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On the morning of his fiftieth birthday, Daniel Molloy discovered an appointment on his kitchen calendar that definitely hadn’t been there the night before.
It was written in an old-fashioned hand in dark red ink for 7pm at an infamously overpriced restaurant he’d never stepped foot in. He tried and failed to think of anyone who’d been in his apartment lately who would’ve booked such a meal for him and came up blank. Certainly not his daughters or Alice. It could’ve been his agent, but then again mystique was not the middle name of that flashy asshole. So then who?
Tracing the words with a finger, Daniel felt not recognition, not exactly, but a faint familiarity, déjà vu, as if he’d stood in the same spot before and traced the same words. Huh.
He spent the day hunched over his computer, trying to organise notes for the first chapter of his new book into something at least vaguely comprehensible, but when he read it back it was nothing but fragmented nonsense. And again and again his eyes were drawn to the calendar, to the mystery appointment that was drawing slowly but inexorably nearer.
At 6pm he decided not to go. Fuck whoever had put it there with no explanation, even on the off chance it was genuine. Let them sit in the fancy dining room by themselves, sipping champagne and eating lobster thermidor that probably cost more than he made on his last book tour. He definitely wasn’t going.
At 6.30pm as he shrugged on his best suit jacket and stomped into his least scuffed shoes, he told himself firmly that he wouldn’t actually go inside the restaurant. He’d simply stroll by and peer in, try to get a glimpse of his anonymous dinner date organiser.
When his cab dropped him right outside, he cursed under his breath as he realised a quick peek wasn’t going to be possible; the windows at the front of the building only gave view to an ornate lobby. While he loitered on the sidewalk, one of the wide gold doors opened and a crisply dressed young man addressed him politely.
“Are you coming in, Sir?”
“Uh…” said Daniel, before thinking fuck it , his journalistic need to know overriding his hesitation. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Stepping aside to let him enter, the young man gestured towards the maître d'hôtel, standing behind a podium bearing a weighty diary. As he approached she flashed him a practised smile and asked if he had a reservation.
“Uh, possibly.”
Her left eyebrow rose minutely. “Your name, Sir?”
“Molloy. Daniel Molloy.”
A well manicured nail ran down a page, stopping in the middle. “Ah yes, Mr. Molloy, table for two. Please, follow me.
She turned and headed briskly for another set of double doors, Daniel hurrying after her. The dining area was even more opulent than he’d imagined, dripping with chandeliers and gold brocade wallpaper.
“Here we are, Sir.”
The maître d' stopped abruptly and Daniel, momentarily distracted by the lavish furnishings, almost collided with her. Then his gaze landed on the person already seated at the table.
The man was tall and slender and dressed all in white, fitted pants clinging to long legs. A silk shirt was unbuttoned far enough to display a valley of shadow between his pecs and a cape style jacket draped over narrow shoulders. The ensemble, combined with his slicked back hair and a cigarette held loosely between two slim fingers gave him an uncanny resemblance to Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct .
Okaaay, thought Daniel, eyes lingering on the man’s chest. Not what I was expecting.
“Would you like to take a seat, Sir?”
Starting, Daniel realised the maître d' had pulled out a chair and was waiting for him to take it. “Uh, yeah.” Sitting, he met the stranger’s gaze, big brown liquid eyes that seemed almost too large for his head. And again, the little tug of familiarity, as if he’d sat at this exact table in this exact room before, staring at the same beautiful man.
The maître d' expressed her desire that Daniel enjoy his meal before melting away, replaced almost instantly with a waiter who carefully poured chilled white wine into a goblet. The stranger presented his own glass for a top up, and Daniel noted that he had nails like shards of ice.
“I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Molloy, but I took the liberty of ordering both drink and food in advance of your arrival.”
Keeping his expression carefully neutral, Daniel shrugged and took a swig of wine. “As long as you’re paying, man, I don’t really care. But I would quite like to know who the hell you are and why you, presumably, broke into my apartment to write a fucking dinner date on my calendar.”
A coy smile graced the stranger’s lips as he took a final drag of his cigarette then stubbed it out in a crystal ashtray. He shifted in his seat, the thin silk of his shirt pulling taut on one side, hugging a nipple. “Is that what you think this is? A date?”
Feeling a little hot around the collar, Daniel took another sip of wine before repeating his question. “How did you get into my home, Mr…?”
“Armand. My name is Armand. And actually, I had a key.”
“OK, and where the fuck did you get a key for my apartment from, Armand. Alice? One of my daughters? Because if you’ve done anything to either of my girls then I fucking swear I’ll-”
“I haven’t had any contact with either your former spouse or Kate and Lenora, Mr. Molloy, rest assured. The key was simply gifted to me several years ago.”
Pushing his glasses up his nose, Daniel set his jaw. “Gifted by who?”
Before Armand could reply another waiter arrived bearing a platter of deliciously scented chicken and vegetables. And then another appeared with an equally divine looking dish, then another and another until the entirety of the sizeable table was laden with rich, irresistible food.
“Please, help yourself, Mr. Molloy. I ordered all of your favourites.”
“Who gave you a key to my apartment?” Daniel asked again, trying to focus on the conversation even as his mouth began to water from the aroma emanating from a succulent duck l'orange. “And how the fuck do you know what my favourite foods are?”
“Eat, please. And afterwards, I promise I shall respond to all of your questions.”
Daniel wanted to say he wasn’t hungry, that he wanted answers rather than gourmet cuisine, but everything looked so delectable, and it really had been too long since anyone had treated him to such a spread. As he started to eat lustily, furiously, he experienced again that twinge of familiarity, as if he were an actor in a play going through the motions of a well-rehearsed scene.
“You not gonna have any of this?” he queried around a mouthful of foie gras.
“I’m not hungry for…food” Armand replied softly, eyelashes fluttering as his fingers ran up and down the stem of his glass.
Crossing his legs, Daniel took a large gulp of wine and stuffed a caviar blini between his lips.
By the time he’d finished feasting, Daniel was feeling full and pleasantly woozy. Relaxing back in this chair, he reminded himself to try and stay in control of whatever the fuck this sitution was. He adjusted his belt a little and fixed Armand with a frown. “So. Answers.”
“Of course” Armand said graciously. His lower jaw slid from side to side, and then-
Then he was seated directly in front of Daniel on the table, even though he hadn’t appeared to move at all.
Scrambling back, Daniel almost tipped his chair right over. “What the fuc-”
Cool fingers found his temples, taping the ripped out pages of memory back into place as familiarity finally became recognition and Armand’s face ceased to be that of a stranger.
“Oh, you motherfucker” Daniel cursed loudly. “You absolute fucking cun-”
In another act of inhuman speed, Armand slipped off the table and straddled Daniel’s chair, crushing their mouths together as he grasped at Daniel’s face, his hips, his arms as if trying to touch all of him at once.
And despite himself Daniel kissed him back, ravenous, his glasses sliding down and bumping awkwardly against Armand’s nose. The sensation of cold lips and tongue against his own was more satisfying than a thousand plates of delicious food ever could be.
When they parted, Armand was smiling in a way that was somehow both beatific and demonic. “Daniel”, he whispered tenderly. “Daniel…”
He leant in for another smooch, but Daniel grimaced, pushing Armand away from his stomach. “Just, easy there, OK?”
“I’m so glad you enjoyed your meal” murmured Armand, gently petting the curve of Daniel’s belly. “It’s your birthday, after all, and such a significant one for mortals. You deserve to have all the nice things that you crave.”
“Uh, yeah, nice” Daniel muttered in reply, gaze returning briefly to Armand’s partially exposed chest before he glanced around at the milky eyed occupants of the room, frozen mid-bite presumably just prior to the kiss. They presented an unnerving tableau of tony dining. “So, you gonna let these snobs get back to their exorbitantly priced truffle tagliatelle or what?”
Shimmying off his lap, Armand stood and proffered a palm. “Let us leave them to it.”
A shiver ran through Daniel at how good Armand’s chilled fingers felt entwined in his as he took the outstretched hand. “Just because I’m coming with you doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you. Asshole.”
They glided through the sea of breathing waxworks, or, more accurately, Armand glided and Daniel tried not to stumble over his own feet, the move from sitting to standing making him suddenly aware of his drunkenness. They barrelled out of the lobby, through the gold doors and straight into an obnoxiously large limousine as it pulled up on the sidewalk. The inside was crammed full of furnishings in shades of turquoise and gold, while the ceiling was a mass of twinkling LED stars.
“Jesus Christ” Daniel muttered, passing a hand over his face as he slumped onto the velvet couch. “Any chance of you taking me somewhere tonight that doesn’t look like it was designed by someone with too much money and too little taste?”
“I designed the interior of this automobile” Armand said pointedly as he sat down delicately next to him, their knees bumping.
“Exactly” Daniel replied snarkily. The car started to move, swaying through traffic, and after a few seconds he raised a hand to his mouth. “Shit, I think I’m gonna ralph. You gotta bucket? Or I can just puke over those throw cushions there. I’ll try and pick a spot where it’ll blend right in-”
Frozen fingertips folded around Daniel's wrist. As his gorge fell and his head cleared, foggy intoxication was replaced by sharp clarity. Blinking rapidly, he stared at the creature in front of him, now in full focus.
“Did you just-”
“Do you recall your thirtieth birthday?” Armand interrupted, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“I do now, you fucking-”
“You insisted on ordering dessert even though you had already consumed more courses than you even had tonight. Raspberry trifle. Afterwards, I took you to Bemelmans Bar and you retched both on the carpet and in the grand piano-”
Sitting up straighter, Daniel shook his head at the restored memory. “The manager went crazy, tried to throw us out, but you made him mop it up on his hands and knees-”
“With his hands and knees, actually-”
“You didn’t stop me from chucking up then- ”
“No, but then you were not threatening to regurgitate over my Gucci cushions.” Reaching under the couch, Armand slid open a drawer from which he extracted a bottle of Evian. “Drink this” he instructed, passing the water to Daniel. “My powers do not yet extend to the prevention of dehydration.”
Rolling his eyes, Daniel took the bottle. “So” he said conversationally as he unscrewed the lid and took a sip. “You still with Louis?”
Although Armand’s expression didn’t change, Daniel detected a slight stiffening of his shoulders.
“Yes.
“Uh huh. And how’s that going?”
“Louis and I are in love. We are secure in our relationship.” There was an edge to his tone, an unspoken warning not to press the subject further. Daniel ignored it.
“Oh yeah, sure, so secure in fact that once a decade you fuck off to New York or wherever I happen to be and bang me till the sun comes up-”
“You have no idea what you are talking about-”
“Then fucking explain it to me!” Daniel spat with such force that flecks of spittle sprayed Armand’s flawless face. “What am I to you, huh? What the fuck is this?”
Slim fingers wrapped around his neck, and for a moment Daniel thought he’d pushed it too far, that this is how he’d die, windpipe crushed in a lurid limo by a Botticelli angel attired like a femme fatale. At least it would be a novel way to go. But instead Armand stroked his throat, tracing his carotid artery. “You are…a special birthday treat.”
Daniel snorted in derision. “I’m a treat for you, on my birthday? To paraphrase a song Kate used to play on repeat when she still lived with me, that is just so typically you.”
A small huff of mirth escaped Armand as his hands dropped. He glanced away, jaw shifting. “Perhaps it would be best if I took you straight home tonight, Daniel. Despite the fact that you have spent a good third of our time together tonight ogling my chest, you seem more in the mood for a fight than a-”
“It’s kinda hard not to look at the twins when you’re dressed like that”, he rejoined. “And I never said I didn’t want, uh - look, I just want to know what the fuck we are.”
Huge chocolate eyes bore into Daniel like Armand was trying to penetrate his very soul. “Perhaps that is something we are yet to figure out.”
“Yeah, well, one of us should probably get a move on with it, ‘cause I’m not getting any-” Wait. Chocolate eyes. “You’re wearing your contact lenses.”
“Yes. Would you like me to remove them? Or-” Armand tipped his head to one side. “Would you like to remove them yourself?”
“Of course that would count as foreplay to you” Daniel huffed. “Someone rubbing your eyeballs.”
“You’ve thought about it before-”
“Stay the fuck out of my head” Daniel protested. Vaguely, he was aware he was teetering on a precipice, that he could still pull himself back, still ask Armand to take him home, still spend the night sleeping alone in a too big bed. But, as always, he couldn't help but let himself fall.
Reaching up, he contemplated wiping the spit from Armand’s face but decided to leave it there, instead bringing an index finger to rest against a cornea. As he dragged down the circle of plastic, Armand emitted a sigh of pleasure that went straight to his cock. Using a thumb for the other lens, he applied more pressure. Armand’s eyelids fluttered as he sighed again, a little lower, a little more guttural, before the soft spheres were released in tandem. Daniel brushed them away distractedly, not bothering to see where they landed, his attention captured instead by tangerine irises as Armand leant in.
They took their time with the second kiss, Armand dictating a languid pace as he licked into Daniel’s mouth. It was slow, sensual, Daniel losing himself completely in the deep cold of the vampire’s touch. Eventually needing to break for air, he tapped Armand’s thigh - gently at first, then with a little more insistence when he didn’t seem to get the hint - until he was released with a sharp nip to his lower lip. Eyes opening, he caught a flash of fangs as they retreated and Armand’s tongue darted out to lap up a drop of blood that was attempting to escape down his chin.
“I missed the taste of you” Armand stated with an intensity that should’ve been terrifying, pupils quivering, but which Daniel found almost unbearingly arousing.
“That outfit really is ridiculous” Daniel replied hoarsely as his hands drifted towards Armand’s chest, tracing the outline of his pecs - tits, really, Christ, look at them . “I mean, this shirt is barely containing you. Back in the restaurant I kept thinking a nipple was gonna pop out any second.”
Long fingers covered Daniel’s own. “If you would like, you could pop them out yourself, Mr. Molloy.”
“If you would like, you could pop them out yourself, Mr. Molloy” Daniel mimicked in an attempt at a British accent that came out more Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins than whatever region Armand was pretending to hail from these days. “Your dirty talk is terrible, you know.”
“And yet it still seems to do something for you” Armand responded archly, gaze flicking down to the tented crotch of Daniel’s pants.
“Oh, shut up” said Daniel. Internally, his libido had a brief tussle with his need to win an argument and came out the victor. So instead of hurling a more venomous comeback he slid his hands inwards, gripping a handful of silk in each fist and pulled the sides apart with as much force as his not inconsiderable biceps could muster.
Pearl buttons pinged off, lost in the limo like the contact lenses.
“There they are” Daniel rasped, fingers finally connecting with Armand’s bare chest, squeezing the supple flesh. Cold like marble, yet so malleable under his touch. He was twenty again, feeling them for the first time in a seedy bar in San Francisco, clutching, clawing, never wanting to let go, yearning for everything Armand could give him.
You deserve to have all the nice things that you crave.
Bending his head, he sucked one nipple into his mouth while a hand still roughly palmed the other, tongue swirling around the nub in the way he recalled always made Armand come undone. The vampire started to pant, chest heaving, and Daniel clamped down hard with lips and teeth to keep hold, drawing little wells of blood that he lapped up without thinking. The heady sense of power that coursed through him was electrifying, intoxicating, illuminating. Biting down harder, he drew more of the sweet blood into his mouth until Armand gently but firmly pushed him away.
“Hey, I was enjoying that-”
“Everything in moderation.”
“Pot calling the kettle black, much?” Daniel replied petulantly, tongue sweeping his lips to catch every delectable drop. “If you knew anything about moderation the inside of this limo wouldn’t look like a cheap strip club. And anyway, you said-”
“I know what I said, and I will give you everything that you crave, do not doubt that, Daniel.” As if in demonstration of his words, Armand shrugged off the remains of his shirt and removed his shoes, pants and underwear with such efficiency that Daniel barely had time to take a quick sip of water before he was fully nude, thick cock standing to attention.
Daniel licked his lips again, now for an entirely different reason.
“Here” Armand murmured, clever fingers already undoing Daniel’s belt. “Let me help divest you of your garments.”
It was only when Daniel was equally naked and Armand’s eyes raked over his body that a wave of self-consciousness hit him as the effects of the blood started to dissipate. Compared to the creature in front of him who could give Michaelangelo’s David a run for his money, Daniel was - well, he was a fifty year old divorcee who ate too much processed food, resulting in a belly that bulged even when it wasn’t full. Last time they’d done this, his stomach had still been almost flat.
“If it would help to alleviate your self-doubt, I can tell you truthfully that I find you just as alluring now than I did when you were twenty. Perhaps even more so.”
“I told you to stay outta my head. And anyway, that’s bullshit, people don’t find middle-age spread attractive-”
“I’m not people” Armand reminded him, tangerine eyes brightening to an almost neon hue as he dragged a thumb slowly across the roundest part of Daniel’s belly, teasingly avoiding touching the cock that strained against it. “Your body’s ability to change, to soften in such a pleasing way, is one of the things I find most captivating about you.”
“God, you’re really fucking weird.”
Smiling sweetly as if he’d just been paid a compliment, Armand reached under the seat into the drawer again and extracted a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube. Shaking out a yellow foil square, he opened it carefully and then finally touched Daniel’s cock, rolling the rubber down neatly as Daniel’s breathing became ragged.
The cloying smell of artificial fruit reached Daniel’s nostrils, causing him to scrunch up his nose. “What’s that supposed to be, banana?”
“Pineapple.”
“You always choose such weird fucking rubbers” Daniel groused between pants. He wasn’t sure why Armand even bothered with protection, if he just enjoyed the novelty of performing a human ritual or if vampires could actually catch or transmit STIs. He made a mental note to remember to ask, this time, which promptly went clear out of his head as Armand straddled him, pushing him down to lie flat on the couch.
“Hey, you want me to, uh, warm you up a bit first?” Daniel offered, waggling fingers as Armand slicked Daniel’s cock with lube and lined it up with his hole. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“Thank you for the offer, but there is no need. I prepared myself in advance of arriving at the restaurant.”
“Oh.” An image of Armand fingering himself wantonly flashed through Daniel’s brain. “Jesus, yeah, OK. You sure you don’t want a quick refresh though? What with the vampire healing factor-”
“I’m ready” Armand replied impatiently, his tone brooking no argument. “Are you, or would you rather make idle small talk instead?”
“I-” Daniel realised he’d been stalling, delaying the inevitable. Because the sooner the sex was over, the sooner Armand would-. Cutting off the thought before it killed his erection, he brought his hands up to Armand’s hips, squeezing hard enough to bruise. “I’m ready.”
Armand lowered himself carefully onto Daniel’s cock, taking it slow, inch by inch. Despite his preparation he was tight, but no trace of pain graced his faultless features, only hunger, desire, pure want. When he was settled, all of Daniel inside him, he closed his eyes and began to rock, mouth open, jaw hanging slack. Giving himself over to pleasure, he could almost pass for human in the dim mood lighting of the limo. Almost. But no human could ever be quite so beguiling, so intoxicating, and Daniel let himself fall under his spell without protest, just as he always did, every thrust sending a heady jolt of pleasure into him, electrifying his whole body. He remembered coming embarrassingly fast the first time they ever did this at the alien feeling of being inside a vampire. It wasn't cold, exactly, not like his skin, but it wasn't warm either; a just right middle temperature like a fucked up version of Goldilocks that no human could ever emulate.
Taking hold of Daniel’s hands, Armand relocated them from his hips back to his chest.
Squeezing his pecs again, Daniel dug his fingernails into the already healing bite marks he’d left on one tit earlier.
Gasping, Armand increased the tempo of his thrusts.
“You want - you want me to touch you?” Daniel asked breathlessly, ogling his painfully erect looking member.
Shaking his head, Armand increased his pace to an almost punishing speed without the faintest tremble in his perfect thighs.
“Holy shit ” Daniel murmured, knowing he’d come quicker than he wanted to if he kept gazing at the vampire. A thought occurred to him as he tipped his head back, a quixotic, whimsical, foolishly romantic thought, that if he etched this moment deep enough into his memory, Armand could never quite remove it however hard he tried. He imagined writing down all the details; the fake pineapple scent hanging in the air, the soft twinkle of tiny lights, the wonderful, singular sensation of being inside Armand. He pictured carefully folding the make-believe paper and locking it inside a small box that he tucked away in a dusty cupboard in his mind, its location known to no one but him. Hopefully, it would be hidden there.
A particularly deep thrust brought him out of his head, back into the moment, and he realised he was about to come.
“You can touch me now” Armand instructed huskily.
Wrapping fingers around the vampire’s cock, Daniel only managed a few jerky tugs before his orgasm overwhelmed him and his grip loosened. “Oh my - fuck. FUCK!”
Apparently the brief contact was enough for Armand; he cried out as his own ejaculate painted his belly, his tits, the dusting of hair on his chest. His hips continued to rock, wringing out every last drop of pleasure for both of them.
Daniel’s eyes drifted shut as he was enveloped by a sense of warm, fuzzy overwhelm. And even though the lights above him were no longer visible through his closed lids, he could, somehow, still see stars.
***
Afterwards, prostrated together on a clean section of couch in a pile of post-coital bliss, the musky smell of sex hanging heavily in the air, two cigarettes materialised between Armand’s slim fingers.
“Thanks” said Daniel, taking one as he lifted his head from the vampire’s chest. It lit when it touched his lips, and he took a deep drag before scrunching his nose in distaste and coughing. “Jesus, I forgot you only smoke menthol. What’s with that, huh? It’s not like you can even taste them.”
“I find it fascinating, the human need to find new and innovative ways to improve the enjoyment of a substance that you all know will kill you eventually” Armand answered thoughtfully, staring at his own cigarette as if it were both an incomprehensible puzzle and a fascinating work of art. “These particular cigarettes, prototypes not yet on the common market, have been manufactured with a small capsule just below the filter that, when pressed, releases a burst of strawberry. Why don’t you try it?”
Bracing himself, Daniel squeezed the little red circle. Spluttering, he gestured frantically with his free hand towards the bottle of water.
Armand plucked it up, opened it and held it to his lips as Daniel took a large gulp.
“Fuck, that’s worst than the lemon ones you had in the seventies. And those tasted like dish soap.”
“A pity” said Armand, continuing to puff on his. “Although perhaps one day humans will master the science of artificial flavouring.”
Daniel snorted. “Maybe. Smokes and rubbers that actually taste like fruit rather than the inside of a jockstrap, wouldn’t that be something. I’ll likely be long gone by then though so you’ll have to find some other poor schmuck to fuck once a decade who’ll be willing to try them for you.”
“I doubt I will ever find another quite like you, Daniel.”
He spoke in such a matter of fact manner, like he was commenting on nothing more remarkable than the weather, that the words took several seconds to register in Daniel’s brain.
Oh.
“Listen, Armand-”
“You kept these on during intercourse” the vampire interrupted, touching the sides of Daniel's glasses. “Yet you never have before.”
“Yeah, well, I don't just need them for reading now - FUCK!”
The still lit cigarette, dangling forgotten from Daniel's fingers, had singed his knuckles. He flicked it quickly away and it landed on one of the Gucci cushions where it promptly scorched a small hole in the turquoise fabric. “Jesus! That fucking thing burnt quicker than a Swedish Christmas goat.”
“Like I said, it was a prototype. I shall be sure to relay your criticism to the manufacturer.” Armand gazed at the cigarette, causing it to extinguish. “My cushion” he said sadly.
“Yeah, well, it's not like you can't afford another one” Daniel offered by way of consolation, relaxing back into Armand’s embrace and trailing his fingers down one of his arms, revelling in the feel of it, slender yet sinewy with muscle. “And even if you do ever experience a dearth of rich halfwits to sell ugly art to, you could just hawk this fucking limo to Hugh Hefner, then you'd be able to buy all the overpriced pillows you want.”
Reaching over Daniel's torso to the drawer under the couch, Armand produced a small porcelain ashtray and stubbed his own cigarette out pointedly as if demonstrating correct etiquette. “I have in fact already sold one of the other limousines in my fleet to Mr. Hefner. The interior is fuchsia and silver and it features a switch, which, when pressed, causes a disco ball to descend from a hidden compartment in the ceiling to the strains of the song Sexbomb by the popular singer Tom Jones.”
“Oh, fuck off” Daniel scoffed fondly. He pressed a kiss to Armand’s collar bone, enjoying the coolness of his skin against his lips again even as he shivered involuntarily.
Armand's brow wrinkled in apparent concern. “You are cold.”
“I mean, I am naked and snuggled up to a corpse, so no duh-”
“Andre, please increase the temperature in this vehicle” Armand instructed, raising his voice.
Incredulous, Daniel swivelled his head round to gawp at the partition between them and the driver. “Wait, he can hear us? Jesus Christ, does that mean he heard-”
“I can assure you that Andre is handsomely compensated for his discretion.”
“And I get dental” commented a disembodied voice.
“Of course you do” Daniel replied, barking a laugh. He looked back at Armand. “You’re a ridiculous fucking creature, have I ever told you that?”
“Yes, many times” Armand said softly.
Noticing a fleck of spit still glistening on the vampire’s cheek, Daniel found himself biting down on the same spot on his lip that Armand had nipped at earlier. On a human the spit would’ve likely evaporated after the physical excursions of sex, but not so with this undead creature. It would remain until it was wiped away. Hot. His gaze flicked from cheek to eyes, and they stared at each other for several seconds before both leaning in at the same time.
Making out lazily as the air warmed in the limo, Daniel found himself hard-pressed to think of a time in recent years when he had been as relaxed, as comfortable, as himself as he was in that moment. He threaded fingers through the vampire’s curls, tugging just enough to hurt, and Armand responded with a moan as he reached between Daniel’s legs.
“Hmmm” Armand murmured in puzzlement as he broke the kiss.
“Hmmm?”
“I can sense that you are experiencing arousal, although your body appears…unmoved.”
Daniel shook his head, bemused. “How are you nearly five hundred years old yet know no more about biology than your average middle school kid?”
“I do not comprehend how my knowledge of human physiology pertains to this conversation-”
“It’s - it’s been a couple years since I could go twice in one night without, uh, chemical assistance, is what I’m saying” Daniel explained, trying to push down his rising embarrassment before Armand could sense it. “So unless you’ve got any little blue pills knocking around in here then it’s looking to be a one bang kinda night”.
Armand’s expression became even more perplexed. “I can only assume that you are referring to the film The Matrix , where Morpheus presents Neo with a choice between a blue and a red pill, but again, I do not understand how this pertains-”
“I’m not talking about the fucking Matrix, Armand! Jesus, you and your sci-fi flicks. Look, just - just ask Jeeves about it later, OK?”
“I am not familiar with anyone by that name-”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, just kiss me again you immortal idiot.”
They made out for a little longer, until Daniel’s eyelids started to droop and he failed to stifle a yawn around Armand’s tongue.
“You are tired, Daniel.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been an eventful night to say the least. Don’t suppose you’ve got an expresso maker rattling about in that drawer you keep reaching into?”
Armand ran a hand down Daniel’s side, stopping to linger at his waist. “I am afraid there are no caffeinated beverage machines in this limousine.”
“Course there aren't” Daniel huffed. “They would take up valuable space you could fill with gaudy decor-”
“May I suggest, instead of ingesting stimulants, that you recover your energy by having a brief res-”
Daniel fixed the vampire with a piercing glare. “If you tell me to fucking rest I will stick one of those gross cigarettes straight through an eyeball.”
Cool fingers squeezed a little harder than was comfortable at a soft hip. “I feel I do not need to tell you that, if you did seriously try and perform such an attack, I could kill you before you even lifted a finger.”
As he swallowed thickly, Daniel’s cock twitched half-heartedly. Oh, so making out with the hot guy doesn’t perk you up, but the thought of him fucking slaughtering me does, huh?
A smile flickered across Armand’s lips. “Do you often have conversations with your penis?”
“Stay out of my brain” Daniel grumbled as he pillowed his head back on Armand’s chest.
Pulling him closer, Armand draped a long leg over his thigh. “I recently read Hate and Ashbury. I enjoyed it thoroughly.”
“You mean you enjoyed seeing the gaps where you should’ve been” Daniel murmured accusingly into his tits.
“Partly, I cannot deny that. But I also consider it to be your finest work to date.”
“You and the rest of the world, apparently”, Daniel said, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Although aware he should’ve been ecstatic over the success of his memoir, any other fucker would’ve been, it was difficult given everything he’d attempted to write in the two years since completing it had been muddled garbage that he’d discarded after a few chapters. It was as if he’d finally drained dry the well of words inside himself.
“You will write another great book again” Armand commented confidently. “Something quite extraordinary. Of that I am sure.”
Not bothering to remind the vampire to stay out of his head for the fourth time, Daniel sighed, burying further into his cleavage. “Maybe. Fucking maybe.”
***
Darkness enveloped Daniel, an inky blackness so intense it invoked a sense of claustrophobia, as if the dark itself was crowding him, boxing him into an increasingly small space. Somewhere, distantly, a voice whispered, fast and low, words he couldn’t quite make out. He tried to move - needed to move, he realised, needed to reach that voice, to hear what it was saying, but he couldn’t feel his legs. Trying to cry out, he found he couldn’t make any sound apart from a tiny, pathetic squeak. Dread coursed through him, overwhelming him, as he realised there was nothing he could do to-
“Daniel. Daniel. DANIEL.”
Blinking blearily, head pounding, he sat up as fast as he could, disorientated by his surroundings. For a moment he couldn’t work out why the lamps in his apartment seemed to have turned into a cluster of sparkling stars, or why his furniture had all been replaced by an abundance of tasteless throw cushions. Then the events of the evening came flooding back.
“You were having a nightmare” Armand stated, fingertips running down his back in a gesture that was clearly meant to be soothing. “Locked in a dark room, unable to speak or move. It is a dream you have often.”
“No it's not” Daniel lied futilely, irritated. “Not that it’s any of your business, anyway.” The thought that he was thirsty had barely formed before a bottle of water was being pressed to his lips and he was gulping it down greedily. As he finished it, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, his headache kicked up a notch. “Your cure for drunkenness doesn’t extend to preventing hangovers, huh?”
“Sadly not yet, but it is something I can work on for next time” Armand said as he gave Daniel’s spine one last stroke, then began untangling their limbs.
“You hear that, Andre?” Daniel said loudly, turning towards the partition. “Looks like your boss is gonna need some test subjects for his latest experiment.”
“As long as he pays me overtime” called back the faceless voice.
As Armand finished unfurling their bodies and began plucking up his clothes, Daniel was overcome with a profound sense of emptiness at the loss of his touch. Uncomfortable suddenly in his nudity, he rooted around in the dim limo for his own garments, tugging them on quickly.
“Hey Andre, turn the lights up a bit, will ya? I can only find one shoe.”
“The lighting always stays at this brightness” said Armand.
“You find my fucking brogue then” Daniel snapped.
Finishing dressing himself, Armand bent down, ridiculous shirt flashing his cleavage as he retrieved the errant shoe and passed it to Daniel. “You know I do not like parting angry.”
“Yeah, well” Daniel muttered, shoving his foot into the brogue and lacing it too tightly. I don’t like parting at all . The thought flashed across his mind before he could stop it, and he looked up to see Armand’s face crumple, tangerine eyes welling with blood.
“It is how it has to be” Armand declared mournfully.
“Is it, or is that just something you’ve managed to convince yourself is true over the last thirty years?”
Smiling sadly, Armand leant in for a final kiss, brief and bittersweet. Then he raised his hands to Daniel’s temples, the cool pads of his fingers pressing into warm skin.
“You really don’t have to do this” Daniel said, trying to keep his voice level even as panic clawed up his throat, threatening to crack it.
“It is easier this way.”
“Easier for who?”
Daniel could feel Armand start to pick and probe through his restored memories, altering parts and erasing others. He didn’t beg as he did at twenty, cry like at thirty, below in rage as at forty. Maintaining eye contact with the vampire, he kept talking.
“You could visit now and then, finally put that key I gave you to use more than once a decade. You got email yet or are you mainly an ink and parchment kinda bloodsucker? Hell, maybe you’re still stuck on fucking carrier pigeons. Look, however you wanna communicate, you could let me know when you’re gonna drop by rather than just, you know, sneaking in and writing ominous fucking invitations on my calendar.”
The recollections of previous birthdays had been mostly leeched away by the time Daniel finished speaking, leaving behind nothing but ghostly gaps. He could sense Armand searching for the most recent memories, saw him frown as he realised they weren’t where he expected them to be, felt him use his powers to spread out tendrils in his brain, hunting for them. And he knew in that moment that the attempt to hide them had been futile, that it had bought him nothing but a few seconds at most.
“Armand” he said, voice finally breaking, desperation seeping in. “Don’t. Don’t fucking do this.”
Scarlet tears spilled down Armand’s cheeks as he located the dusty cupboard and shattered the lock on the small box.
“I cannot have you remember. I cannot see you again until-”
“Until what, I’m sixty?” Daniel asked as the paper was unfolded, the words written on it gently erased. “What if I don’t want to wait that long to do this again?”
“You will not know you are waiting.”
Daniel thought back on years of failed relationships, years of feeling restless, unsettled, of not being where he needed to be, where he belonged, of searching for the missing puzzle piece that would make him complete. Of the recurring nightmare of being trapped, frozen in place, of an unknown presence he could never reach, of a voice he couldn’t quite hear. “I think I do know. I think as much as I try to get on with my life, there’s a part of me that’s been waiting for you since I was twenty.”
“Daniel, please-”
“Why only once a decade, Armand?” As his mind started to fog he fought to stay present, to finish saying what needed to be said. “You - you wanna hear my theory about it? I think you know if we do this more often there’s a good chance we’ll actually figure out what this thing is between us. And I think - I think that frightens the fuck outta you.”
Silently, Armand removed his fingers from Daniel’s face, lower lip wobbling in a way he couldn’t seem to prevent.
Flopping forward, Daniel’s body became loose as the memories left him. The last thing he saw before spider-like limbs enveloped him, holding him tightly in one last embrace, was a bloody, cherubic face and a pair of beautifully terrifying eyes that reflected back to him the heartache he would too soon forget.
***
On the morning of his sixtieth birthday, Daniel Molloy discovered an appointment on his kitchen calendar that definitely hadn’t been there the night before.
It was written in an old-fashioned hand in dark red ink for 7pm at an infamously overpriced restaurant he’d never stepped foot in. He tried and failed to think of anyone who’d been in his apartment lately who would’ve booked such a meal for him and came up blank. Certainly not his daughters or either of his ex-wives, and the last time his agent had been over the conversation had ended in more than a few hurled expletives. So then who?
Tracing the words with a finger, Daniel felt not recognition, not exactly, but a faint familiarity, déjà vu, as if he’d stood in the same spot before and traced the same words.
Huh.