hurt to stop.

"Goddamnit. No, I'm not doing this. Not while thinking about him," Daniel said to himself through gritted teeth. Even though his dick hung thick and heavy between his legs, weeping precum all over his boxers and soiling them.

And he had been so close, too.

Daniel sat in the dark for however long he needed to catch his breath and feel somewhat sane. It could have been a few minutes. It could have been decades.

At last Daniel stood up and tumbled towards the bathroom. He needed a cold shower.

 

(They were on Daniel's sofa.

Daniel hadn't meant to walk in on them. He had been restless after his shower and wanted some fresh air out on the balcony, sandstorm be damned. With his curls still damp and a bathrobe his only piece of clothing, Daniel had padded out of his guestroom and into the dark hallway of the penthouse. Animalistic moaning which sounded ghostlike in the backdrop of The Groan was the only warning he got for the sight he was about to see.

Louis' shirtless back flexed as he loomed over his assistant. His body hid the man underneath him, but Daniel could tell by the sweet moans alone that it was Rashid that had gotten bent over and fucked by the Vampire. They were so enveloped in each other that they hadn't noticed him yet. Hopefully it would stay that way.

All that Daniel could see were long, brown limbs curled around one another and becoming one whole monster; talons sunk deep into inky black curls, muscles cast in writhing shadows. It wasn't so much what Daniel could see that made his guts twist up in his stomach, but what he could hear. Louis spoke heated words in French only meant for Rashid's ears, and the decades-younger man keened helplessly in response.

Daniel needed to turn around and leave. If Louis found out…

"Who do you belong to, boy? Tell me," the Vampire hissed through fanged teeth, voice unlike how Daniel had heard it before.

That gloved hand shot out and clenched onto the spine of the sofa so tightly that Daniel could hear the leather chafe from where he stood. The hand landed on Daniel's discarded cardigan, and the fingers possessively clenched around the soft fabric.

"Je suis à toi, maître," Rashid breathed out. "Yours, always.")

Notes:

Fun fact but this weird, psychosexual-wetdream-sleep-paralysis-blueballs-Lynchian-Loumand-hatefucking-voyeur-Daniel moment didn’t exist when I first published chapter 1, my sleep deprived mind cooked it up immediately after the fact while I tried to sleep, and then I wrote the whole thing in one sitting and slotted it in where it made most sense chronologically. Why did I write this? Does it do anything for the plot? None of that is important. What’s important is that the old man is suffering.

Chapter 6: Redecorate Me

He had first seen Kate while she was newborn.

1985. She was a late October baby; almost born on Hallows Eve. He had watched from the window of the nursery as 32 year old Daniel Molloy sat on an old armchair plucked straight out from the streets of Fishkill. The elevator in the apartment complex rarely worked so the boy had lifted it all the way up to the sixth floor and deposited it in the middle of their cramped living room. He had let it stay there for a month although it made a very pregnant Alice complain. The same hurricane of a man cradled a pile of fluffy pink blankets to his chest while Alice slept off her exhaustion in their shared bedroom. They had arrived from the hospital mere hours ago, and the father and daughter were still keeping each other company in the dead of night.

The nursery was small and the view from the window wasn't that impressive, but the room itself was lovingly decorated with all sorts of tchotchkes, as Daniel liked to call it sometimes. The walls were pink and there were teddy bears inside the crib, a night light in the shape of a unicorn on top of the diaper changing table, alongside the baby monitor. Toys strung across the carpeted floor.

The shock and the fear and the love coated the winter air like a woolen blanket and made the world fuzzy around the edges. The boy wore an old jumper with holes around the collar and his curly hair, still brown and thick and youthful, was drenched in sweat. Vampires were the furthest thing from Daniel's mind because Kate held his finger in her tiny little fist.

The birth of Kate Molloy was almost 40 years ago. It felt like mere days ago. It sometimes brought him shock whenever he looked at the man sitting on the stiff gray couch and realized he was not the drug addicted boy cradling his offspring to his chest while cooing at her; he was an old, sick man who lived alone in his shitty New York apartment. Kate was a 37 year old woman and she had her own life and family outside of her estranged father, who she would always love but also detest for how he failed her in youth. The young, unconditional love between parent and child had faded into resentment, as such relations always would.

I can't read what he's feeling about you, Louis told him, mouth closed and eyes on his interviewer, still.

Oh? he replied, I think he made it obvious.

Daniel was ignoring him.

He sat on the stiff, gray couch with his arms resting on the back of the spine and his legs spread, talking to Louis about atrocities from over a hundred years ago with the casualty of old friends reminiscing of a shared past, and he promptly ignored Rashid. Rashid didn't have the liberty to ignore him back, because he had to pay attention and deflect the oncoming bomb the infuriating boy would inevitably drop in their laps before turning tail.

If Louis didn't order him to do some sort of chore, Rashid would sit in the corner with his iPad. He frequently played Minecraft and Candy Crush because the thrill of being caught not doing work was alluring to him. He always had a habit of melding too thoroughly into the parts he played.

Daniel might not have looked at him or the way his crossed legs made the trousers hike up and reveal more of his ankles, but his blood screamed for Rashid.

Rashid screamed back. He screamed back often, in the dead of night where Daniel's desires made themselves more known. Rashid made sure Louis wouldn't hear.

Say something, I know you want me, he would croon. you want me bent over every flat surface of this apartment; stop denying yourself this wish.

And then Louis said to Rashid, You know damn well I'm not talking about how badly he wants to fuck you. He closes off whenever I try to dig for the real you, the you he met in Polynesian Mary’s. Why is that?

Truth be told Louis didn’t care for how much Daniel desired his assistant. The Vampire didn't like sharing what he saw as his, at least not without his consent, but he made it a point to not lash out. Louis knew that was the sort of reaction Rasid wanted from him and thus he withheld. Rashid used to admire his ability to withhold. He still did, sometimes, when Louis didn't use it against him.

These days all Louis did was use it against him.

I don't know, dear. Our boy is as fascinating as always, Rashid replied curtly and closed his mind. That was that.

Rashid had expected Daniel to mention the scene he had walked in on last night, and to say something tactless that would make Louis snap and bite his head off. So far the journalist managed to keep his big fat mouth off the topic. It made the hair on Rashid's body stand on edge in a way they never did anymore.

The session proceeded to end like every other session. Louis would heave a deep breath and roll his shoulders as the feeling of self-absolution washed over him. Daniel Molloy was his priest, and the priest would close his laptop, lean back on his seat with that and then what? look on his old face.

That night, Louis decided he wanted a smoke out on the balcony. Daniel joined him. Rashid remained in his corner.

He could hear the flicker of the lighter one wall away. He could imagine Daniel with a Marlboro red between his lips and the smoke coming out from his nose. That trembling hand would come up to slip the cigarette in the nook between his index and middle finger, the back of his hand decorated with thick, pulsating veins. Sickeningly sweet blood, sweet with disease and medication, aged like fine wine in those stunning ropes of blue and emerald green.

It did something to him, he must admit, the silver curls and the wrinkles carved into Daniel's face. The aching joints and the illnesses that take you one step closer to death by each day that goes. The marks of mortality made Daniel even more electrifying than he was in his youth.

It wasn't even that long ago since he was young and naive. Only a few decades. Such was the passage of time through the human lens. Mortal life went by so quickly, but at least it was meaningful. To age was a meaningful gift.

"You shouldn't smoke, Danny, ain't good for your health," said Louis with a cigarette in his mouth, half-joking and half-genuine.

"You sound like my daughter," Daniel grumbled in response. He took another drag only to spite his friend.

"Which one?"

"The older one, Kate. Lenore thinks I'm better off dead."

Kate. Rashid traced the name on the black screen. His lips cradled around the two syllables, but no sound came out.

Watching Daniel be so careful and loving towards his offspring had driven him mad with jealousy. He had wanted to be Alice, to give Daniel a loving family and be the perfect housewife and mother for him. He had wanted to be Kate. He had wanted to be Daniel, and he had wanted Daniel all for himself. He had wanted to kill them all and burn the entire building down to ashes. He had wanted to keep their corpses and play house with them forever. He had wanted to hold the child. It had been so long since he last held a child. He had still been Arun, back then. Alive. Unsoiled.

Like smoke, he had slipped through the cracks of the window the moment Daniel put the baby in her crib and left. His shadow hovered over the child.

Pudgy little cheeks, a gummy smile. Small, hazel eyes like chocolate buttons and curly brown hair on top of her little head; her skin was brown and the onesie she wore had a Hello Kitty print all over it. Vulnerable, defenseless little thing. Unaware of the monster hovering over her crib because the only thing she knew of was the unconditional love of her parents. Unsoiled.

"What I said earlier still counts." Louis said after some silence. "You've lived a full life, Daniel. Done everything you wished to do when you were young, and more. I'd give it to you now."

Daniel puffed out more smoke. "I thought your kind didn't turn cripples."

"You're not a cripple."

"Yet."

Another pause. "Just as those turned young gain supernatural strength beyond their physical capabilities, the Dark gift can give those turned older their agility back."

"Careful, Louis, or someone might think you don't want me dead after all."

"You know I never really did," Louis replied, voice colored with a laugh. He rarely laughed when it was just the two of them. Neither did Rashid.

He had watched Kate as she fell asleep. The desire to hold and nurture was as strong as the instinct to maim. He counted her pretty eyelashes as he rummaged through his options.

At last the monster decided to hold her. His claws reached out and wrapped around her small body; slowly lifted her out of the crib. Some long forgotten instinct made him cradle the back of her head, cranium still soft to the touch. The result of his fascinating boy and the mistress' coitus had a tiny little heart beating in her chest. That tiny little heart reminded him of a woodpecker in a cage. Vulnerable, defenseless little thing. Unaware of the coldblooded beast holding her to his chest like something precious in his arms.

For a split second, he thought of kidnapping her. Raise her like his own. It was his right, as far as he was concerned.

But then he stepped on a squeaky toy by accident. Kate woke up from her slumber. The coldness of the stranger holding her made the child cry, and so he had put her down in the crib within the miniscule of a second and vanished into thin air. When Daniel rushed back into the nursery, green eyes bleary with sleep and sweater all wrinkled up, all he saw was an empty room and a small cut on his daughter's cheek.

Daniel and Louis continued to speak in hushed tones out on the balcony. The name Alice was spoken once again. Rashid wasn't interested in eavesdropping anymore. He rubbed his thumb over his knuckles and took a deep breath.

Do you need me here still, maître?

No. You've been good, Arun. Take a break.

Usually those words would make his dead heart soar. Tonight it remained dead.

Rashid got up from his seat and left for his bedroom. Not his and Louis' opulent bedroom, but the tight, mildewing closet of a bedroom he made a habit of using while playing this role. Going to bed and waking up on a thin mattress made him feel more in character. It also worked great for self flagellation.

 

("Save it for the rentboy," Daniel said to Louis. He ignored how Rashid flinched.)

Notes:

Do me a solid and ignore how the chapter count went up again, alright? It's all filth, you'll thank me when the time comes x

Chapter 7: I Know You Want Me

"Your coffee, sir," said the help as he put the glass cup down on the empty mahogany table, voice tense with rejection.

It was 9AM, and Daniel had gone directly to the library after breakfast. He had drunk a cup of bitter, arab coffee with his Balaleet, and didn't particularly need anymore caffeine in his system. Rashid knew this, because he was the one who had poured the cup in the first place. The older man looked at the glass mug in front of him with furrowed brows. He hadn't even had the time to put on the white gloves and sort through Claudia's diaries before Rashid marched into the library with it.

What the library lacked in brutalism and gloom, it made up for in esoteric interior design choices. The library was all light, tranquil colors and finely polished wooden furniture. The soft scent of flowers. It was jarring, how different this room was from the rest of the penthouse. That same lonely atmosphere prevailed. Ghosts upon ghosts upon ghosts. The magnolia tree and pool of white pebbles in the middle of the room was, according to Rashid, sentimental choices, but Daniel was more interested in finding out the sentimental value of the inconveniently floating bookshelves and how Rashid reached them without a ladder anywhere to be seen.

Rashid stood in front of the magnolia tree, watching Daniel with his hands behind his back and a smile that meant trouble.

Daniel stared back. His eyes were narrowed with suspicion, as if he thought the help hated him enough to poison him. Maybe he does. It is difficult to tell at times. Rashid's got fickle moods. I doubt he knows what he wants most of the time, himself. Daniel picked up the cup and drank from it anyway.

Daniel wrinkled his nose. "You didn't make it right."

Rashid's guts always twisted themselves up to knots when his voice went that low.

"I'm sorry, what's that?" Rashid said, tilting his head to the side and feigning ignorance.

"You forgot the cream." He took another sip and resisted the urge to stick his tongue out. God, that's vile. Daniel grunted, "And it's room temperature."

Rashid blinked. "I think you mean milk, Mr. Molloy."

Daniel glared at him, hard. His eyes were always so bright and clever, like a pair of polished aquamarines that screamed to be plucked out of their sockets. He set the cup down, the clink of glass against wood was loud in the quietness of the library.

"It's still room temperature."

"My apologies, Mr. Molloy, you never told me how you liked your coffee. I did the best I could with my limited knowledge."

Daniel just stared at him for a while. Then, a sly grin cracked over his lips.

"Oh, I see how it is. You're feeling abandoned," the man replied. He leaned his hip on the table, arms crossed over his chest. "Your master— I mean your Boss— he's really keen on catching up on his beauty sleep lately, so he can't attend to you properly. You're taking out your need for attention on little poor me. I'm sorry to disappoint you, babe, but it is not going to work."

His jaw twitched after Daniel's assessment. No one else could see through him the way Daniel Molloy could. It was equally infuriating as it was exhilarating.

It had been like this ever since they entered the subject of Claudia. Louis had made it a habit to isolate himself between sessions. As callous as Daniel had been with his questioning and commentaries regarding the girl, he understood where Louis was coming from. Rashid, on the other hand, was beginning to grow restless. Needy. It wasn't Louis that Rashid wanted, not currently, but he was all he had until Daniel would cave in.

He wore plunging necklines these days. Steep V necks and stretched out collars, showing off a slender throat and sculpted collarbones, soft, brown skin. The hint of a broad, supple chest. It was distracting on purpose. Daniel still hadn't given him any attention beyond the occasional, penetrating glance.

It wasn't enough.

"Your fantasies are getting out of hand, Mr. Molloy. I do not fault Mr. De Pointe Du Lac for his need for recuperation," said Rashid, prim and proper. He lifted his chin to make the long line of his throat more pronounced.

A glance. Occasional, yet penetrating. Not enough.

"Whatever you say, man." Daniel rolled his eyes and moved to get to the trolley. The books laid on it, still, waiting to be perused.

Rashid got in the way.

The two men stood awfully close all of a sudden, almost breathing the same air. The sudden proximity made Daniel jolt, but he kept put. It was a Man thing; the first to break eye contact and pull away when an altercation got up close and personal was the loser. 20 year old Daniel Molloy never cared about games like that. He never cared to be superior to anyone, but this older version of him did. This older Daniel Molloy had dived headfirst into wars for the sake of documenting the horrors which took place at the hands of his country. This older Daniel Molloy had to compete against other equally insane journalists in his field and prosper in the ruthless publishing industry, and that wasn't something you did by rolling over and showing your belly. You needed nerve and you needed bite.

"This better be good," the old man grumbled. He raised his brows and twisted his expression to an bored one. It was a farce. It drove Rashid mad with want.

I know you want me, Rashid said in his head, all knowing and yet needful, stop pretending that you don't.

Daniel heard it, but he would believe it was his subconscious getting the best of him. He wouldn't betray the fact he heard these words, either. He just watched Rashid with mild interest and kept his mouth shut. A shark hounding for blood in the water.

Rashid understood why Louis wanted to give Daniel the Dark gift. He would make a formidable Fledgling.

"I," Rashid sucked in another breath. Those icy eyes followed the movement. "I think you need to leave."

Daniel blinked. He hadn't expected that. "Excuse me?"

Like forming clay, Rashid made himself as cold and unfeeling as this role could manage. He managed very well.

"The interview is a terrible idea. It won't get published, and even if it did, the book will make you a laughing stock among your peers and render all your accomplishments null. Everyone will attack your age and declining health, and it will be all you are remembered by in your death. I think you need to leave Dubai, and I will acquire a plane for you this instant if I must."

You need to leave for your own good. That is what Rashid thought. You are putting yourself in a grave danger that I cannot save you from. I loathe you still but I can't handle seeing you hurt yourself again.

Meanwhile, Daniel was thinking something along the lines of: Man, fuck this guy.

As it stood, neither were good at communicating what they actually were thinking. They just glared at each other while toe to toe, hands clenched by their sides. The world had narrowed down to the two of them and their frustrations. There was no library and there was no interview. That meant that there was no Louis, either.

Daniel took one step closer. "Oh yeah? You're personally flying me out of Dubai, are you now, Rashid?"

"Yeah." Rashid didn't bother to suppress his smirk. "I'll even pay you to fuck off."

The blood in Daniel's vein was boiling. Hot under the collar.

"Aw, that's cute. Why don't you go and fill me another cup of coffee instead, sweetheart. Make sure it doesn't taste like shit this time," Daniel snapped. His anger was a cold, condescending kind that made you feel chastised, like a small unruly child. Rashid could imagine him saying the same thing to some young, poor assistant in an office somewhere in the states, and that she would probably hide in a bathroom to cry about it afterwards. Bossy. Demeaning. Mean.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

"Make me, grandpa," Rashed spat.

The table screeched and moved a few inches with the force of them. The coffee cup went crashing to the floor, liquid spilled over the tiles, dripping into white pebbles.

It happened so fast. One moment, they were spitting vitriol in each other's faces. The next Daniel had him cornered onto the desk, trembling hands full with rage and desire cupping that beautiful, irritating face and pulling it close, blunt teeth on Rashid's bottom lip. Rashid was even quicker to respond. He made space for the older man to stand between his legs, threw his arms around his neck and kissed back with biting force. He wanted desperately to touch, to desecrate, but he kept his hands to himself, fists crossed at the wrist. Daniel tasted like piss-poor coffee and distrust. He tasted like coming home after a long day out running errands only to find out you let your kitchen sink run and that the entire apartment floor was drenched in soapy water. He tasted like coming home.

Or perhaps that was what Rashid tasted like on Daniel's tongue. It was difficult to tell. They melted into each other the way old lovers tended to do.

Honey and pineapple, Daniel thought within the safety of his own mind. It had been all he could think about since he saw Louis suckle on Rashid's sweet artery. Despite his constant refusal at admitting it; he always had a sweet tooth.

"Fucking brat," is what Daniel said as he pulled away to remove his glasses. "This was your plan all along, huh? Drive the old man crazy and then fuck him."

It was. It wasn't a smart plan. In fact it was the most irrational one Rashid had made in a long time, but he didn't care. He licked into Daniel's mouth like some wild animal. Daniel's thigh pressed onto the front of his trousers. Forceful. Mean. Rashid rocked against the pressure, halfway gone from this realm of reality. There was something liberating in playing the prey animal.

Finally, all of Rashid's atoms sighed. Get it on me, I've waited so long.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Rashid replied, snippy, but he interrupted himself with another gasp as Daniel's hand wandered up to his chest, fondling the soft muscle.

The older man snorted. “Yeah. Really convincing, kid.”

Daniel began to tug off Rashid's thin cardigan, all his black silk and pure cotton pooling around him. Rashid didn't help him. It brought him more pleasure to sit there and slowly have his layers peeled apart by this infuriating man. Rashid gripped hard enough onto the edge of the table to make the wood splinter.

"What was that sound?" Daniel asked against the corner of his lips, always asking damned questions.

Rashid distracted him by sticking his tongue in his mouth again and racking up his ugly plaid shirt from his jeans.

It didn't take long for Rashid's shirt to be thrown across the room. The gloves stayed.

Greedy, Daniel began to kiss down his jaw. The older man nosed at the too-quiet pulse point nestled beneath the crook of his jaw. Rashid stifled a whine with his teeth buried in his wanting tongue. The taste of honey filled his maw.

And then, Daniel paused.

"Well now I just feel stupid," Daniel said as he pulled away. He wore a deadpan expression even as they breathed the same heated air through labored lungs. "Not even a jump in those veins. Just tell me you pity me and I'll hop off your bones."

It was an opening to abort the mission if Rashid ever saw one. An olive branch.

He ought to take it. He ought to take this opportunity to convince Daniel he didn't want it after all and save his skin. Continuing this road couldn't possibly end well for him. Them, both. But what Rashid ought to do and what Rashid wanted to do was at odds with one another, and he so happened to be in this more self sabotaging mood this morning. He often found himself in this mood wherever Daniel Molloy was concerned.

A gloved hand covered an aged one. Rashid brought it to the front of his trousers where a stiffness resided. No turning back.

A gasp punched out of the older man’s lungs. “You’re crazy,” said Daniel. His hands massaged the firmness, cupping it.

"Please," Rashid begged. For what, he didn’t know. It was becoming difficult to keep his fangs tucked in.

Daniel's hands weren't shaking when they began to unbuckle Rashid's pants and pull down the zipper. He hadn't put on any underwear, to Daniel's amusement.

Cocktease, the older man thought crudely. It made Rashid simultaneously whine and preen.

"Louis I get, since he looks young. But if we two walked down the streets together, everyone and their mother would assume I was your grandfather." His hand wrapped around Rashid. Daniel gave him a good, hard tug. It made his toes curl. "Is that what gets you going: taboos? The thought of making old muslim ladies faint if you ever decided to tell them what you get up to behind closed doors? It is always the quiet ones that make your jaw drop."

The coffee on the floor sizzled. So did the pool downstairs. Somewhere in the apartment, a faucet began to pour boiling hot water down the drain. Rashid mewled as Daniel fisted his cock again, precum leaking all over the firm, aged hand. His own hands, slender, eternally young, still sheathed in his black leather gloves, began to desperately work on the buttons of Daniel's plaid shirt.

"I've been far from quiet. You are just obstinate. Cruel."

And there went a button. Rashid couldn't care less.

The man just smiled in that stupid way he did when he believed he was tracking a hot trail. "As if you didn't enjoy every second of it. I know I did."

It was true. Uninterested in admitting that, Rashid surged up to kiss him again. Daniel complied eagerly, one hand in those cherub curls while the other continued to pump his prick. Breaths that Rashid did not need to take began to speed up in his ribcage.

When Rashid finally managed to undo all of Daniel's buttons, he saw that the man was wearing a white undershirt underneath the flannel. Fuck, he was such an old, grumpy grandpa. A fossil. It made him drool like a dog.

He gasped as he resurfaced from the kiss, "Mr. Molloy, please, I—"

“Bet it makes your dick twitch whenever you call me that. Fuck, look at you." Daniel had already begun to mouth down Rashid's chest, heading south and more south. His voice was low and gravely when he said against Rashid's hipbone, “God, I want to eat you alive.”

Rashid put his hands on his shoulders to stop him. It made some organ in his chest tighten when Daniel obliged.

The older man looked up at Rashid with raised brows.

“No dice?” he asked, him and his stupid American idioms.

It had been a while since he last fed. The lack of sustenance rendered his bodily fluids mostly transparent and human-like in appearance, but the taste was unmistakable. If Daniel got a taste for the iron leaking out of him, then the play was over. He needed to find an excuse, quickly. Luckily he was made of them.

“I want to— but we don’t have time." His eyes, wide and deerlike, darted to the entryway to the library. They were all out in the open. "Need you now, before he—“

“I know. I got you, sweetheart,” Daniel replied in a softer, lower tone which made Rashid melt onto the desk. He pressed a chaste kiss to Rashid's sternum as if they were lovers again, before turning him around and bending the younger man over the desk. Rashid allowed himself to be manhandled. He arched his back like a cat, and gasped when Daniel began to tug his tight, black trousers down his legs. Those calloused, hard hands stroked his backside with reverence, as if Daniel was worshiping a deity at an altar. Rashid's eyes fluttered shut, and a softer sigh escaped his lips.

A thumb pressed softly at the center of him. "Lube?"

Rashid's hand darted onto the pocket of his cardigan. He pulled out a small, half empty plastic container and set it on the table. It had the label of a luxurious brand on it.

"I know who I'll go to if this pandemic somehow turns into a full blown The Walking Dead situation," said Daniel as he took the bottle in his hand and popped the cap. "I've never met someone so ready for absolutely everything. Do you have a doomsday bunker somewhere underground I could hide in, Rashid? We could play card games together for the rest of our miserable lives."

Rashid ignored how that sounded like a dream come true as much as it did a nightmare. He wanted to give that talkative mouth something more effective to do, but that was not the role he was playing. He willed his fangs into his gums, whining at the ache.

"It is my duty to serve— ah," Rashid cut himself off when he felt the cool press of a wet hand against his taint.

Daniel chuckled when he slid his finger inside the younger man and met no resistance. Only smooth, velvet walls that would feel like heaven around his cock.

"Rashid. You already prepared yourself for me, huh?" He kissed a spot between Rashid's shoulder blades that made his knees tremble. Daniel entered another finger. Still no resistance. He crooned, sweet but condescending, "Have you been doing this every day, sweetheart? Laying in your bed with those sexy legs spread apart, working yourself open every morning before bringing me my breakfast. Were you praying for me to give in?"

He had.

Louis thought it was for him. Rashid allowed him to think so, and had on numerous occasions allowed the Vampire the liberty of partaking. He loved Louis, he truly did. He had loved him for many years. But this was always meant for Daniel. His infuriating, obstinate, cruel, fascinating, beautiful boy.

Every morning, right before taking his trolley to Daniel’s room; Rashid would be knuckle-deep in himself. His shuddering gasps would bounce off the walls of the small cot he had taken residency in. Rashid would imagine the million ways their next private encounter could go; he would play himself like an instrument to the thought of Daniel losing control and taking him the moment he stepped foot in his guest room. Clashing teeth and desperate hands. He would think of the stretch of the older man inside him and sink his teeth into a pillow to silence another moan, but it was the thought of Daniel ignoring him and leaving him empty on the inside which made Rashid come untouched all across foreign bed sheets.

It hadn't been long ago since Daniel last had sex, either. Although it had been a good decade or more since it had been with a man. As enticing as the siren's call became during lonely late nights spent in his cluttered apartment, Daniel had adamantly refused to download Grindr. He refused to become a tired stereotype.

That didn't mean he was out of practice. He found the bundle of nerves and noticed immediately when Rashid went boneless in his arms, and he grinded up against that spot till Rashid saw stars. Mouthed at the back of his neck til he began to tremble. Daniel was good at this.

It made Rashid want to wipe out the memory of every fuck Daniel has ever enjoyed that was not with him. No more drunk middle aged single mothers hogging the bar for some hot blooded attention or frisky colleagues that had always wondered if he was as freaky as he wrote himself to be in his memoir. There would be no Alice, no Lucy, no Anika, when Rashid was done with him.

"Yes," Rashid choked out. He reached behind himself blindly but with intent. His leather glove creaked when it curled up in the collar of Daniel's white tee. "Now hurry up and fuck me; if you can even get it up.”

Notes:

The porn is finally here. It's my first time writing (and publishing) smut so I hope the build-up was worth it ;)

Also the story is FINALLY actually finished, thank god. The whole thing is just under 30k, which I would have never expected when I drafted the initial oneshot :0 but now I can focus on other fic ideas alongside updating this one which is great, DM has genuinely made me unhinged with all sorts of eloborate porny fic ideas and I can't wait to finally draft some of them hhhh

Chapter 8: In This Apartment

Rashid listened as Daniel began to feverishly fight with his own belt buckle. Suddenly, the older man resembled to him the boy he had been so many years ago: this young, bright eyed sex pest eager to obey a command.

Once Daniel had freed himself, Rashid couldn't help but reach a hand out to stroke. Thick, hotblooded, familiar.

A stunned sound left Daniel at the feel of dry leather around his shaft. He braced himself with strong hands on Rashid's hips, squeezing the flesh underneath his fingers. Rocked forward onto the painful touch. Surely I could glide in just like this, he thought, all the blood leaving that brilliant brain of his and rushing down South.

Rashid brought his palm up to his chin, spat on it, and then began to stroke with more intent. His boy was already stone hard.

"So he can get it up," Rashid said conversationally. If only to rile him up further.

It worked.

"Fuck you. I bet you'd gag for it even if I had erectile dysfunction," Daniel spat with newly found vitriol.

"Hm. It would be inconvenient, but we would find a way around it." Rashid had already done research on his iPad and bought numerous varieties of Viagra pills before Daniel even made it to the private airplane.

Maybe it was due to the fact that they weren't facing each other, for Rashid found the courage to admit, "I just want you."

Without another word, Rashid tugged Daniel even closer. He turned his head back as much as he could, looked up at him with big doe eyes and his lips pressed together nervously. He was ready.

He had expected Daniel to be rough. It took him by surprise when Daniel cradled his chin in one hand and leaned over him, pulling him into a softer kiss, the sort which made time go still.

"Ah," Rashid gasped against the older man’s lips as Daniel pushed in. His hand came up to cradle the back of that silver head.

The world collapsed around them. Rashid was unmoored, and his only tether was Daniel’s body pressed along his spine, keeping him in place; the slow press of bodies coming together, the debauched smell of sex in the otherwise pristine air. Rashid inhaled deeply, if only to remind himself of what was about to happen, and where. There was something dirty in fucking in such a clean, tranquil room. There was something reprehensible in fucking their boy in the home he and Louis had made together, all while Louis slept off his grief only a floor away. It got Rashid going more than it should have.

That was why when the housekeeper had opened the door to the apartment with an authorized key, he hadn't heard it. He hadn't heard it when the 90 year old muslim lady's humming died down once she heard strange noises coming from the library, or when she tip-toed towards the entrance of the library and peeked in.

He heard her when she screamed in horror. They both did.

"Jesus…!" Daniel startled. He pushed away from Rashid and scrambled to pull up his pants, which had pooled around his ankles in an undignified manner.

"Disgusting old pervert!" Khadija yelled in Arabic. She held her broom as if it was a longsword. "Wallahi, leave poor Rashid be, he is barely an adult! 27 years of living is nothing compared to your geriatric age. I shall tell Mr. Du Lac—"

Alright, this isn't funny anymore, Rashid thought with a sigh. His eyes darted briefly to the side and the housekeeper stopped her yelling. Her eyes became like glass before she ran out of the apartment as quickly as her short legs could take her.

The silence which came after the outburst was stifling. Rashid had wanted to continue where they left off, but Daniel was too keyed up. His pants were done up but the zipper foolishly forgotten. There was shattered glass on the floor and Claudia's diaries were collecting dust on the trolley. The moment was gone. Rashid sighed once again and rose up to his full height. He should begin to dress, too, he supposed.

Daniel watched him with a squint when he bowed down to pick up his trousers and put them on. "Did you know she was coming?" the older man asked, although Rashid thought it sounded more like an accusation. A pointless one, at that.

"No, of course not," Rashid replied, peeved. Khadija was the least sexy intruder he could have thought of involving in this.

It didn't help she was a new enough employee that she hadn't even known of Rashid's play in all of this. If it had been someone like Ali who had worked here for a couple years, then maybe the intrusion would have gone by more smoothly. This was most definitely Louis' doing. Rashid had full control over all their employee's schedules, where they were allowed to work on certain days, etc. He would have known if Khadija was scheduled to do a clean up in the library and planned accordingly.

Daniel ran his hand through his hair. Rashid watched the hand forlornly. He had looked forward to pulling on those curls.

"The way she ran out was strange. If I didn't know better I'd say it looked like she was controlled like a puppet," Daniel, the brilliant, fascinating boy, mused. "That's the sort of thing Lestat could do. D'you think Louis is old enough to pull off that sort of trick? Not that I see any reason that he would."

And now the mood was ruined for good. Rashid didn't like it when Daniel showed interest in the other vampires, no matter how innocent.

In lieu of answering and giving his position away, Rashid did up his own zipper and looked around for his shirt, which had been thrown onto the white pebbles. He walked towards the magnolia tree, fully aware that Daniel was watching his backside as he bent over to pick up the shirt. Daniel's bright, penetrating eyes were still on him as he slowly shrugged the soft, black fabric on, hiding the perfect brown skin the older man was so eager to sink his teeth in. The scent of desire was thick in the air, but it was tinged with a professional journalist's healthy suspicion. It was intoxicating.

"Do you think she'll squeal?" Daniel asked, voice that unaffected drone he always kept it at. The blood in his veins was still pumping loudly with nerves. Tension. Sexual frustration.

Rashid waved a flippant hand. He had already erased her memory. "I doubt it."

"Yeah? And why is that?"

His trousers were uncomfortable now that he was wet and hard. He felt empty inside. Rashid was positive that he was going to kill that old lady. He closed his eyes and took another stabilizing breath. Made sure his fangs wouldn't drop. Then, he walked up to the desk and reached for his cardigan. It still laid across the fine brown wood that he had been so close to getting fucked on.

While elegantly shrugging the cardigan on, Rashid said, "Because Khadija is a sensible woman. She knows what is best for her well-being."

"You're going to threaten her."

"I'll give her sound advice."

"So you're threatening her. An old lady cleaning a penthouse for cash. Your own coworker." Daniel's eyes were wide as he stared at Rashid. It was as if he was seeing him for the very first time. Then he began to pace around the library. "You're crazy. I almost stuck my dick in crazy."

"Your fly is down," Rashid replied, coolly.

Daniel looked down. He cursed when he realized Rashid was right and pulled the zipper up. His erection was straining in his jeans. Rashid couldn't keep his eyes off it. He didn't try very hard to.

He remembered that Daniel used to have a mean exhibionist streak going when he was young. To be fair, he had a mean streak going for most fetishes. Rashid had worried that his sense of adventure had died with age. He was pleased to see that wasn't the case. They were still as compatible as ever.

Maybe there was something in Rashid's dark gaze that betrayed him, because Daniel took one good look at his face and began to vehemently shake his head.

"No. No. This was a mistake, alright? It's not gonna happen again," he said, an accusing finger pointed in Rashid's direction. " I am almost 70, for Christ's sake. I am not going to fuck my interviewee's horny little assistant like some cocky, 20-something year old Casanova."

"A Casanova, you are not. Neither are you in your twenties. But the first thing…" Rashid replied, once again glancing down at the older man's crotch.

Cocky, indeed.

Daniel glared at him as he buttoned up his plaid shirt. It was wrinkled and ugly and undeniably sexy to Rashid.

"Listen up, Rashid." Daniel began to roll up his sleeves. "You are going to clean up your mess and fuck off to wherever the help congregate. You will be civil with the housekeeper and gently persuade her into not tattling to Big Brother, and I will sit here and read those goddamn diaries, yeah? You do your job, I do my job. We do not speak of what happened here. We don't attempt a do over. Is that understood?"

Rashid smiled. "Yes, Mr. Molloy. Was there anything else you needed from me?"

The aggression in which Daniel used to put his glasses back on his face said more than words ever could.

"Yeah. Fix me that goddamn coffee. Black with cream. Piping hot."

Rashid did everything that he was told to do. He cleaned up the coffee spill and got rid of the glass shards under Daniel's watchful gaze, made Daniel a cup of coffee the way he liked it best, and called in a new housekeeper to do a sweep around the apartment. It pleased him to have an order to accomplish.

At last Rashid stood in the kitchen and watched the sink. Someone must have left the drain plugged on by accident and let the water run, for there was a sizzling, bubbling pool in the sink's maw. Condensation coated the tiled walls of the kitchen. The warmth of the air was the likes of a sauna. Rashid sunk his arm into the boiling heat and removed the plug. Watched with interest as the liquid swirled down the drain.

Then he went downstairs. It was time for a swim.

 

("Do you have what you need, Mr. Molloy?" Rashid asked him, knees on his prayer mat and gloved hands cradling each other in his lap. He looked up at Daniel with those doe eyes again. It reminded Daniel of the first time Rashid was under him with a washcloth to clean up the coffee spill, but somehow even more perverted. The inclusion of religion must be the reason.

"A cure for Parkinsons?" he replied sarcastically. Rashid quickly changed the subject. They talked for a bit until Daniel remembered they weren't supposed to.

"I interrupted; you were praying." Daniel was about to leave the boy to his religion, until he heard him mutter something in a foreign language. Definitely not Arabic. Rashid looked like a kid who got caught with his hand in a jar of cookies.

Damn, he looked beautiful like that, too. The wary look in his eyes as he bit down on his bottom lip. It didn't escape Daniel's attention that his shirts have become more and more revealing by each day that has gone, either. Was that an effect of the brazen, bratty assistant trying to tempt his boss, or him trying to distract—

"You're not from Dubai. I thought you were native," Daniel said to Rashid, breaking his streak of inquiring about the younger man's background.

It made the younger man smile. "Dubai is a child, Mr. Molloy, no one is a native.)

Notes:

Psyche bitch, I take the blue balls tag very seriously around these parts x

Chapter 9: Plug Up the Drain

"Mr. De Pointe Du Lac is on his way to conduct your interview," said the help to his employer's guest, who was currently leaning his elbows on the balcony railing and watching the sun set on the darkening skyline. Navy clouds were beginning to appear. "He apologizes for not attending dinner alongside you."

The heat of this country never ceased to make Rashid's nerves stand on edge. It wasn't simply the heat, he supposed, but the thick, stifling humidity that made your hair frizzy and your lungs spongy on the inside, it was the prickling of the sun on cool flesh. The rays hurt even as he loitered on the threshold of light, watching the back of Daniel's head and how the hairs thinned out at the center of his cranium. Those wispy curls sucked up the color of the sky, golds and reds and dark purples on silver. Daniel had removed his cardigan and tossed it onto the couch inside. He stood out here in the sun wearing washed out jeans and a black tee. Comfortable Chelsea boots on his feet, a cigarette between his twitching fingers.

"He shouldn't be. I am an old man, I'm used to eating alone," Daniel said around a mouthful of Marlboro smoke.

Rashid looked behind him, at the couch with the cardigan. It was exactly the sort of clothing a younger Daniel wouldn't be caught dead wearing. Frumpy, he would have called it. Boring and ugly. It smelt of him, of old spice deodorant and cheap aftershave and smoke. Rashid desired to stay in the coolness of the apartment; to sit on that stiff couch and curl up inside the worn out cardigan. He stepped out into the sunlight instead.

Daniel ignored him as he came close enough to lean his back on the ledge. The older man continued to stare straight ahead and into the eye of an impending storm. Rashid's skin prickled. It was going to rain soon. He didn't need to look at the clouds to know.

He cleared his throat primly and looked at the cigarette between Daniel's lips. "Can I bum one?" he asked.

The man grunted, but reached into his front pocket for the pack anyway. The cartridge was worn out at the edges.

"Smoking on the clock?" he asked as he handed it to Rashid.

Their hands brushed for a brief moment before Daniel pulled away. Rashid watched how the tendons in his hand flexed, the slight tremble to those thick fingers. They had been inside him less than 24 hours ago.

Rashid opened the pack and shook a cigarette out. He put the filter between his teeth and ignored the instinct to bite down.

"I am permitted a few liberties," Rashid admitted.

"You don't say," replied Daniel dryly as he lit the end of Rashid's cigarette. He held the lighter close enough to himself that Rashid had to lean into his space.

Flick of a flame. The nicotine entered his lungs, it seeped in his bloodstream and did fuck all. But when Rashid exhaled again, he felt more grounded in this body that wanted nothing more than to swallow the man standing beside it whole.

His wrist bone is peeking between the leather glove and the long sleeve of his shirt, thought Daniel. So delicate and pretty it made him wonder if a strong gust of wind could snap the bone in half. Or maybe a hard, bruising grip would do the trick.

Without another word, Rashid handed the pack back to Daniel, who made sure not to touch him this time around. The corner of Rashid's lips tilted upwards.

Daniel coughed. Looked away. He began his old man rambling again, "Looks like it's going to rain. First it was the sandstorms, and then rain in the middle of June. In Dubai. Maybe I should drop this whole interview and write another book on global warming—"

"Do not think of what happened as a moral failing on your part, Mr. Molloy," Rashid interrupted. "It wasn't. It was, ah, how did you put it? Safe and consensual."

The atmosphere grew thick. The humidity wasn't at fault.

Daniel ashed his cherry with a flick of his finger. "I told you we weren't going to speak on it."

Rashid watched as the ash scattered across the balcony floor with irritation as well as fondness. There was an ashtray on the table he could have used, but it was just like him to be so childish.

The fact that Daniel wore a t- shirt meant that his arms were on display. He was strong for his age, defined biceps and forearm muscles beneath the stretch of warm, tan skin; skin that begged to be burnt by the cherry of his cigarette. But Rashid didn't indulge. He ashed his own over the railing, and put the filter back to his lips, eyes never leaving the man in front of him.

"I know I might look naive to you, but I am an adult in my own right," Rashid said. "Mr. Du Lac is not my keeper. I do not need his permission to seek my own pleasure."

"So you try to fuck all your bosses' guests?"

Rashid shook his head. "No, only you."

"I am three times your senior," said Daniel. The poor man sounded exasperated, and yet his eyes lingered on how Rashid’s mouth formed around the cigarette.

Rashid stifled a laugh. He smiled instead, genuinely this time around; raised a delicate brow as he breathed out the cancer again.

"And yet I do not regret it. Do you"?"

Daniel's cigarette went out. He flicked it out of the balcony this time and reached for another from his pack.

"You never told me what your relationship to Louis was," he replied, "it's difficult to regret something I don't have a full scope on."

Persistent, as always. Rashid remained silent, pondering his own relationship to the aforementioned Vampire. He had slipped so seamlessly into this role that he had forgotten it, himself; the love and the heartache that came with being Louis' companion.

It killed him every day that he would always be Louis' next best. At least he knew he would always be Daniel's very worst.

"Well, what is it? Daddy issues? You need an older guy bossing you around to feel like a person or what?" Daniel goaded.

Rashid pursed his lips into a frown. "I don't appreciate being psychoanalyzed."

"I'll take that as a yes, daddy, then."

Believing he had won the last word, Daniel placed the cigarette between his lips and looked out at the dark horizon with satisfaction glittering in his bright eyes. Once again he resembled the boy he used to be in his youth. Prideful and irritating. The cigarette lit up before Daniel even had time to spark his lighter. It burned out completely and became ash all over his shirt.

"He must be nearby," was all Rashid had to say when Daniel turned to him. He flickered his own half-finished cigarette out of the balcony and went inside to find a mop and mindfulness.

Notes:

This was a pretty short and unsmutty chapter compared to what I've published as of late, but they are smoking together while discussing their infidelity and that is equally hot as a sex scene (to ME) so deal with it x

Chapter 10: Run the Faucet

Daniel couldn't pinpoint exactly when it became a common occurrence, but he had made it a habit to take ice cold showers first thing in the morning. He would wake up at 6AM sharp and tumble out of bed and directly into the bathroom, not bothering with turning on the lights —much less taking down the blinds— before he stripped off his clothing and clambered into the orgy shower. The first spritz of ice cold water against his feverish skin always dragged out a slow, agonizing hiss from between his teeth. He weathered the onslaught with one hand pressed flat against smooth, gray tiles and the other clenched around the faucet.

He didn't look between his legs. He didn't touch, either. But when it was time for him to exit the ice shower and wrap himself in a warm bathrobe, Daniel couldn't help but turn on the light and examine himself in the mirror. He looked more alive than ever.

When he exited the bathroom, he saw that Rashid was already in his bedroom, readying Daniel's breakfast on the desk.

"Ah, good morning, Mr. Molloy," the help had greeted him with that airy voice of his. He hadn't even turned around to look Daniel in the face as he barrelled on with his daily culinary exposition, "It will be your usual today: The Chebab as the appetizer, Shakshuka and—"

"Who the hell let you in?" Daniel interrupted.

"I did." He twisted around to flash Daniel a small Mona Lisa smile. "As Mr. Du Lac's assistant, I have access to every room in the building. I'm sure he must have told you."

Daniel took another look around. His room was unchanged, other than his bed which had been made. There wasn't the slightest crease on his silky duvet, as if Rashid had pulled out a hot iron and went to work while Daniel was in the shower. The headlights weren't turned on but Rashid had lit the candles on Daniel's nightstand. Which suited Daniel fine. He wasn't a particularly big fan of overhead lightning. The desk was different, as well, loaded with his most preferred breakfast dishes that this Diaspora could offer. The rich scent made his mouth water.

"No, I don't think he did," Daniel replied flatly. He shoved his fists deep into the pocket of his robe. “Louis hasn't ripped my head off yet. I assume that you dealt with the housekeeper in a civil manner."

The mention sucked out all the air out of the room.

"Civil, yes," Rashid agreed. A tad more breathier than usual.

Daniel wasn't sure he believed him. Wasn't sure he cared all that much, either.

Other than the rain pattering against his window, the bedroom was deathly quiet. It made Daniel more than aware of what had happened last time they were left to their lonesome.

Rashid's eyes went down to the vee of his bathrobe, the silvery damp hair that it revealed. He must be reminiscing, too. He parted his lips to say something, but cut himself off before a sound could get out. Rashid sat down on the edge of Daniel's bed instead.

Daniel simply watched him. His mouth had gone dry.

Seeing as Daniel remained mute, Rashid began to speak.

"You have been curious about me for a while now. Suspicious, one could say, and I am afraid it might have caused… tension, in the penthouse." Rashid folded his hands neatly in his lap. "I'll allow you to ask me three questions about me to ease your mind, nothing more."

Daniel was hearing him. He wasn't doing much else.

Fine, black clothing against silky white sheets, seeping all over Daniel's bed like an oil spill. The weight of him barely made a dip in the creases. The man was like a black angel, or a ghost. He was a vision, and Daniel wanted to reach out and touch to make sure he wasn't imagining him again. He wanted to make him curl those leather gloves into Daniel's sheets and writhe.

Rashid peered up at him through his dark lashes, docile and terrifying, and said expectantly, "Well?"

"What's your angle?" Daniel asked, because he had to.

The help cocked his head to the side. "Is that your first question, Mr. Molloy?" Rashid asked right back.

Daniel quirked a smile and shook his head. He wasn't even mad that he was caught.

They were doing this, then. Daniel walked over to the desk to retrieve his cup of coffee. He would need the caffeine to get through this with a somewhat sound mind. The roast wasn't the bitter one from the huge coffee can, but his usual. Roasted and blended out with milk to perfection. The warmth radiated off the ceramic cup and the smell was grounding to his senses. Then Daniel sat down on the cuck chair, so that he and Rashid could face each other from a safe distance. The chair was plush, but not as indulgent as the one for his desk. It took a little squirming to get comfortable.

Rashid watched him like a hawk.

"Stop that," Daniel chastised.

"Stop what?"

"Staring at me like you're a hungry wolf and I'm a slab of meat. It's creeping me out." Among other things. Daniel took a sip of the steaming hot coffee. He said, "Alright, let's do this. We'll start off nice and easy, Rashid."

Rashid nodded his head resolutely.

"Who are you?"

The help laughed. It was a bell-like sound that Daniel had never heard before and wouldn't mind hearing once more. "You already know who I am, Mr. Molloy," Rashid replied, coy.

No, I don't think i do, Daniel thought. In fact, I don't think I know the faintest thing about you, and that has been frustrating me to no end.

The older man leaned back in his seat and spread his legs. He ignored how Rashid's eyes went to the inside of his ankle, up the curve of his shin and to the soft, thin skin on the inside of Daniel's knee. Further up his thigh— as much thigh as the robe allowed.

"Operating in the field of journalism for as long as I have, I've long since come to the conclusion that there are two types of people in the world: there are the windows, and then there are the mirrors. The windows are easy to read. You just pull away the curtains and peer in." Daniel put the cup on his knee, the heat seeping through his robe and onto his skin. "Damek is a window. Rough childhood, cold parents. Homophobia that ran rampant in his Ruskie neighborhood. These factors made him feel weak, so he chases strength by making himself big with weights and steroids. He chases strength by making himself useful to a rich Vampire in hopes that servitude will grant him the Dark gift. See? Window.

"Mirrors are not as easy. You can't look in like you would with windows, because all you'll see is your own stupid face staring back at you, and that is where most juvenile journalists throw in the towel. Mirrors deflect, you see. They make you question yourself. You will have to grit your teeth and commit to some self reflection if you want to get anywhere with those bastards. Louis is a mirror."

Rashid was following his analogy with rapt attention. He must be curious to find out which category he would fit in. That thought made Daniel smile.

"You, on the other hand, are a carnival mirror at a haunted house," Daniel said. "I look at you and I see myself, sure, but it is a version of me that I don't recognize. Not fully, at least. It's all… distorted. I can't get through you using any of my usual methods."

There it is, that look again. It appeared whenever Louis prodded Daniel about his past, but he couldn't for the life of him decipher what that frown and faraway look in his eyes meant. Was it some branch of disgust? Was Rashid's wires equally crossed as Daniel's, mistaking animosity for attraction? Pain with pleasure?

Rashid's lips quirked into a rueful smile. "So you use desire."

"I use whatever tool is at my disposal." Rashid had been the one to plant the seed, anyway.

Rain against the window. Against the entire building. Rashid leaned back in his seat, rolled his shoulders and neck. That long, naked neck. He soaked up the attention that got him with another small, careless tilt of his lips.

And then, The Groan. Rashid hummed with it.

"Windows and mirrors. Those are the symbols you chose. Will you conclude your metaphor by breaking glass?" Rashid asked.

"No, because unlike real mirrors, funhouse mirrors are made of plastic. You can't break something that isn't real to begin with." Daniel leaned forward, elbows on his knees and bright eyes wide open. "So, I'll repeat my question: who are you, Rashid?"

Daniel had caught him off guard. That much was obvious in how quickly that bratty expression of his faded away.

The blankness of his eyes and the frown in his mouth reminded Daniel too much of how the kid had looked in the swimming hall. Vulnerable even as he did his best to hide his tracks. But Daniel had already smelt the blood in the water, and he could never stop himself from picking on a bleeding wound.

In all honesty there were a hundred questions that Daniel wanted to ask him. Where are you from? What's your family like? Do you still talk to them? What about your childhood, were you a happy child? What's your biggest fear? Your happiest memory? Your worst? Daniel wanted to pin Rashid to a table and dissect him. Staring holes through his forehead would have to suffice.

Rashid opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it.

"We can come back to that in a minute." Daniel took another sip of the coffee. And then, "Who is Louis to you?"

Rashid visibly eased up at this line of questioning. The furrow between his brow softened, and a ghost of a smile played along his lips. Tender, Rashid looked, as he thought of Louis. Daniel's heart dropped to his stomach at the sight, stupid organ that it was.

If the man noticed Daniel's discomfort, he chose not to pay close attention to it. He sighed as if lovestruck. The devoted servant.

"Mr. Du Lac is my master. He is my lover. He is my everything."

Daniel sucked in a breath. And just like that, any plausible deniability he had went out the window. If they were going down this route again, it was with knowledge of what trust they were breaking.

"Clearly your everything isn't enough," Daniel said flatly.

That tenderness left his face, which was a good thing. Rashid was easier to look at when Daniel wasn't thinking about how well adoration suited his features.

"You speak of things you don't understand, Mr. Molloy," replied Rashid. There was a warning in his voice.

Daniel, in response, raised his eyebrows.

"Enlighten me, then."

Rashid pressed his lips into a line. "Monogamy works differently for his kind. When you have lived for as long as Mr. Du Lac has, such strict societal expectations begin to seem… inconsequential. It is natural for companions to seek other beds. The important thing is that you return to the person you belong to."

And you truly believe Louis belongs to you? Daniel tilted his head in thought. Can't ask that. I need to pace the questions. The kid's too neurotic to allow me a bonus round.

"I don't know about that. Louis and Lestat seemed awfully jealous of each other when they opened up their marriage," Daniel pointed out instead.

Rashid's frown deepened. He said, "Their relationship was flawed before they made that choice, as you already know."

Daniel wondered if Rashid got jealous easily. If he got jealous of the other servants that Louis sunk his teeth in. He wondered if Lestat waltzed into Louis' life again and Louis inevitably took the French bastard back, that he would be okay with sleeping at the foot of their bed for the rest of his life.

"Doesn't explain why you have to sneak around to get to little old me, though." Daniel shrugged. "But then again I suppose it's different when two companions decide to fuck around compared to a Vampire's pet."

That had offended him more than any other microaggression had. It was obvious in the smile that slowly spread across those cupid's bow lips. The slight downward tilt of his head. It made Daniel's internal danger alarm go off.

"You are harsh, Mr. Molloy," said Rashid. Another warning.

Daniel scoffed. "You like it harsh. You're probably hounding me only so he can spank you about it later."

Rashid stood up.

Daniel was quickly made aware that Rashid was quite tall. It was easy to forget this fact when he kept hunching his shoulders and looking up at you through those long eyelashes. Now, his shadow hovered over the older man as he stepped closer.

"I love him. That doesn't change the fact that I want you, as well," Rashid said, and he said it with such unshakeable confidence that Daniel simply must believe him, logic be damned.

Rashid dropped to his knees, right in front of Daniel's feet, and Daniel was so very weak for him when he was in this position. The devil curled his fingers around Daniel's naked ankles like iron shackles, peered up at him with those dangerous eyes and said, "If it had been anyone else, he would be fine with it. But because it is you, Mr. Molloy, I have to sneak around. That is all there is to it."

Daniel doubted it, but his circumstances made it difficult to rebuff the claim. He licked his lips, because they had gotten dry all of a sudden, and ignored the hunger that flashed across Rashid's face.

Daniel was once again reminded of how they must look to outsiders. The young servant prostrated in front of some geriatric fuck in an expensive bathrobe, reclined in his cuck chair as if it was a throne. It was a power trip to be old, yet so ardently desired by someone as devastatingly beautiful as the young man at his feet. Daniel drank his coffee, eyes intent on his subject. “You want your cake and to eat it, too.” Daniel tilted his head to the side. “Greedy.”

“Yes," Rashid breathed out, as if in a trance.

The cup in Daniel's hand shook. They both ignored it.

Daniel asked, "Was it Louis who dealt you those scars?"

And then Rashid's eyes crinkled up, as if the mere notion was amusing to him.

"Mr. Du Lac is far too soft at heart to not heal the wounds he inflicts upon me. I am afraid that my…" Another stumble, yet another pause. "My father did not have the same courtesy."

Ah, there it was. Something akin to a truth.

Daniel wanted to dig in. There was something vital which Rashid was purposefully leaving out that could help Daniel understand him better, the journalist could feel it. He had felt it since this faux session started. Since the swimming hall.

"You must think I am boring now," Rashid mumbled. He sounded awfully insecure.

He should know better than to melt. He really should, but it tugged on his worn out heartstrings all the same.

"Aren't we all. I think I am the most boring guy out there," Daniel admitted instead, softening his tone only for him.

Affection made Rashid look lovely once again.

"Louis would disagree. He sees something in you worth keeping around," Rashid retorted. "For some indescribable reason."

Daniel smiled. "Are we still talking about Louis?"

Rashid turned his cheek. The flame of the candle gave his eyes a soft, golden glow. That perfect skin of his as well. The peach fuzz on his cheek made Daniel's heart clench.

"You've asked your questions, now. No more."

Daniel resisted the urge to card his hand through the younger man's hair. Anything to make that glassy eyed look vanish. But while Daniel had already accepted the fact that he was a sleaze, the thought of inflicting Rashid with his touch after what he had just heard and the implications that followed made him nauseous. As if he had heard Daniel's thoughts, Rashid shook his head and began to massage Daniel's clothed thighs with his hands. "I think I deserve a reward for answering your questions, Mr. Molloy," he said matter of factly.

His touch was electric. Daniel tried not to jump at it, but he couldn't stop his hand from shooting out to grab one of Rashid's, stopping its wandering.

"And that reward is getting me off. I don't know, Rashid, sounds backwards to me," said Daniel. His mouth was full of cotton.

Rashid raised a brow. "Are you complaining?"

Well that's a loaded question. I guess I just don't want to be the kind of guy to exploit somebody's coping mechanism for the chance of getting my dick wet anymore, Daniel thought wryly. Been there, done that; the guilt was hardly worth the orgasm.

"Not at all. I just can't help but point out that you forgot to answer one question."

The cup was empty. He held it out for Rashid to take, if only to distract his curious hands.

Daniel asked once again, "Who are you?"

Rashid stared blankly at the cup.

He picked it up with his hands and stood up. Daniel watched as he turned around to walk towards the trolley, putting the cup back on the empty surface.

"I am whatever my lover needs me to be," said Rashid, with his back still turned to Daniel.

"And why is that?" he pushed, couldn't help it.

"You've asked all your questions, I've given all my answers."

"So let me answer my own question, then, and if I'm wrong you can deal me a kick to the nuts."

Rashid remained quiet. Then he turned around and leaned his backside against the trolley. That pretty face of his was carefully blank; the softness from earlier was entirely gone.

Daniel took a deep breath. Well, here it goes.

"I am whatever my lover needs me to be," Daniel repeated. The words didn't sound as poetic with his flat American vowels curled around them. "I bet you think you sounded real romantic when you said that, but you sounded like a fraud to me. A desperate little boy masquerading as a grown adult masquerading as a little boy again. You're somebody who never learned to live on his own; you'd rather endure by latching yourself to a man who feels both pity and arousal when you turn on those tears in the bedroom.

"You call it love, but it is only survival. Wait, correction: there was love there, but somewhere down the line it went sour and you were never that good at jumping ship. You latch on tighter instead. You endure because it is what you know best. Being on survival mode all the time has made you into a crafty little fucker; more than Louis gives you credit for. You are a wolf masquerading as a sacrificial lamb."

Daniel's breath was ragged after his verbal assassination. His head throbbed. It was strange, he felt like he was speaking this cruelty to himself, but to a part of him that felt foreign. Left behind in that vault Louis had spoken of.

Daniel looked at Rashid. Blank eyes, a straight mouth. A funhouse mirror. He had been more right than he wanted to be.

Rashid didn't say anything in response. He didn't kick Daniel in the balls either, but Daniel knew he wouldn't.

If it wasn't for rain or the digital clock on Daniel's nightstand, they would have been enveloped in pure silence. But the world continued to turn and they were running out of time, and Daniel wanted him. He really, really did, despite every red flag he had dug up this rainy morning. Despite the alarm ringing in his head at the thought of going through with this. Despite his questions.

So Daniel stood up from his seat and walked towards the bed. It was with a shaky breath pushing its way out of his lungs that he sat down on the edge, the mattress plush beneath him. Daniel's right hand toyed with the tie of his robe, thumbing the soft material. Teasing it.

Rashid wasn’t breathing at all, too busy watching his every move. Waiting.

That was all the confirmation Daniel needed. He looked Rashid straight in the eyes as he pulled on the tie, the soft fabric coming undone in his hands.

"I still want my pancakes warm, so I'll give you…" He looked down at his Apple watch and set a timer. "Five minutes. Get me off, or don't. Your choice."

Rashid crowded him the moment he put his wrist down. He kneeled between Daniel's naked thighs and shoved the bathrobe away from his shoulders with eager hands. Decades old insecurity almost made Daniel bring up his arms to cover himself, but he refrained by the skin of his teeth; allowed himself to enjoy the feel of eager hands dragging down his chest, his sides, down to the small bit of fat around his hips. He tried to convince himself he deserved this, and even if he didn't, that it was okay that he still desired it. Daniel wound a hand around the back of Rashid's neck to stabilize himself, petting the fine curls there.

Daniel could feel Rashid's shaky breaths against the meaty part between his neck and shoulder as those leather gloves continued to map his aged body, every wrinkle and stretch mark. Daniel forced him out of hiding with the hand on the back of his neck, tilted his chin up with his free hand because he wanted to see that pretty face twisted up in desperation.

"You did good, Rashid," Daniel said to him, voice low, because he realized quickly that this was what the kid had wanted all along. To be torn apart and be rebuilt again.

With a rue smile, he added, "Would you bite my head off if I called you a good boy?"

"Yes," replied Rashid, although he pushed himself even closer, breathing the same air as him. Greedy.

They were a hair's width away from kissing, and Daniel was struck by how badly he had missed this closeness to the younger man. Had missed his cold, leathery touch, the serpentine way he moved. They haven't even had sex yet. He hadn't been this crazy about Anika, and at least Daniel had fucked her.

It terrified him. Luckily Daniel didn't have one self preserving bone in his body.

"But you were a good boy, answering my questions so truthfully. I knew it was difficult for you."

"How do you know that?" Rashid asked. He tilted his head as he spoke, so that his lips brushed featherlike against Daniel's. "You said you don't even know who I am."

Daniel still believed that he didn't. He believed that not even Louis knew who he truly was. He believed that this was a fucking bad idea.

"I am a quick learner," replied Daniel before leaning in, shutting the brat up for good.

It moved on quickly from then on. Daniel found himself on his back, a fluffy pillow behind his head so that his neck wouldn't kill him, and he was getting kissed into the mattress as if he was the most desirable thing on the planet. Rashid hovered over him, all around him, strong thighs on either side of Daniel's waist, hips rutting up against the swell of his stomach. His hands were everywhere: tugging on Daniel's hair, tracing his crows feet and smile lines over and over again.

The rhythm of his canting hips stuttered with each honey-slow moment that passed. Daniel wanted to put the kid out of his misery and reach down his pants for him, but he refrained. Rashid was the one taking the shots today.

"Mr. Molloy," he breathed out against Daniel's bottom lip, voice airy and shaky and needy. "I want to—"

"Yeah, baby, do that, do whatever you want," he interrupted, a little gone from the world. His dick was in such a state of hardness that if Rashid told him he would only sit on it if Daniel had a paper bag over his head, he would gladly find a goddamn paper bag.

But Rashid didn't ask for the paper bag. Whatever he was planning to do, he wanted to have Daniel under his watchful gaze. His eyes were all over the older man's face as he began to undo his belt, the sound of his zipper loud within groaning walls, louder than the war drums pounding in Daniel's ears.

A hand appeared over Daniel's hungry eyes, and everything turned black.

"Huh?" Daniel called out stupidly.

"You said I could do whatever I wanted," Rashid replied, almost coquettish. His voice sounded even closer now that one of Daniel’s senses lay dormant, the soft timbre finding home in his pumping bloodstream. The sound of rustling clothing set him further on edge. The touch of Rashid's leather against his eyelids felt even more sensual than it did against the rest of his body.

Rashid breathed out his next words against Daniel's lips.

“I don't feel like being seen at the moment. Is that alright with you, Mr. Molloy?"

Daniel couldn't help but smirk at that.

Been feeling too seen lately, huh, Rashid?

"Go ahead. You're the Boss today," Daniel gruffed out. He tried to hold onto his sole thread of dignity by the flatness of his voice, but Daniel was leaking precum all over his stomach, soiling those expensive silk sheets. It was a lost cause.

He was sure that if Rashid had removed the hand covering his eyes, that Daniel would see that self-satisfied smirk back on his face. But he didn't remove the hand. Daniel was in the dark as he heard Rashid spit into his hand, heard the slow hiss escape between his teeth when he touched himself. Meanwhile, Daniel's own hands gripped the sheets tightly. Rashid never told him that he couldn't touch himself, but he didn't have to. Funny, that: Daniel really believed he had the upper hand mere minutes ago. Sometimes it felt good to be proved wrong.

Rashid began to touch himself in earnest, knuckles brushing against Daniel's erection but that was about all the action the poor thing got. The sound of skin on skin was filthy to his ears, and so was the sensation of being nothing more than masturbation fodder for the dirty angel straddling his hips.

And then Rashid leaned down to kiss him, to devour.

"Touch me," Rashid demanded, more desperate than Daniel had ever heard him. "My thighs, my chest— touch me, Mr. Molloy."

"Need me that badly?" he teased, although he began to do as he was told. He was good at that when it came to Rashid. It was as easy as breathing. Muscle memory.

A butterfly battered its wings against the inside of his temple. Daniel ignored the headache for the sake of chasing Rashid's tongue again, his smooth skin. Chasing pleasure as always.

Rashid's thighs were deceptively strong, wiry and with hair. Daniel wanted them wrapped around his head and to squeeze. He ran his hands up those plush muscles all up to his hips, his sides, over his sculpted shoulder blades and the back of his ribcage. It heaved with quick breaths; he must be close. It only took the bite of nails for his body to seize. Once, twice.

"Yes," he gasped as he came on Daniel's thigh.

Cool little spurts against his hot skin. Rashid moved all the way down his body so he could lap the spill up. Daniel kept his eyes closed even after the hand was removed, and was gifted kitten licks to the head of his cock for his effort. A lingering kiss to the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft. A shaky exhale left the younger man. The cool breath ghosted over Daniel in such a way that it made his toes curl into hardwood floors.

There must have been an entire minute left to get him off. Daniel was so high strung that even one pump would have him spill all over the sheets, but Rashid only crawled up Daniel's body again and laid down on top of him, pliant and soft against his chest.

"Hold me," he said, and Daniel did. His eyes were still closed.

The timer went off one minute later. Daniel didn't come. He was less disappointed about it than he thought he would be.

"Could we stay like this for five more minutes?" Rashid mumbled against his chest hair, domestic like a kitten. "I'll send your dish back and make the chefs cook a new one."

Daniel opened his eyes. There was a feast at Daniel’s table, but he could only focus on how one of Rashid's curls coiled around his finger; the faint citrus scent of his shampoo. He wondered how he had managed to deny this sweet thing for so long, and he wondered how he could look Louis in the eyes for the session to come.

"Yeah, sure. I wasn't that hungry anyway," Daniel lied.

He was hungry. Starving, but it wasn't for food.

They lay there for five more minutes. Ten more.

 

(Daniel had fallen asleep on the sofa. It was a precious sight to Rashid, who was currently standing over the unconscious man with an orange blanket in his hands. Louis had gone to the library to ruminate on his thoughts regarding the session of the day, which meant his focus wouldn't be on Rashid's whereabouts. At first he simply watched the rise and fall of that barrel chest as if in a trance. Peaceful. Daniel looked peaceful in his sleep. It was a rare sight, which naturally made it precious.

Carefully, Rashid leaned down and began to put the blanket over Daniel's body, covering him from his legs up to his shoulders. The man had always been a light sleeper, so Rashid was extra gentle when he tucked the blanket around his body to ensure it wouldn't fall off during the night. Daniel was a restless sleeper, too.

His body warmth radiated and pulled Rashid closer. So did the smell of him. Cheap aftershave with a ship on the bottle had never smelt as welcoming before. Rashid was gentle when he tilted Daniel's head softly to the side so he could inhale the smell even deeper. Watch the scar on his neck catch the artificial light.

Ridiculous. It was ridiculous that this vulnerable man could put Rashid's life in jeopardy. And yet here they were.

Rashid pulled away from Daniel's space, but only enough so he could watch every wrinkle on his face, every texture. His hand twitched to reach out and trace the puffy bags underneath his eyes. He counted his silvery eyelashes instead.

70. Rashid made it to 70 eyelashes before Louis called out to him. And so he left, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.)

Notes:

Alternative title: "Oh You Thought Regular Infidelity Was Bad? Wait Until You Hear About The Wonders Of Emotional Cheating!"

This chapter was so difficult to write but I hope I did it justice. I want to get better at writing longer chapters and stuff but I always get so lost in the sauce

Chapter 11: Get It on Me

Three nights had passed since the initial incident. There was no repeat of it. At least, not the kind of repeat that sated them.

The rest of the world had gone dark and stormy, and Rashid watched in charged silence from the corner of the dining room as Louis and Daniel reached the climax of their session. Rashid watched the back of Daniel's neck as his sweat glistened underneath dim lights. He wanted to lick his skin clean and let the salt melt on his tongue, but he stayed put, gloves squeaking with how tightly he was holding his iPad.

"And we'll end it here for tonight," said Daniel as he tapped on his mousepad.

He's wearing that low cut shirt again, thought Daniel, loudly, shamelessly. Sure, why not. Why don't you just torture me to death, you Jezebel.

It had been like this for hours. Louis could hear all of his reporter's lustful thoughts. He must have been in a saintly mood tonight because he didn't comment on any of them. He did what he always did after a finished session, which was to take a deep breath and roll his shoulders. Self-absolution washed over him.

"Feeling restless, Daniel?"

Ah, there it was.

"The opposite, actually. Course 8 was lacking and your husband was being extra nightmare-ish tonight." The man took off his glasses and let them clatter onto the table. "I feel like an underpaid marriage counselor that has been dragged through time."

Daniel had begun to masturbate to the thought of Rashid before going to sleep.

There were numerous, creative fantasies racking around that clever head of his. Rashid underneath him, Rashid above him. Rashid making sweet noises as he got his dick sucked on Daniel's bed after preparing his breakfast. Rashid naked and glistening beside the pool, sitting on Daniel’s face and getting his ass ate in front of the marble statue, Rashid bent over the dining table and taking Daniel's cock as deep as he could up the rear while Louis sat on the other end of the table, watching them. Rashid and Daniel fucking in the living room where anyone could walk in, them fucking in the balcony while enjoying the view of the golden skyline. Rashid in all possible positions, Kama Sutra style. Rashid as Daniel's own sexed up assistant. Rashid with his teeth in Daniel's neck.

The younger man often tuned into those fantasies as he touched himself in bed, the thin mattress creaking with every movement of his writhing body as the pleasure overtook him and made him come all over his stomach. The orgasm, in a way, was at the hands of Daniel. It simply turned him on, how much the older man desired him. Daniel made Rashid feel like a prize to salivate over. It had been too long since a man last made him feel that way.

I know you want me, Rashid would sigh into the night, only for Daniel to hear. Show me how much you want me. You know I want it, too.

"You are calling 10 million underpaid? I didn't know that area of therapy could get so expensive," said Louis.

"Maybe because you never looked into therapy, although you really should. Antidepressants could do you a world of good."

The help cleared his throat. As amusing as Louis and Daniel's bickering could be, Rashid was growing impatient. He never particularly cared for it when Daniel gave Louis sound advice, either.

"Mr. Du Lac, you are leaving your investors waiting."

At that, Louis raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember leaving anyone waiting."

What are you playing at? Louis asked him. Because he didn't have any investors waiting for him. Not before this moment. Rashid began to swipe pointlessly at his black screen.

"I rescheduled for you, as you told me to do yesterday," was what the help said with his lips. Don't you trust me, Maître? is what he said with his mind.

... Yes, and yet Louis sounded suspicious. Are you going to play nice with him? I need our boy in one piece.

Yes. The vault inside his mind is too strong and proves dangerous to us, I need alone time with him to break through, Rashid answered. It was a lie, of course; he had been the one to put the vault there in the first place. But the lie sufficed.

Louis, the supportive, agreeable husband that he always had been, at least for these last 40 years, looked down at his clock and said, "Shit, you're right. Thank you for reminding me, Rashid."

Rashid allowed himself to feel guilt for one more minuscule of a second before he moved on. "It is what I am here for, Mr. Du Lac," he replied, evenly.

"Another conference call?" Daniel asked. His hands turned to fists on the armrests.

Louis smiled as he stood. "Something like that, yeah."

His footsteps echoed as he walked out of the dining hall, out of the apartment. Took the elevator down to the first floor, left the entire building and stepped into a sleek black car before vanishing into the rainy night, because what was quarantine to the rich and immortal? Louis' presence echoed till it didn't anymore. Then it was deathly silent. Just a digital clock going tik, tok, tik, tok, the rain and thunder outside the tower— and their bated breaths.

Daniel turned his head to look in Rashid's direction, blue-green eyes glowing in the moonlight. Rashid was already marching towards him.

The chair screeched as Rashid put his weight on it, one leg slung over Daniel's hip and the other following with till he was straddling the older man, hovering over him.

Wordlessly, he held Daniel's face in his hands and relished in how handsome Daniel’s faint stubble made him, and leaned down to capture his lips.

A gasp escaped him when those hands settled on his waist and pulled him closer. They moved in sync with one another, as if they never stopped doing so in the first place, their intermingling, guilty shadows hidden in the dark of the night. They couldn't be heard under the guise of rain pattering on the roof, on the large windows. They could remain hidden here forever.

Fucking finally, thought the older man. For once Rashid couldn't agree more.

"This is not a do-over," said Daniel once they parted for air. "We're— first of all, we are not in the library, so that makes this completely different. And we're not getting in the way of the interview— shit, do that again."

Rashid had already moved on to his neck while Daniel babbled about technicalities. He licked a long, languid stripe over the skin there, finally getting a taste for the salt he craved.

"All the servants are sent home. No one can walk in on us," Rashid added onto Daniel's rambling.

"Uh huh." Daniel sounded dazed. His hand snuck up Rashid's shirt and took a hold of one of his pecs, massaging the soft muscle with the palm of his hand, a greedy squeeze of his fingers. Rashid simultaneously leaned into the hand as he rocked his hips on the older man's lap. Close wasn't close enough.

Lightning crackled outside, illuminating the dining hall in white before it faded away, leaving them bereft and squirming in cool navy blues. Thunder followed, rumbling and deep.

"Don't worry about Mr. Du Lac, he will be gone for a while," said Rashid as he unzipped Daniel's pants and snuck his hand in. "Those conferences are ages long."

"Don't talk about conferences or Louis while you're giving me a handjob," Daniel complained. A flush was creeping up his neck, and Rashid eyed it with hunger.

"Is a handjob all that you want with me?" he asked. He didn’t try too hard to not sound disappointed.

"Baby, I want anything you're willing to give. You're all I've been able to think about, it's making me go crazy," said Daniel, voice like hot gravel against Rashid's insides. His hands were massaging the Apollo's belt which peeked over Rashid's trousers, thumbs dipping beneath the waistband. "Could you be an angel and please get naked already?"

Rashid simply stared down at him until he got the hint.

Daniel sighed. "Right. I forgot I was dealing with a brat."

Complaints aside, Daniel took his time peeling Rashid's clothes off. First the shirt, the trousers, the thin briefs he had put on a whim earlier today. His Daniel lavished every inch of visible skin with teeth and tongue. Razor sharp eyes taking in every reaction, every small, stuttering moan Rashid let out, body shivering underneath every touch. All the attention left him a breathless, soaking mess by the time he was nude. It was far from the first time someone have had him in this position, but it damn near felt like it. He felt like a virgin again.

The rain began to pour. The bathtub faucet in Daniel's bathroom turned on with full force. Rashid's eyes shuttered close as his head fell back, letting the sensation wash over him like a bath. Daniel was even more gentle when he ran his hands across the back of Rashid's naked thighs, over the scars there. He pressed a kiss to Rashid's chest and said nothing of it.

"God you're beautiful, like a painting," Daniel said instead, and Rashid couldn't help the little laugh that escaped him, heart full.

It made the older man crack a smile. He pinched the plush meat of his ass and drawled, "What, something funny about that? Don't tell me you have constructive criticism on my dirty talk, I have editors for that."

"I would barely call it dirty," Rashid replied. It was meant to sound matter of factly but he sounded fond. He cradled the sides of Daniel's face and pressed a kiss to one of his smile lines. "You're being sweet. I want to feel you in the back of my throat."

Daniel's heart thundered even harder against his sternum. "Don't let me stop you," he replied, hoarse.

Rashid moved down without another preamble. He couldn't help but untuck Daniel's plaid shirt from his pants and rack up the ugly fabric, nipping at the sensitive skin of his stomach as he moved down the man's body. Nosing at his happy trail until he was nestled safely between two spread legs. The floor was cold against his naked knees, and so Rashid ran his hands up and down Daniel's clothed thighs and relished in the heat of him. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed having a living lover.

It was obvious in the rise of his chest and the cloudiness to his eyes that Daniel wanted him, but his erection was only at half mast. Rashid took him into his mouth anyway, tongue lovingly stroking the pulse on the underside. It made Daniel throw his head back and groan, and Rashid ate up the sight of him. He took the man deeper into his mouth until his nose brushed up against silvery pubic hair, and inhaled the musk of him. Daniel's hand, trembling, started to run through inky black curls. The grip tightened once Rashid began to suck, hard. The groan that left Daniel made Rashid drip onto the floor.

"Fuck, you're perfect. I wanted that little mouth of yours around my cock since the first day I saw you, since the first time you got on your knees in front of me." To Rashid's despair, Daniel pulled him away by his hair. The older man looked down at him as he panted for air, drool dripping from the corner of his lips.

Daniel used his other hand to wipe the line of drool away. Then, he sunk his thumb between Rashid's teeth, prying them open. The faucet continued to pour. So did the rain.

"You remember that, don't you?" Daniel traced his gums and the tops of his bottom teeth. "I remember it. It's your fault I had to conduct the first session with a semi down my pants, you know. You need to take some responsibility for that, sweetheart, I'm meant to be a professional here."

"Yes, yes," Rashid whined.

"Yes, what?"

The lights flickered, and the thunder was not at fault this time around. His hands dug onto the jeans covering his lover's thighs, nails almost ripping through the gloves they were confined in. Rashid both hated and loved it when Daniel spoke so condescendingly towards him. "I, ah, I take responsibility," Rashid gasped. It was the first time that sentence ever left his mouth his entire life. "Let me show you how sorry I am."

Daniel's eyes glowed in the city lights, analytical even in the throes of passion. He patted Rashid's cheek in a patronizing manner before leaning back in his seat again.

"Yeah, show me."

When Daniel loosened his hold on Rashid's hair, the boy dived right back with reckless abandon, and Daniel guided him with a firm hand holding the back of his head; holding him down for longer than humanly possible. Rashid whined around his mouthful. He absolutely loved this. He adored the heady scent of Daniel's sex, the way he slowly filled up in his mouth. He adored how perfectly Daniel hit the back of his throat at full mast and made him gag. He adored the belly-deep sounds Daniel made when Rashid purposefully grazed his teeth over the sensitive head, and he adored it even more when Daniel didn't stop him.

He adored giving Daniel whatever the hell it was he wanted. It had always been a weak spot of his.

The hand in his hair tightened its grip. The vein began to throb on his tongue. Daniel forced Rashid to pull away and staggered down on his knees, on the same level as Rashid again.

Rashid reached out to help. "Be careful—"

The older man battered his hand away. "Shut the fuck up," he hissed before kissing him deeply, fingers digging onto a sculpted, smooth jaw, tasting himself on the other's bottom lip.

They ended up horizontal one way or another, bare on the cold floor with a thunderstorm surrounding them, with Daniel hovering over a nude, writhing Rashid. One hand was used to hold himself up while the other was around his prick, helping it find home. He was gentle as always. Rashid's hands were gripping onto Daniel's backside, impatient as always. He had worked himself open this morning, and preferred a touch of burning anyway.

"Yes, yes yes yes yes," Rashid repeated under his breath, like a mantra, a prayer against the soft, fleshy nook of Daniel's jaw.

Daniel shut him up with a tongue in his mouth.

It truly felt like coming home again, the moment Daniel finally rocked onto him, fully sheathed inside. Rashid's eyelashes fluttered shut. He felt whole again.

Daniel simply watched the serene look on his face for a moment, sweat dripping on his brow. "You are paying for the chiropractor after this," he said, voice strained. My back is going to fucking kill me.

"Of course." Rashid wrapped his legs around the other man's hips, neatly crossed at the ankles. He dug one heel onto his ass. "Please move, Mr. Molloy. I am ready."

And he did as he was told, because his boy had always been good at that when it came to sex. Experimentally, Daniel began to grind his hips onto Rashid's walls. He kept a languid pace, as if they had all the time in the world. This too felt like heaven. Rashid held onto the older man's shoulder blades with desperate hands and sunk his face onto his neck, nosing at the very scar he had given him all those years ago, breathing in the smell of him, keeping it inside for as long as he could get away with. The soft, gravelling words Daniel spoke to him in the quiet of the dining room made the heat in his gut build up to a simmering flame, threatening to burn him alive.

The bathtub was overflowing. Soapy, warm water slipping into dark tiles, reaching for the door to Daniel's guest room.

It was slow and gentle until it wasn't.

Daniel gave it all that he had, bad hip be damned, repeatedly bashing the back of Rashid's head onto the floor without care. Rashid became lost in it, wrapped his arms around a neck pumping with hot, sweet blood, and allowed Daniel to take control.

"Yes, yes yes yes," Rashid babbled, and lightning struck outside. "Harder, Beloved, yes."

"You're crazy," Daniel replied, biting him hard enough on his lower lip to almost draw red honey.

It became more and more difficult for Rashid to hide his nature. He was losing himself to pleasure, and every instinct told him to bite down and to feed on his lover. Instead Rashid rocked down onto every thrust, hid his face onto that lovely, sweet pulsepoint, and tore the back of Daniel's plaid shirt to ribbons.

However there was only so much Daniel's spine could handle before the rhythm became too slow and distorted. And then his right leg began to cramp up.

Rashid flipped them over without breaking a sweat and began to ride as if his life depended on it.

It knocked the breath out of the older man in more ways than one. Rashid didn't care. He placed his claws flat on Daniel's stomach, clenched his muscles and milked him for all he had.

Daniel's jaw went slack. Rashid grinned, triumphant.

"Does it feel good, Mr. Molloy?" he asked, voice breathy with restraint.

"I feel like I am actively dying, please don't stop," Daniel admitted in between irregular breaths, tongue too fat for his mouth. His hands held a vice grip on Rashid's punishing, gyrating hips, urging him back and forth, back and forth. There was a pained furrow to his brow which Rashid only wanted to deepen. A ripe redness to his cheeks which he wanted to drain. Always the masochist, his Daniel.

Rashid watched with wide, flashing eyes as Daniel threw his head back against the floor, flashing the monster hovering over him the column of his neck, flushed red with arousal. Rashid's eyes flashed at the sight. At the smell.

The bath was bubbling. Like black tar heroin in a vat.

His self control snapped in half.

"Jesus fucking christ," Daniel wheezed. "Babe, you're going to kill me here—"

The rest of Daniel's sentence was abruptly choked back by Rashid lunging down. Sharp teeth sliced through skin, thin with age and hot to the touch; yielding easily to a Vampire’s bite.

The taste of aged, sweetened blood, like decades old wine bled all across his tongue, filled his maw and ran down his throat. It made a mess of his angelic face, his chest. All of Daniel's emotions became his and he sobbed at the sensation. The weight of their history was so heavy to bear on his own. Now he wasn't alone. He took long, self-indulgent drags of diseased blood while he ground down on the cock inside him, taking and taking and taking. Daniel's one hand gripped around the monster's waist for dear life, while the other held the back of his head, pushing him further into the wound, telling him through actions alone, here you go, sweetheart, drink up. Take your fill. I'm not going anywhere.

The shiny black stone which the bathtub was made of, splintered and began to fall to pieces.

The monster came, untouched and unraveled, all over Daniel's stomach in hot red streaks. The older man came immediately after, or maybe he came when those teeth first pierced his flesh, or maybe they came at the exact same time; all the monster knew was that he was being filled with Daniel at both ends and he never wanted it to end.

The quiet after the storm was peaceful. It took a few seconds before he realized what he had done, and it took even shorter for the instinct of flight to hit him like a freight train. His sacrificial lamb cradled his face before he could do such a thing.

"There you are," said Daniel hoarsely, surprising Rashid, or Arun, or whoever he was meant to be.

His pale face wore a lopsided grin as he gazed into blood red eyes and a blood red mouth. Daniel's shirt was torn to shreds and barely covered his body. When the monster looked down the expanse of his skin he saw that his own hands, brown and bare, placed flat over a chest heaving with irregular breaths, were covered in the same life giving liquid which used to reside in Daniel's veins. He remembered. Earlier, the monster had ripped through Daniel’s back with deep, long gashes. He couldn't see the wounds, but he could smell them, see them seep over the cold granite floor. There was a wound the size of a human mandible on his boy’s neck which was gushing sluggishly with blood. He was losing a lot of it, yet pride rolled off the maniac in waves.

"You really thought you could hide from me in plain sight, huh?" he asked, tone infuriatingly smug as if he had known all along.

Maybe he had. He stared down at the man with wide, unblinking eyes, the hands on Daniel's rattling chest curled into fists so tight that the brown skin turned an ashen white.

Daniel's heart was failing. Not an unnatural occurrence for a man of his age and condition. The Vena Cava had burst during his small death, and Daniel tried to not let the pain throbbing all over his chest show on his face.

Til no avail. The monster could feel the organ shutting down alongside the rest of his body. Death was on the horizon.

"Maybe," the monster breathed out. He was still sitting on his softening cock and heaved for air he did not need. Then he admitted, "Not really, no."

Daniel snorted in response. He looked down at his stomach and the blood-cum streaking it. Swiped at the mess with a finger. The trembling of his hand did not come from Parkinson's, but from fear, and they both knew it. They ignored it all the same.

Brought it to his mouth. Hummed thoughtfully at the taste.

"Your name isn't really Rashid, is it?" he asked at long last.

Daniel was dying. They both knew he was dying. Those were his chosen last words. Curious to the very end. And see where that got him, his beautiful, dying boy.

With a grin which slowly spread over his face, fangs bloody, Armand shook his head no.

Notes:

Alternative title: "The Cheaters Get Blue-balled For So Long That Armand Rides Daniel to Death"

Ok I know that Armand wore contacts and that he'd realistically have to take them out to reveal his Giant Orange Orbs to Daniel, but I don't give a fuck. I also know that there are no windows in the dining room, but I wanted there to be lightning and rain and shit, so I don't give a fuck about that either. We are following the rule of cool here, which is the only rule that matters.

Anyway I hope you enjoyed the porn and that them finally orgasming together was worth the wait. The scene was so clear and perfect in my head that I wanted to take my time editing it, which is why the chapter came out a little late.

Don't forget to keep an eye out for the epilogue, we aren't done quite yet (that would have been fucking bleak lol)

Chapter 12: Epilogue

"For how long?"

They could be found on the crime scene formerly known as the dining hall. Daniel was sprawled in his usual seat and Louis in his, while Armand sat on a chair somewhere in the middle of them, Rashid-costume discarded and replaced with oddly familiar Whiskey eyes and claws. His demeanor had also shifted from one of servitude to one of centuries old bone-deep regret. There was an ocean of Daniel's old blood dried up at their feet.

We leave the damage behind, Claudia had said once.

It was nighttime. Daniel looked out of the window, at the dark, polluted skies. He wouldn't be seeing the sun for a while.

"Since I figured he was a fraud? I think the last straw was when I heard him say electronic mailbox," Daniel replied blandly. It was difficult to sound smug about being right when it had cost him his life.

Despite everything, Louis smiled. "Astutely observed, Daniel, but that is not what I was talking about. No, what I meant to ask was how long have you been fucking my…"

A look to Armand. It was a look of utter betrayal.

Armand was resolutely looking away from them both. He hadn't said a word yet, working his jaw over and over and over till the muscles on his face surely must feel sore. His hands were in very much the same restless state. Still, they were such pretty hands.

Daniel looked down at his own hands. The sharp nails looked alien on his thick, calloused fingers.

There was a teacup in front of Daniel which Armand had put down. He hooked his clawed finger in the loop and lifted the ceramic up to his lips. Type O filled his mouth, thick and molten as he swallowed the cool liquid down his esophagus. Smacked his lips. It tasted fine, but not as good as Damek's live, savory blood had been to his taste buds. Damek couldn't quench the hunger he felt, now.

"Honestly? We only had two aborted stints before this. Couldn't manage a proper bang before last night," Daniel admitted, because why the hell not. "And here we are."

"Here we are," repeated Louis. Then a pause. He folded his hands together and said, "The interview is compromised."

Daniel nodded. "It is."

What have you done, Armand, Louis had screamed in horror once he walked in on his companion cradling a reborn Daniel to his death-rattling chest, the both of them nude and covered in their shared blood like a fucked up version of Pietà. You promised you'd keep him in one piece.

The interview had been compromised for a while. It had been compromised ever since Daniel locked eyes with the devil disguised as an angel and felt a mortal tug of interest.

He looked towards Armand again. Put the cup down.

Shards of mismatched memories that did not belong to Daniel had flashed across his eyes during the Turning. Most of the memories were of a time centuries before his conception: warm Venetian summers and the smell of fresh poison as a slave boy's young hands mixed paint for his master. Memories of catacombs and filth, bloodshed bloodshed bloodshed, flashes of pale faces and words spoken in harsh French, of Louis.

Of Daniel. Younger. Happier.

He didn't understand what most of those memories meant, as vague and eclectic as they were. He couldn't even trust that they were all real to begin with. A general aura of insanity had clouded every silver of recollection and made them dizzying to the mind. So did the suffering. That Daniel had expected, but never in his wildest, most prophetic dreams could he have imagined the sheer scale of suffering.

And not only had his Maker endured it, but he dished out just as ruthlessly. A monster through and through.

Armand looked back at him, eyes changing from burnt sienna to ashen brown. Almost like how they looked before last night. His thoughts were shielded in a way which Louis' wasn't anymore, but Daniel could feel his grief and horror as if it was his own. It was fascinating. It was insanity, he knew it was, but Daniel couldn't possibly leave now that he was finally getting somewhere.

So, with his sight still on his Maker, Daniel asked Louis, "Do you want to continue anyway?"

Louis was also staring daggers through the side of Armand's head.

"Yeah, I do," he said, because although the betrayal might have left a rotten taste in his mouth, Louis felt like he was coming close to something huge. A revelation of sorts.

 

(Daniel was given a spare coffin which had been transported to his guest room. It was plush on the inside, just like the bed. But this was not where he wanted to rest tonight, so he turned around and began to wander.

He found Armand a couple floors down. He was clad in black silk pajamas, a fabric so exquisite that it made his surroundings seem even less so. A dark storage room with paintings stacked to the side, a creepy statue or two covered in a white sheet like ghosts. A diagonal bed on the other side of the room, pressed close to the wall. An open coffin in the middle which had gathered dust for the longest time. Daniel supposed this must be the Vampire equivalent of sleeping on the couch after a marital spat.

Armand's back was turned as he slipped inside, serpent-like. The coffin was about to close when Daniel curled his fingers beneath the lid.

It opened with a loud creak.

"You're not meant to be down here," said Armand. The pretty bastard looked up at him with a silent plea in those amber eyes, the glow of them enticing in the dark. He didn't ask how Daniel knew he was here because he didn't need to. They were beyond it.

"I'm not meant to do a lot of things," replied Daniel before he slipped inside.

He wrapped his arms around Armand's middle and buried his face into the back of his neck. He inhaled deeply even though there was no scent there. Never was. There was only a sliver of warmth from when he had drained Daniel the night before.

One of his hands began to travel down Armand's chest, to his stomach, beneath his navel.

"Unruly Fledgling, you will only get me into more trouble," Armand sighed. He almost sounded like an irritated parent, which Daniel supposed he sort of was, in one fucked up way or another. But the way he brought a hand up to run through Daniel's curls told him a different story. His fingers pulled him closer, but with his lips he softly mumbled, "The sun will be up soon. You need rest."

"Need you more," Daniel mumbled back, too hungry to formulate a proper biting response.

He began to mouth at the smooth, brown skin, dragging his blunt teeth along Armand's vacant pulse point. He couldn't penetrate it that way. It still made the older Vampire tilt his head with a soft gasp. Armand loved to feign helplessness. It might be the reason why he decided to keep Daniel around in the first place.

They fucked with the coffin wide open. Side by side, Armand's back pressed to Daniel's chest and groin, arched like a harp. Their legs were tangled together; writhing upon blood-soiled satin and silk. Daniel had one hand digging into his Maker's naked hip as he rutted inside the cold heat of him, drawing out desperate moans that only made him thrust deeper. His other hand wrenched that smooth jaw open so that Armand couldn't stifle his pleasure.

I wanna hear you, baby, Daniel had crooned into his Maker's ear before licking rosy sweat from his hairline. It doesn't matter if anyone hears us. Not down here.

Another deep, soul wrenching thrust.

Not anywhere. Not anymore.

The reminder made Armand choke on a sob. Daniel pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder, dragged his hand from Armand’s hip across the smooth expanse of his thigh, before it settled around Armand's weeping cock, giving it soothing pulls. The sight of blood spilling over his white knuckles made his fangs drop. Large and white like ivory tusks. They ached with growing pains.

They made Armand gasp. “Drink from me, Daniel.”

He twisted his head back so he could kiss him open-mouthed and filthy. His tongue lavished over Daniel's bleeding gums, along the sharpest points of his teeth.

In the dark, Daniel could see a red tear slip down Armand's cheek.

Funny, that: he had cried while feeding Daniel his blood last night, too.

"It's the blood that makes you strong, my first-born, my only Fledgling, mine," he moaned.

Another shard lodged itself into his mind. This time a conversation with his younger self.

They could be found somewhere sunny and warm in Miami: a luxurious hotel room that smelt of crisp sheets and sunbleached wood, the sound of waves licking up the shore could be heard through the balcony. The Vampire's new favorite film played on the TV, yet Armand laid on the queen sized bed and watched Daniel's naked back instead. The boy —24 years of age, the Chase had finally ended— hunched over the nightstand to cut up two lines of pure white cocaine with Armand's Black card. He mapped the indent of his spine beneath lean muscle, every mole and scar, the glow of the TV reflecting on his sun kissed skin.

Will you wish to stay by my side when you discover how ruthless I can be? Armand had asked afterwards, after the boy had taken his bumps and they had made love. Armand rested his head on Daniel's lap, melting into the hand carding through his hair. The overhead lightning glowed behind the boy's head like a halo.

I don’t know, Boss, a younger Daniel had laughed, bright eyes crinkled up at the corners. Will you let me?

“Daniel, drink now,” Armand whined, here and now, in a dusty, creaking coffin that he shared with his only Fledgling. He pushed Daniel's head to the pulse on his neck. "Drink."

I know you, Daniel thought. It was difficult to think while drowning in pleasure, but the revelation was too world-altering for him to ignore. I've gone my whole life missing you.

"Are you finally letting me, Boss?" Daniel asked. He dug his claws into Armand in case he decided to perform a vanishing act.

Armand writhed beneath his touch. He gasped with every thrust as if it was a knife to his chest, but he stayed put.

"Yes," Armand said as he let out another sob. The tears kept pouring over his cheeks, decorating that lovely face in the image of the weeping Madonna. "Have me, Beloved, please."

Drool pooled in his mouth. It soiled Armand's perfect skin when Daniel nosed along the side of his throat like a hungry dog. Good God, he could smell the catharsis on him, and it smelt heavenly. He breathed out, “How can I say no when you beg so pretty?”

Daniel pushed into the hilt and sucked the nectar straight from his Maker's sweet artery. Armand rolled his hips against Daniel like a man possessed til he came apart with his cries. Overwhelmed by his orgasm and sorrow, Armand reached out to grip the edge of the coffin. Daniel's thick, aged claws followed after, enveloping those delicate fingers in his blood smeared ones.)

Notes:

I’m sorry, I couldn’t just let Daniel die. I know death by orgasm would be a perfect way for him to go, but Armand and I both needed to resurrect that old man for Vampire sex purposes.

Anyway, thank you for joining me on this journey! I’m a little sad to let this story go, but I’m proud of how it ended. Was it obvious that Armand would turn Daniel? Personally I couldn’t see it go any other way. Let me know what you think x

Notes:

This all happened because I saw ONE edit. Like this was just meant to be a oneshot smut thing but then it went out of control because I enjoy writing tension too much whoops

Anyways the edit was by duamaximoff on twitter and the title is a lyrics taken from the song Spill The Milk by Eartheater, hope u enjoyed c:

Kudos and comments (especially comments) are appreciated x