Chapter Text
Daniel sits at the bar and tries to make sense of the last few days.
He's a drug addict. He knows that. He generally loves being high, so it doesn't bother him to acknowledge it. Normally he doesn't black out and end up in crack dens, though. Normally he doesn't hallucinate a conversation with someone who thought he was a vampire.
Maybe it was a hallucination. Maybe it was real. All of it felt real, even with as high as he ended up getting. He's never felt as much pain as he did when Louis bit him, and he doesn't remember anything after that at all until he woke up on a stranger's lumpy couch already high as a kite.
The temptation to write about it is just as high as the aversion to writing about something that will inevitably make everyone think he's lost his mind. He's been staying away from his typewriter, because part of him wants to purge everything out onto the page, but he's afraid of having evidence of what might be insanity.
Maybe he should stop using.
What a joke.
He leans on the bar, sizes up some of the homophiles there to see who he can pick up and make a deal with, and sits up a little when someone takes a seat two stools away from him.
"I don't need anything yet, thank you." The man's voice is familiar as he dismisses the bartender, and Daniel tilts his gaze slightly to look at him. He's dark and slim, well-dressed, with an accent that's hard to place. The man just barely acknowledges Daniel, who doesn't know why he isn't looking away, before a pause settles between them and he speaks so only Daniel can hear. "Hello. Do you recognize me?"
Daniel considers the man. "No," he says. "Yes. Maybe." Is he drunk? Is that why he's fixating on this guy? "Where do I know you from?"
"We have a mutual friend." The man contemplates him openly. "My name is Armand."
"Daniel." Daniel extends a hand out to him, and they shake; Armand's hand feels strangely cool. "Someone around here? I've made a lot of friends around here."
Armand smiles faintly. "Exactly," he says. "I could be your friend."
Daniel knows what's being offered, and it's just what he needs, even though following this instinct is what got him in the imaginary situation of nearly dying by vampire bite. No one can really say Daniel Molloy learns his lesson; he's too young, too free to care about things like that. "Sounds great," he says, and smiles broadly. "If you're not gonna drink, you want to buy me one?"
Armand's smile changes fractionally, and Daniel experiences a surge of attraction to Armand that doesn't feel right, for some reason. Daniel's smile goes wry as Armand leans forward to catch the bartender's attention. Daniel orders his drink, pleased with himself as the night seems to be going in the right direction.
"Tell me." Armand is poised in a very interesting way; Daniel feels the sudden urge to interview him. He can bring it up later. "Daniel, do you fear death?"
"Wow, man. Heavy." Daniel laughs and nurses his drink. "Sometimes. I don't know. Recently, I don't know."
"What does that mean?" Armand watches him with his eyes stranger than Daniel noticed at first, too busy assessing the shape of him before. "Has something changed?"
Daniel looks into his drink. "Yeah. But I'm fine. Really. I'm good."
Armand tuts at him. "I do talk," he says, "but I would rather listen."
"I'd rather listen to you," Daniel blurts out, and feels warm as he can feel Armand's gaze on him. "I'm a journalist, I interview people on the ground, if you wanna go somewhere and talk, I promise I can find a good angle on you."
"I have no doubt." Armand's gaze moves to the drink in Daniel's hand. "Finish that, and we can have a conversation."
Daniel's smile tilts into relief, and he drinks gratefully in strange silence with Armand until the cocktail is gone. He sets the glass down, glances askance at Armand, and speaks with as much confidence as he can summon. "So where are we going?"
Armand stands. "You'll follow me?" he asks mildly.
"I mean, I walked here," Daniel says offhand. "Could you give me a lift?"
"Of course." Armand tilts his head as though to invite Daniel to follow him out of the bar, and they walk until they end up at a very slick-looking car. Between the clothes and the car, it's clear this guy has a lot of money. It feels promising. He climbs into the passenger seat, ready for some kind of adventure, and Armand drives in idle silence until they stop in front of an apartment building and he gets out, fully expecting Daniel to follow him. They walk up one flight of stairs, then Armand opens up one of the apartments and moves inside, Daniel two steps behind.
The door locks behind Daniel as he surveys the place. It doesn't seem to be the right kind of place for a guy with the kind of money he appears to have, but he lets it go for now and gets the tape recorder out of his bag to set it down on the kitchen table. "It's up to you where we start," he says, comfortable making implications to someone who might have taken him to a pad specifically meant for drugs and affairs, especially if he knows of Daniel through people at that specific bar. "What do you think?"
Armand observes him for half a moment that feels charged with tension, then pulls up a chair to the table. Daniel sits by the recorder and puts his finger on the record button. He has no idea what to expect. He has no good reason to do this besides some kind of intense instinct. Armand waits, and Daniel hits record, speaks first. "So tell me about yourself, Armand. Who are you, where are you from?"
That earns a very dry half-smile from Armand. "I'm from many places," he says. "That comes from a long lifetime."
Daniel is having a hard time parsing that. "How old are you, 25? 30? Did you move around a lot?"
Armand leans forward, bares a pair of fangs. Daniel completely freezes up. "Can you keep a secret?" he asks Daniel, something deliberate in his tone and gaze.
"No," Daniel says instinctively, then realizes what he's said and doubles back. "I mean, this can't be happening, I don't – " The confession drops out of his mouth heavy like gravity. "I don't want to be crazy."
It feels like Armand has him pinned with a single look. "Were you worth saving?" he asks. "Are you as shallow as you seem? Or could you do something for me?"
Daniel has absolutely no idea what to do, because part of him wants to run away while another part of him that's just as loud wants to hear every fucking word this man says. He has no choice. "What can I do?"
"Let's have a conversation." Armand sits back in the chair, very comfortable with himself, loose. "Are you scared of me, Daniel?"
"Yes." Daniel sees no point in lying, and no point in not asking. "Are you gonna kill me?"
Armand just barely smiles, a hint of fang visible, probably on purpose. "I didn't seek you out to kill you, no."
"Then why did you seek me out?" Daniel sits forward, more interested than his urge for self-preservation can hold him back. "Did Louis send you?"
Armand laughs at that. "No," he says. "I'm here to make a decision. I need to reflect. Louis had some very strong reflections in his time with you, so I thought I would make an attempt of my own."
Daniel absorbs that. "You do want an interview." Armand inclines his head, and Daniel focuses. "Right on, I'll ask you the same thing I asked him. How long have you been dead?"
Armand thinks about that. "438 years. That's my closest estimation. My youth in the 16th century was not exactly resplendent with calendars."
Daniel just stares for half a second too long. "You're over 400 years old."
"Yes," Armand says, unbothered by the attention. "I was born in Bangladesh, moved to Delhi as a child, was taken to Europe, and spent the remainder of my human life in what is now Italy. I spent centuries after that in France. As I said – 'where are you from' is a more complex answer for me than most might have."
"I'm from Modesto," Daniel says dryly. "Tell me your story. I want to hear."
Armand examines him to the point that his skin crawls, then speaks after a dead couple of seconds on the tape. "Do you really?"
Daniel wishes the answer were different, that he could make himself run away, but he's locked into position across from a dead man. "I really do," he says honestly.
Something flickers in Armand's strange eyes, and Daniel stares at him, caught. "I remember very little of my childhood," Armand says. "What I remember most from that time is the slavery, the brothel. I remember pain, and loneliness, and powerlessness." Daniel can barely breathe as he listens. He listens as Armand reveals pieces of himself while clearly still holding back, as he talks about the man he idolized yet seemed to hate treating him like a prized object to be shared, as he talks about watching his owner die and the orders to go to Paris.
Paris was a prison. Armand doesn't say it, but it's clear. Louis de Pointe du Lac felt like a key in the door, even as trouble rained down on their heads and awful decisions came to Armand's table.
"I had no choice," Armand says, with some fierceness to his tone, as Daniel recovers from the mental image of the real trial on an actor's stage. "Is that why he doesn't love me, Daniel? Am I forever tainted? Or is this what I'm meant to have: the scraps of love from a broken man who still loves a man who came before me?"
Daniel is just sober enough that he can trace this story. "No one deserves to feel like they're less than someone else," he says. "If someone doesn't love you, fuck 'em."
Armand's lips turn up in an extreme deadpan at the words. "'Fuck 'em'," he quotes.
It's funnier coming from him. "You shouldn't spend your life with someone who doesn't love you," Daniel says plainly. "If they love someone else. If that's what you needed to reflect on, that's it. Take it from the 20th century. Divorce is legal."
Armand lifts his chin, stands, and speaks casually. "Up." Daniel is suddenly on his feet, unsteady, unsure of what's happening, then Armand is very close to him, running a fingertip down his throat. He reaches over and hits stop on the tape without moving his gaze from Daniel even slightly. "What did you expect when I brought you here?" he asks.
Daniel is frozen in place, and it feels just uncomfortable enough that he can't relax. "Really?" he asks, unsure of copping to the truth right now.
"Really," Armand says, with two fingers under Daniel's chin that feel as though they're holding him up somehow.
"I thought you had drugs," Daniel says, tensed all the way down to his tone, his head aching. "I thought you wanted to fuck me." Armand has a smile flicker onto his face, then abruptly Daniel's head collapses to the left, revealing his throat to Armand. Daniel feels Armand wrap an arm around his waist to hold him up, then bites into his throat, which hurts so badly but pulses some heat through him as he feels Armand pressed up against him. Daniel wonders if this is how he'll die – in a way, deep down, he was sure he would die violently – then Armand lifts his head as Daniel's head spins.
"Do you want to fuck me?" Armand asks, a pulse of desire through the words that echoes the one in Daniel's body.
Daniel sees no point in lying, especially if it saves his ass right now. "I mean, yeah."
Armand strokes Daniel's cheek, then releases him to shakily stand on his own. "Come," he says, walks away from Daniel, and Daniel is still a little faint as he follows him to the bedroom. There's only the slightest pause as Armand undoes the scarf around his neck to set it aside on a vanity, then he looks up at Daniel expectantly. "Take what you want," he says, then he lifts his chin and Daniel is lifted off his feet and moved to be dropped directly in front of him. He cups Daniel's face, as though he knows for absolute certain that Daniel is starting to go a little fucking crazy at not being on top of him right now. "Or can you take control, Daniel?"
It's a taunt. It works. Daniel throws himself at Armand, kissing him, working on the buttons of his shirt; Armand's satisfaction comes off of him in waves as he helps Daniel out of his own clothes, and this whole encounter has a different feel to it from any of the many that Daniel's had in years of sexual activity. It feels as though Armand has a hand on a dial in Daniel's head to keep cranking his arousal up, and it's incredibly effective. They fumble into bed together, Daniel on top of Armand, as though he's in control of this at all. They both know who's in control right now, but for some reason Armand wants to play some kind of game as though Daniel isn't whacked out on whatever Armand is doing to him, isn't doing exactly what Armand wants.
Daniel makes bad decisions, but he's not actually stupid.
They kiss for a little while – more than Daniel's actually used to, he doesn't usually get sweet on the homophiles he picks up, if for no other reason than to tell himself that this is a side effect of drug-seeking rather than over half the reason he went out in the first place – then Armand puts a hand to Daniel's chest and Daniel shifts to his back instinctively. Armand runs a hand down his chest, then shifts down to suck his cock, which feels different when he's sober rather than flying high. It doesn't feel better or worse, just a lot harder to deny that a man is down there pleasuring him. Daniel runs his fingers into Armand's hair, tries not to think about what he's doing, that he's only had three drinks, no weed or coke or heroin, no excuses to be in a bed with a man and brimming with heat at what's maybe the most perfect blowjob he's ever gotten in his life.
Fuck. Even without being shown the fangs, Daniel would probably believe Armand had been alive for 400 years, because this feels like centuries' worth of practice in effect. He groans at some little trick of Armand's tongue, his mouth, and keeps toying with his hair, because he seems to be enjoying that. "Fuck, wow," he says, breathless, and tilts his head back. "Oh my god."
Armand makes a faint sound around his cock, then takes it one more time into his mouth to the back of his throat before he lifts his head. "Did you want me to make you come?" he asks, and Daniel stares stupidly down at him without a good answer before he makes the ultimate decision and climbs back up to kiss Daniel. Daniel kind of loses his mind and takes a handful of Armand's hair to hold him there, only to pin him down hard against the bed. Armand stares up at him as they break, a surprising amount of heat in his gaze, and Daniel flashes a wild smile as he snatches at the lotion sitting on the bedside table.
This is more than he ever engages mentally with this behavior, and it's overwhelming, but he doesn't stop because he doesn't want to stop, even though he doesn't want to want this. He fingers Armand, distracts himself from the visual that's getting him off more than it should by telling himself that Armand's doing something to his head to make him want this. It helps, and he lets go, because he's in the middle of this and in too deep to stop. Armand looks really good while squirming, and Daniel mouths off, because it feels like the right thing to do. "You want my cock? Say it."
Armand opens his eyes, and there's an odd kind of innocence to the look there. The word that leaps to Daniel's mind is beguiling. "I want it," he says. "Please."
Daniel is honestly so turned on it hurts. He takes his fingers out of Armand's ass, lotions up his cock and adds a bit for Armand's comfort, breathless again as he presses his cock inside of him, a solid grip in his hip and against his shoulder to pin him down. "Jesus," he says, the word escaping him in a rush, then he leans into Armand to bury his face in his hair as he fucks him. It's a good distraction, and he can allow himself to feel the delirium of the moment if he's just not fully there. Armand's making some truly excellent sounds right next to his ear, and Daniel doesn't even care if he's playing it up for effect, because it's hot, and pairs really great with the feeling of Armand wrapped around him just tightly enough. "You're so fucking hot," he whispers to Armand, clearly out of his mind if he's voicing this out loud.
"You want me," Armand says softly, and arches into him with a very intriguing groan escaping him.
"Fuck yes." Daniel kisses along his neck, worked up. "You want it hard?" He keeps his words soft against Armand's skin, not wanting to look into his face.
"Give me your best." There's some kind of vibration to his tone that makes a breath choke out of Daniel, as he starts to fuck Armand pointedly against the bed, not necessarily hard but harder. Armand rides back against him, something about the way he sounds giving Daniel the very real impression that he's holding back. Daniel takes that as a challenge, shoves Armand into a tighter position, and fucks him in the way he has to assume Armand believes he deserves. This is more work than Daniel puts in a lot of the time. Armand makes a deeply sexy sound as he takes all of Daniel's cock, then he shivers and comes against Daniel. Daniel moves to kiss him as he knows he hasn't got much left in him after how hot this entire thing has been, and buries his moan into Armand's mouth as he comes inside of him, his head pounding with the intensity of the moment.
"Wow," Daniel murmurs as they break, still close, and pulls back and out of Armand. He's startled as he looks down to see blood in between them.
Armand shrugs at him, and Daniel doesn't want to ask any more questions than he has to about some of this stuff. He cleans them both up as best he can with the tissues at the side of the bed, then dares to ask, "Shower?" He's a vampire, not the Wicked Witch of the West, a little water won't kill him, right?
"Yes." Armand looks at him, discerning. Daniel's mind races as he tries not to let self-loathing get to him, or the feeling that he's in way over his head in a world he shouldn't be involved in. Armand's mouth turns up just slightly, as though he's reading Daniel's face. "You never have to see me again if you don't want to, Daniel," he says.
Daniel's throat sticks. "I figured it'd be the other way around," he says. "Why would you want to see me?"
Armand's gaze picks him apart like a carrion bird with a corpse. "You intrigue me," he says. "You're so – " He pauses, visibly searching for the word. "Present."
"That's the way to live, man." Daniel stands, and helps Armand to his feet. "Let's clean up. Then, whatever. You got anything here? Booze? Something else?"
"I can get you high," Armand says, which is just such fucking great news on top of everything else that Daniel smiles brilliantly. Armand echoes the smile, very faintly. "I'll get you home before sunrise."
"Right on," Daniel says, so fucking into tonight. Maybe Armand will let him fuck him another time tonight. There's no point in not trying. "Lead the way."
Chapter 2
Notes:
1) Armand hunts, in his own way.
2) Daniel is still struggling with his internalized homophobia and other issues, and makes it everyone else's problem.
3) I will say this, Daniel does put up a fight, but he's pretty doomed.
Chapter Text
Less than a week passes after the encounter with Armand, and Daniel catches himself having stray thoughts of the guy in his mind. He almost thinks he's imagining things when he leaves his apartment building and he sees Armand outside casually smoking, but their eyes meet and he knows Armand's come for him again.
No matter what he said to Armand when he was fucked up and just came, this isn't how he does things. He doesn't see a man more than once. He's not even looking for a partner today, and he's got enough drugs at home to keep him satisfied. He draws close enough to speak to Armand, just to attempt his best rebuff. "Hey. You found me."
"Of course," Armand says, and leans up against the wall, apparently fully aware that he looks good. Daniel's too sober for this; he was just going out for groceries. "You didn't expect to see me again."
"Not really, no." Daniel doesn't care about being rude, even if this guy could kill him. "What do you want?"
"What do you want?" Armand smokes idly, and Daniel feels a tug in his stomach. "Did you really want to be left alone?"
"I'm used to being alone." Daniel knows this is a game, and he's going to at least try to win. "I like being alone."
Armand takes him in with his stare as he speaks, and answers with pointed precision. "I don't think that's true."
That's enough. Daniel stands his ground. "You pretend you know me. You met me once."
"I know who you are." Armand ashes his cigarette on the building and drops it to the ground. His strange eyes flick up to Daniel's face, reading him, taking him in. "Your parents ignored you. They were in a loveless marriage, had you to try to fix it, and it didn't work. You knew this. You sought attention and stimuli in any way you could find it, first in alcohol, then in harder, more intense forms." Daniel is frozen where he stands, uselessly angry at being so thoroughly seen. Armand tilts his head. "You haven't seen your parents in two years. You don't know what you would say to them. They don't like what you've become, and they don't even know how far down the rabbithole you've gone. Imagine what they'd say."
Daniel doesn't like this, and he doesn't know if he's locked in place from his own weakness or something Armand is doing. "Why are you here?" he asks.
Armand flashes a smile, no sign of fangs. "Always full of questions."
"I mean it. What do you want?" Daniel knows what's going to happen. He knows his attempt to get groceries is doomed. Armand came here with his mind set on something, and he won't leave until he's got it.
"Come upstairs with me," Armand says, very cool, very easy, but it feels like there's weight to it. "While this neighborhood is more forgiving than most, I think there might be a limit to their forgiveness."
Fuck's sake. Daniel gives in just enough, and heads back into the building with Armand trailing him. He lets Armand into the apartment, locks the door behind himself, and tosses his keys onto the table by the door. "Did you come here to kill me or fuck me?" he asks, a little sardonic as he turns back to face him.
"Why would I kill you?" Armand seems amused as he undoes the cuffs of his shirt. "If I had wanted to kill you, I would have."
"Answer the question." Daniel holds his ground. "Why are you here? What do you need from me?"
Armand doesn't hesitate. "I think you know."
Daniel walks towards him, the move as direct as he dares to get. "Then do it or leave."
In half a second, Daniel goes stiff, and Armand drifts him off of his feet to the couch. Instead of being deposited there, Armand forces him into a position of leaning against the back of the couch, and moves behind him to kiss along his neck and draw a shiver through him. "I had one overwhelming thought," he murmurs close to Daniel's ear. "I thought it might be worth a try." He undoes Daniel's belt and pants, pulling everything down, and drops down to a knee behind him. "Don't be afraid," he says, and Daniel has no idea if the feeling pouring down his back is dread, arousal, or some unholy mix of the two. He has maybe a second to contemplate that before Armand's hand touches his ass right before his fangs bite into it, and the pain is exquisite. He can't be getting a lot of blood from there, but that's probably not the point. Daniel doesn't know why he's getting hard, but he is, and his eyes close as he absorbs the pain of Armand's fangs deep into his flesh and his mouth wet against him.
Armand pulls back, Daniel is inexplicably hungry for him in a rush, and he runs a hand down Daniel's back before releasing him from the position to even barely relax. "You like pain," he says to Daniel, who has a dip in his stomach as he thinks about the kind of deviance he's getting up to with no excuses to justify it. As Daniel shifts to stand, his cock hard enough to be distracting to the whole conversation, Armand is idle with him. "You could explore this with me. No one needs to know."
"I'm not a homo." Daniel doesn't feel like this is a particularly good argument, given that a guy just got him hard without even touching his cock, but he has to say it. "You got what you wanted." He's starting to get the impression Armand's getting off the most from breaking him down; he gets stubborn, and gets his clothing back on, ignoring how hard he is. "Are we good?" he asks, with as much of an asshole flourish as he can manage to shove him away.
Armand is enjoying himself entirely too much. "What will you do if I leave?"
"What is it with you?" Daniel has to push back, or Armand will run him over completely. "Am I a toy to you? Is that what this is? Why won't you talk to me?"
Armand is very suddenly in his face, his hand slipping around the back of his neck, and draws him in for a kiss. Daniel goes still, but Armand kisses him again, and Daniel's still thrumming from the arousal from the bite, so he leans into the second kiss even though his head is screaming to get the fuck away.
It's the single domino to tip over the rest of Daniel's willpower. They kiss as Armand backs them down the hallway to the bedroom. Daniel hates himself as he takes off his clothes, as he bends Armand over and fucks him, as Armand leans into him and makes all the sounds he doesn't want to think about wanting to hear from a man. It doesn't matter. Armand feels incredible around him, and it's hard to pretend someone else is underneath him. He makes Armand come with a gasp, and doesn't last much longer than that, pulling out to jerk his cock and come over Armand's ass. He cleans him up, watches as Armand cleans up the blood he's left, and collapses in the bed a defeated man.
Armand gives him a few minutes to just breathe and desperately try not to think about what really just happened, then he says, "If you're amenable, I'd like to try something else."
Daniel looks over at him in disbelief. "Like what?"
"I think you'll enjoy yourself," Armand says, with a tinge of pleasure to his voice. He's having a good day. Good for him.
In the end, Armand ends up biting him all over – his shoulders, his chest, his side, his thigh, and Daniel nearly fucking comes by the end of it. Armand does him the favor of sucking his cock until he does come, at least, and Daniel stares ahead at the end of the bed as he recovers.
Armand touches his shoulder, his fingertips drifting down Daniel's arm. "Will you still fight me?" he asks. "Or will you have me?"
"I don't know." Daniel hates himself. "Will you leave me alone?"
"You don't want me to leave you alone," Armand says softly, and Daniel wishes that didn't feel true.
When Armand leaves him, they part with a kiss, Daniel's heartbeat scattering as he wills all of this to be even half as powerful as it is.
He knows how to deal with this.
Daniel goes to a disco that's walking distance from his place, gets so fucked up he can't remember the name of the Bond film he'd only just seen when he's trying to talk about it with someone at the bar, and ends up picking up a girl around his own age who's just on the right edge of drunk enough to actually fuck without feeling like a total asshole. Tonight feels important. She's got to be awake enough to appreciate it, so he can prove to himself that he's not a homo.
It's not enough to just stick it in there. He has to prove he enjoys this.
They go back to his place, and he gets her on her back in the same bed where he fucked Armand, touching her until she moans, enjoying how slick she gets around his fingers as he thrusts them into her. He gets hard enough to fuck as she rides against his hand, then he yanks his hand away and hurriedly puts the condom on before he can think too hard about why he's doing this.
He fucks her against the headboard, and she drunkenly leans into the moment, not fully there, but present enough that it's fine. He leans down in a rush of insane inspiration and kisses along her throat, making a sound escape her, only for him to bite into the sensitive skin there with more emphasis than he maybe should have.
"Ow," she blurts out, and pushes at him.
"What?" He pulls back just slightly, not pulling out of her. "I mean, sorry, I guess."
Her gaze is accusatory. "Are you serious?"
He doubles down, because that's just the way he is, especially when he's high. "Don't be a square."
"Fuck off. Get off of me." She pushes at him again, then he pulls out of her and rolls his eyes at her. "You're an asshole," she says to him, pulling her clothes on with emphasis.
Daniel gets rid of his condom and ignores her as she leaves. It's starting to sink in what happened, and he doesn't like it.
It doesn't matter. He proved his point. Maybe now he'll be able to hold out against Armand whenever he comes around next. There's probably no way of getting away from him, so it's just a question of being able to say no.
He jerks off, and comes with the thought of Armand's mouth wrapped around his cock, a rush of self-loathing overtaking him as he comes down.
"Fuck," Daniel says to the world, helpless.
It has not been a good night.
Daniel walks to the bar while smoking a cigarette and halfway to high enough when he sees just the shape of him leaned up against an apartment building, a cigarette held languidly in his own hand. He stops before he can cross in front of him, debates crossing the street, a little pissed off that he doesn't seem to be able to shake Armand. The problem is that he feels Armand looking at him, and he instinctively wants to be an asshole. He walks towards him, ashes his cigarette out on the wall nearby him, and looks him in the face. "So, what?" he asks, casual and confrontational in one burst of energy.
"What?" Armand asks, gesturing with his cigarette. "Is something bothering you?"
This guy is a pain in the ass. He's had over 450 years of practice. "Fuck you, maybe," he suggests.
Armand seems immensely amused. "What have I done?"
There's no way to argue this without seeming insane and narcissistic. "If you're gonna fuck with me, at least get me high," Daniel says, and Armand looks at him as though he's drinking him in. Daniel strides past Armand, an open challenge, and he can feel Armand only a few steps behind him as they go into the bar. They waste no time at the bar itself, headed to a table in the back with few prying eyes, and Armand produces some coke, tipping it onto the table only for Daniel to use his ID to cut it into a line. He's prepared, so he snorts the line, in a much better mood very quickly. "Explain to me," he says to Armand. "Why me? You could have anyone here."
Armand runs a fingertip along the grain of the table. "I know," he says. "I've been asking myself that very question."
That's not a satisfactory answer, and Daniel leans forward. "It must be lonely," he says. "A life like yours, all alone. Is that all it is?"
Armand's caught by the question. "I wasn't alone," he says. "Not until recently." Daniel doesn't want to be interested, but it's hard not to listen to him talk. "Have you ever loved someone more than they loved you?" Armand asks him, his gaze intent.
Daniel doesn't have to think about that question at all. "Not really."
It turns a smile up the corners of Armand's lips. "Of course."
"You seem to think you know who I am," Daniel says, and wishes he had his tape recorder with him. He'll have to hope to remember this, or let it die as a normal conversation. "Didn't you already know that?"
"I did." Armand reaches over a few inches and runs a fingertip down the top of Daniel's hand; Daniel's gaze follows the motion, his heartbeat pounding a little faster, especially knowing that Armand must know the reaction he's having. "Do you think you could ever love someone, Daniel?"
Daniel is probably always going to be on the ropes in his conversations with Armand. "It's not that I've never loved anyone. It's that I've never loved anyone – that much – " He gestures. "They always want something I can't give them. So, fuck it, you know?"
"It must be lonely," Armand echoes. "You, a tape recorder, and lone encounters."
"I'm 20," Daniel says, unbothered. "I'm not supposed to be married yet."
"Still." Armand turns his hand over and runs his fingertip down Daniel's wrist; Daniel's pulse leaps at the contact. "Don't bother to tell me that you're happy."
Daniel stares daggers at him. He knows what's happening. "Get out of my head."
Very suddenly, he can hear Armand's voice in his head as he stares into his eyes. You don't want me to go. He wants to push back, but he feels himself leaning into Armand's touch. You could take a walk with me.
Daniel stands, pulls his wrist out of Armand's light grip, and can't think anywhere close to straight. "Where are we going?" he asks.
Armand stands and lightly takes Daniel by the wrist in the direction of the bathrooms. Daniel of course can't pretend that he's never fooled around in these bathrooms before, but usually there's been a lot more prelude to it. Something about Armand's silky voice in his head has dragged him under, and Armand pulls Daniel against him to purposely get Daniel to pin him against the wall, holding him firm as he kisses him until everything starts to blur out in favor of touching him, wanting him.
Daniel pulls back, his head spinning, then Armand's mouth grazes against his throat and Daniel wishes he didn't want what's about to happen. Armand's fangs sink into him, and he groans, wildly hoping no one walks in on this, shocked at how hard he gets as Armand drinks from him. Armand lifts his head, licks his throat, and stays close. "I want to take care of you," he says in an undertone. "Let me."
It's hard to parse after what just happened. "Great, man," Daniel says. "I just want to fuck you tonight."
Armand laughs against his ear, and it's honestly kind of unbearably sexy. "Then you'd better hurry up."
Daniel drags him into the stall and gets both their pants down, spreading his legs without any kind of sweet contact. He grabs his ass and spits on his fingers, spreads him open, gets his fingers inside of him for just long enough to do anything. Once Armand's even remotely ready, Daniel rubs some spit over the tip of his cock, and shoves Armand purposely against the wall of the stall as he presses his cock inside of his ass. He can feel Armand inside of his head as he fucks him, seizes him by the hair, incredibly fucking turned on by knowing anyone could walk in on this at any time. It's very different from their last time, heated in a completely new way, and Daniel kind of enjoys seeing Armand humbled as he's crammed at an angle in the stall, taking each thrust. Maybe he's choosing to be humbled. It doesn't change how satisfying it is.
Tell me you don't love this, Daniel. Armand's voice is clear in his head. Tell me that she was so much better than this.
Daniel grits himself and fucks Armand harder, but it doesn't stop him from speaking into Daniel's mind. You are what you are. There's no point in pretending you don't want what you want.
"Fuck you," Daniel says, overwhelmed, and Armand rides back against him before he comes with a stifled sound of pleasure. Daniel yanks his hair and comes seconds later, leaning heavily against Armand as he recovers. "Oh my god," he mumbles into his shoulder.
"What do you think?" Armand asks, sounding immensely turned on even after he came.
Daniel pulls back and out of him, lets him pull himself together, and they're trapped in the stall together as Armand shifts back to face him. Armand looks at him, his gaze discerning, and Daniel feels the drugs, the sex, the feeling of Armand in his head all fuel him into a new kind of high. "I think you're not gonna leave me alone," he says.
Armand smiles. "Why should I?" he asks.
Daniel is so fucked. There's almost no point in fighting back. He won't make it easy for Armand, maybe, but you can't box a glacier. Armand is too powerful, too hot, to deny.
"Fine," Daniel says, and Armand leans in to kiss him on the mouth, a lingering, perfect sort of touch after what they just did.
They drink the rest of the night, Daniel does some more coke, then they walk back to Daniel's to fall into bed, Daniel pinning Armand down by the wrists as he fucks him until the look in his eyes glazes over with arousal. It feels good to fuck someone this eternal into a nonsensical state. He feels like a god.
Armand leaves after another cigarette, kisses him goodbye, and doesn't have to promise he'll be back.
Daniel might have to get used to this, because Armand isn't walking away, and it's not looking like he's powerful enough to say no. He stares after Armand as he leaves, and purposely lights a cigarette to try to distract himself from what he's just done.
Chapter 3
Notes:
1) A little bit of background for Daniel this chapter.
2) An antiquated term in this chapter, but it's not in insulting terms and it's the word he'd probably use in 1973, tbh. If you know, you know.
3) Even as he has the urge to push back, Daniel just keeps giving in.
4) Daniel makes a real life decision here.
5) It's really fun writing Armand from an angle like this!
Chapter Text
Daniel is at his typewriter when his phone rings, and he goes to it to answer, pretty amenable to being called after giving his number out to enough people to try to make contacts. "Daniel," he answers.
"Hello, Dan." It's his father. Daniel's posture tenses at the sound of his voice. "It's been a while."
"Yeah, sure has," Daniel says, his gaze aimed at the ground as though his dad is right there in the room looking at him. "How's Mom?"
"She's well, thank you." His father barely pauses. "Your mother was reminded of you the other night. It troubled her that we haven't heard from you."
"Yeah, I've – I've kind of been just, I don't know, around." Daniel's struggling to make sense while facing this nightmare scenario. It could only be worse if he was actually there. "Still writing, getting things published."
"Really." His father's voice dips at the sound of that. "Where?"
Daniel isn't interested in getting into specifics. "Places. Look, I'm doing all right – "
His father cuts him off brutally. "Someone saw you." Daniel goes stiff and just listens as his father goes on. "She said you looked unwell, unfocused."
"I am very focused," Daniel says, unable to shut himself up. "Nothing matters to me more than starting my career."
"She said you looked skinny," his father says, blatantly pushing past that. "Have you been eating? Do you need money?"
"Oh my god." Daniel swipes a hand over his face. "I'm not starving. I don't need charity. I've got this. Let me figure it out."
His father goes terse. "We'd like for you to be your own man. We just heard you weren't doing a very good job at it."
"Right on, okay," Daniel says acidly. "I'm turning in a piece today to a paper you'll never fucking read because you can't wrap your head around anything that isn't co-signed by Nixon, I'll get a nice paycheck that'll pay for my food and rent, and you won't have to worry about me, no matter what you hear."
"Daniel." His father can't hide his disapproval. "You've had enough time being bohemian in the streets of that terrible city, come home, we can get you a good job that can pay for you, a wife, some kids – "
Daniel hangs up on his father with emphasis, goes back to his typewriter, and thankfully remembers the sentence he left off on, the conclusion to an interview with a transvestite he's come to know over the last few months.
Identity is like a river. It can stay the same for years, decades, but sometimes nature can change its course and make you rethink everything you know about yourself. Now is the time for all of us to ask ourselves the hard questions. The Summer of Love opened a decade of exploration. It's our duty as humans to open ourselves up to possibilities. Don't be afraid. The world is beautiful.
It's the kind of thing the Berkeley Barb will eat up. It's spicy, provocative, but heartfelt. He's going to make enough to get him through the next six weeks if he budgets his money right. He pulls the paper from the typewriter and goes over what he's already written, finds it good enough, shoves it into a folder and under his jacket as he makes the long walk to the Berkeley Barb's office.
He flirts with the office girl the way he always does – her name is Carol, and she doesn't hide that she thinks he's charming and intelligent – but withdraws once the article is submitted, because it feels like an inevitability is coming to his doorstep.
For all he wrote about identity, there's still a lot Daniel's dealing with on his own. Armand drops into his life every few days, but Daniel can't shake the idea that Armand's never really that far away. The questions come along with the thought of Armand: whether what you are is determined by what you choose to be rather than what you do, whether or not how other people perceive you is what you really are, just how powerful it is to say I am versus the irrevocable draw of I want.
The call from his father is just a kick in the ribs while he's down. It's been three weeks since that first night with Armand, and it stings Daniel every time that the doubts start to arise. Armand wears this little knowing smile at least once every time they meet, as though he's read Daniel's mind to know the resentments and self-loathing that come to him when Armand kisses him with such pure confidence. It wouldn't surprise him to find out that Armand's tuned into him like a radio, listening to his favorite station play out the sound of someone struggling with something Armand came to terms with centuries ago.
It's probably downright charming to him. Daniel bristles. He doesn't mind fucking Armand. It hasn't gotten old yet. What he does mind is the prospect of becoming one of the many queers walking around San Francisco wearing the lifestyle on his sleeve. He doesn't hate them or disrespect them, of course, but he isn't one of them, even if he is fucking a man on the regular.
It sounds absurd even inside of his head.
As he comes back to his apartment building, he sees Armand in casual conversation with someone right outside, gesturing with his cigarette. He approaches, and Armand breaks off mid-sentence at his closeness. "Thank you, Salvatore," he says, touches the man's shoulder, sending him off with that much. He looks back at Daniel and wears a satisfied smile. "It's not too early, is it?"
Daniel knows it's all a game. He knows Armand can reach into his mind and pull out anything he wants without any effort. He knows Armand knows he wants him at the very sight of him looking slim, tall, in a perfectly starched and pure white shirt with a pair of pants that are just loose enough to get off of him without difficulty. Armand looks respectable, and that just makes Daniel want to wreck him.
How much of this is Armand fucking with his head, he may never know.
"No," Daniel says simply, and goes upstairs, Armand just one pace behind. They enter his apartment, Daniel has the usual fleeting thought that Armand probably thinks he lives in squalor, and Armand approaches Daniel to stroke a hand against his face. Daniel stares at him, something glittering inside of him. "You must feel like a god," he says. "With something tiny, that you could squish out of existence. Like an ant."
"Not exactly," Armand says, and slips his hand under Daniel's chin to lock his gaze to his. "You're much more interesting than an ant."
"Am I." Daniel is very dry with him. "What's so interesting?"
Armand looks like he very much wants to kiss him. "I very nearly lost faith in everything a few weeks ago," he says. "In myself, in everything I had built, in the people I cared about. I had forgotten who I was in the face of who someone else had made me become."
Daniel supposes he can relate to that. "Who's powerful enough to make you do that?" he asks wryly.
"Louis de Pointe du Lac," Armand says, and Daniel stiffens at the name, the memory. "Yes," he says softly to Daniel. "I saved you from him. I had to make it so you wouldn't remember, thinking I would never hope to see you again."
This is still a mindfuck. "But you found me. On purpose. Right?"
Armand still hasn't withdrawn his touch. "Yes. I wanted to see what I could glean from what happened with your help."
Daniel cracks a smile. "And if I hadn't helped, what, would you have drained me and dumped me in the Bay?"
Armand doesn't answer that. "I was able to turn the mirror away from him and back towards myself, because of you," he says. "Now, this – " He leans in close, less than an inch away from a kiss. "This is just entertaining."
Daniel hates this, and wishes he had a good reason why. "Right on, we're users, using each other," he says. "Did you want to fuck, or…"
His behavior is obviously wearing on Armand. "Did you want a commitment, Daniel? Or what's the problem?"
That gets a laugh out of Daniel. "Why would I want a commitment out of you?"
Armand kisses him, eggs him into kissing him a second time, then their kisses go hungry, Daniel fumbling Armand back against the kitchen table with a hand stroked over Armand's cock. Armand makes a pleased sound and tilts his head back, the very start of a laugh escaping his throat. "You enjoy this," he says. "I want to hear it from you."
Daniel had really been hoping to get to the fuck before more mindfuck. "Of course I – " No, this feels like a trap. "Please, for the love of God, shut up," he says, even though it's a really stupid idea to say to someone who could rip your throat out.
"There's nothing wrong with it, Daniel." Armand looks into his face, and he's honestly fucking beautiful. It's enough to drive Daniel crazy. "Forget what you've been told."
"I want you to bite me." Daniel is out with it, so they can get past this. "I want to taste my blood on your mouth."
Armand visibly measures the moment, then surrenders, pressing Daniel back a step and taking a handful of his hair to tilt his head to the side. "I'll get it out of you," he says, then his fangs penetrate his throat, wracking Daniel with pain that makes his head go light and his cock start to harden. He drinks, Daniel stays frozen in his grip, then once he pulls back he kisses Daniel as though he can't bear the thought of a second without the contact. Daniel tastes his own blood, and he sickens himself as he gets hard against Armand's incredible body.
"Just like that," Daniel whispers as they break, and Armand flashes a smile with blood still on his mouth.
They fuck, and Armand groans out his name, rides back against him, wants him as he feels so fucking good Daniel could die.
"Make me believe it," Daniel says, mean with it, doesn't care, and Armand at least pretends to stop holding back.
Daniel may never be able to let go. Maybe one day Armand will get that.
It's about one AM when Daniel wanders out from his bedroom to get the guy he picked up a glass of water, and he absently looks in the refrigerator for something small to eat for an energy boost. What he wasn't expecting was for the fridge to be full, with fresh food and prepared dishes in glassware. He stares at the truly ridiculous amount of food that he knows he didn't put there, shuts the fridge, and opens up the cabinets to find even more food. He shuts the cabinets, sets his jaw, and gets the glasses of water as he fumes.
There's only one person who would intervene with his life like this, and Daniel has never asked him for help or money, not once.
Armand is in the hallway by his apartment when he ascends the stairs the next day, and he stares at Armand before he goes to unlock the apartment and let them both in. He locks the door behind them, tosses the keys aside, focuses on the minutiae so he can put off the inevitable fight even a few seconds longer. He hates fighting; he doesn't like who he becomes in a conflict. "You didn't have to get me food," he says levelly.
"I know," Armand says, clearly not denying it. "You were withering away. I understand that the cocaine makes food seem like less of a priority, but you'll do better if you eat real food."
"How would you know?" Daniel asks, the sarcasm bleeding in. "You probably haven't eaten real food in centuries."
Armand ignores that and considers him. "You'll do it," he says. "Your body craves it. Now that you know it's there, I know you'll eat it."
Daniel can't hide his frustration. "Don't tell me what to do."
"Come." Armand freezes him up, lifts him off his feet, and deposits him on a chair at the kitchen table. He leaves Daniel there, goes into the kitchen, opens the fridge, and takes his time before he comes back with two plates and silverware, and another two after that. It takes this long for Daniel to realize just how good this food looks – it's definitely better than anything he can make himself, or find at any of the restaurants he can afford. He looks down at it, and Armand speaks into his mind. You're hungry. Aren't you?
Daniel picks up the fork absently, doesn't look Armand's way, and starts to eat. Armand takes a seat, lights a cigarette, contemplating Daniel as he eats. "What's it like?" Daniel asks him, between bites. "Blood."
"It's the essence of life," Armand says, and takes a drag off his cigarette. "It's power."
For the first time, Daniel envies Armand, but shoves the urge away as he tries to finish all of the food in front of him. It's not as though he can't put all of this away – he's 20, he could eat six courses without a problem – but there's an aversion to doing what he's told that's making him itch. He has no idea how much he's being influenced to do this, or if it's just his own desire to make Armand happy.
"What is this?" Daniel asks after a pause, settling back in his chair. "Why are you taking care of me?"
Armand thinks about it. "I want to see you live," he says. "That means you have to take care of yourself."
Daniel manages to stifle a sigh, and starts on the last plate. "Did it ever occur to you that I might be happy as I am?" he asks.
"It's not good enough," Armand says, matter-of-fact. "Now, I would ask you one thing." Daniel looks up at him, eating, prompting him to go on; Armand concedes the moment and completes his thought. "Neither of us will see other men or women over the course of this engagement. What do you think of that?"
Daniel lifts his head in disbelief, finishes his bite, and stares at Armand. "You're trying to lock me down?"
Armand contemplates that. "I suppose so," he says. "Would that be so bad?"
Daniel sets his fork down and really looks at Armand, who is smooth and flawless and definitely lying to him somehow. "Why would I agree to that?"
"Because you want to keep me." Armand lifts his chin, and Daniel can't stop looking at him. He wants him so badly, and he doesn't know how much of this is real or a game that Armand is playing. Armand smiles faintly. "Would you be ready to let me walk out that door forever, Daniel?"
"Why me?" Daniel asks abruptly. "Why are you chasing me?"
"I want to see the depths inside of you," Armand says, stands, moves so that he can tilt Daniel's chin up to look him in the face. "I want you to want me the way I want you."
"And you'll do anything," Daniel says, staring into his face. "Won't you?"
Armand sighs, cupping his cheek. "It's not so villainous. I want company. I know you're lonely, whether you'll admit it out loud or not, and you've grown used to it. Eventually you'll be happy to have someone at your side."
Daniel wants him, in a devastating rush. "Yeah," he says. "Right on, fine. Go ahead."
Armand's smile widens just slightly, then he kisses Daniel twice, two very good and solid kisses, before patting his cheek and withdrawing. "Clear your place," he says, and Daniel is very suddenly on his feet. "If you want me tonight, I'm yours."
Fuck, Daniel has to worry about dishes right now? He scrambles to get them out of the way, and walks up to Armand only to seize him close by the small of the back and kiss him, his hand in his long hair, so close it makes him ache. They kiss like that, heated and full of need, for a long pause, then Daniel steers Armand backwards to the bedroom, kissing him most of the way. They get their clothes off, Daniel fumbling and Armand's movements crisp, then fall into bed together, Daniel on top of Armand and hungry for him in so many ways.
"Prove you're worth my time," Daniel says, a bite in his tone, and Armand stares at him in a kind of awe before he guides Daniel to his back to suck his cock so well that it makes it hard for Daniel to even think about what they're doing here. He runs his fingers into Armand's hair, rides out the feeling of Armand's mouth around his cock, arches his cock deeper into Armand's mouth. Armand moans around his cock, and Daniel feels a jab of arousal. "Fuck me," he says, astonished.
Armand looks up at him, still sucking his cock, and the visual is almost too much to handle. Daniel closes his eyes, eventually breathing out and saying it. "That's enough. Get to your side." Armand shifts to his side, and Daniel hates himself, loves this feeling, so confused. He gets his lotion, spreads Armand open, his thighs apart, and pushes a finger, stretches him out, another finger, exploring him – Armand lies there, steady but maybe flushed. Daniel feels like he's done enough, and he pulls his fingers out of Armand's ass, lotioning up his ass and his own cock to finally press inside of him.
As he fucks Armand, the stray thought crosses his mind: Do you need more than this? He takes a handful of Armand's hair and pulls back on it as he thrusts inside of him, unable to answer that question. It feels so good to be inside of him, to take him, to want him. It feels wrong, as though he's missing some vital piece of the puzzle. More self-loathing, maybe. This is everything he wouldn't want his parents to know about.
"Are you happy, Daniel?" Armand murmurs, just loudly enough for him to hear.
"I don't know." It's the truth. He fucks him harder to make him shut up. It's effective; Armand melts down into some really attractive moans at the treatment. They last for a while before Daniel knows he doesn't have unlimited self-control and spits into his hand to work Armand's cock from the side.
"Daniel," Armand says, sounding overwhelmed and very much unlike himself. Daniel fucks him into incoherence after that, and Armand comes with a moan, Daniel coming a few seconds later with a shiver. They lie there, caught up in the moment and messy, then Armand reaches for tissues to clear his own mess and the moment threatens to break. "I have something to ask of you," Armand says, ending the silence between them. "I need you to trust me."
It's a tall order. "What are you asking me to do?" Daniel asks, pulling out and away from him.
Armand shifts to be with him, touches his chest. "Join me. Explore the world. Meet new people."
Daniel is having a hard time reading between the lines, mostly because he just came hard. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see," Armand says, and toys with a curl of his hair. "Will you come with me?"
For some reason, he realizes he doesn't want to say no. He doesn't want to walk away from this. He wants, craves this strange man and all of his quirks. He has passing thoughts of him, pushes away hopes that he'll come back to see him. He looks Armand in the face, and decides to mean it. "When do we leave?"
Armand runs his fingers into Daniel's hair and kisses him sweetly in answer. He'll find out soon enough. Daniel just has to trust the vampire Armand.
That's not easy, but this is what he wants, so it'll have to do.
Over the course of a week, Daniel sees Armand once, and gets the mild order to pack up all of his things to be picked up at a very specific time in the morning. He isn't sure why he doesn't say no. He's getting an idea of what he's said yes to, and he's honestly fucking scared to have doubts because Armand will be able to read them in his mind. There's no point in pretending, though, and when the morning comes and the movers take all of Daniel's boxes away to leave his apartment stripped, he takes some quaaludes, sits at the window, and waits for Armand to come to pick him up. When the car pulls up, he goes downstairs with his suitcase, leaves the keys with his landlady, and walks towards the car, sweating. He puts his suitcase in the trunk and climbs into the passenger seat, stealing a glance at Armand. "Hey," he says rapidly.
Armand's lips turn up just slightly at the sight of him. "There's nothing to worry about," he says, and Daniel watches his apartment building vanish behind him as they pull away. "There's nothing simpler than this. You'll see."
"Tell me." Daniel shifts to face him completely. "It's been a month. You're trying to move in with me. Why?"
Armand almost laughs, but Daniel's not amused, and he can tell, pivoting the moment. "I think you're exactly what I was looking for," he says. "When we're finished, I can place you somewhere just as comfortable as where you were, if not more comfortable. Don't worry about that."
Daniel scoffs. "Yeah, when we're finished? What's the expiration date on this?"
"I'll know it when I see it," Armand says, his eyes on the road.
"Are you allergic to giving straight answers?" Daniel asks, not particularly caring about being an asshole to an ancient being at a time like this. "Do you know, or are you fucking winging it?"
"I suppose I am. Winging it." Armand drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "Don't feel threatened. I know one day you will outgrow what I have to offer and we can part as friends."
Daniel boggles at him. "What does that even mean?"
Armand grips into the steering wheel and relaxes in one short pause. "I'd like to travel with you," he says. "In the times between, I'd like you to stay with me at one of my properties. We'll be traveling there today. It'll be a long flight."
Daniel has a feeling creeping up on him, though. "How much of this is you running from Louis de Pointe du Lac?"
Armand visibly doesn't appreciate hearing the name, and doesn't answer for a second. "I am trying to reinvent myself after a long time of serving a purpose to someone," he says. "I hope you can understand that, and – " He tilts his head. "And help me." He doesn't seem to be used to saying the words. "If you have any affection for me after all of this time, I'd hope you would try."
Daniel feels weird about the word 'affection,' but to say he feels nothing when he's with Armand would be a lie. "How much of my 'affection' did you plant in my head?" he asks.
Armand steals a glance at him. "Much less than you would like to think," he says. "I've said, you haven't realized your own loneliness, and you're more relieved to have company than you may ever be willing to admit."
Daniel frowns, shifts back against the seat, and thinks. "I don't like the mindfuck," he says plainly. "I don't like not knowing what's going on in my own head."
"All right." Armand is at least pretending to listen. "I'm used to hunting, Daniel. Some instincts are hard to turn off."
That throws Daniel. "What, so this is how you eat people?" Armand doesn't bother hiding a strange little smile at that, and Daniel presses. "You mindfuck them into, what – "
"An easeful death," Armand says, clearly self-satisfied. "I find it more satisfying than something violent and nonconsensual." Daniel just looks at him, and Armand shrugs at him. "All humans secretly wish to die," he says. "I merely give them the freedom to say yes."
"I don't know how true that is," Daniel says, but he's not trying to find a way out of this, even though this is a new, wild mindfuck. "I've talked to a lot of humans and most of them really don't want to die."
Armand shakes his head at Daniel. "Life is grim," he says. "Life is pale and beige and has no true upward trend. Even fame has its downsides. Even wealth and power. You all realize, with help, that none of it has any real meaning besides that which you try to impose on it. That it's empty."
Daniel absorbs that. "Heavy." He shakes it off. "You're not just rejecting existentialism, you're rejecting all meaning, man, that's wild."
"Meaning is a construct we impose onto random events," Armand says, with the confidence of centuries behind it. "Love is a constant effort to believe that someone means what they say."
Daniel doesn't think he can argue with that. "I'm not good at love," he says. "I don't make people happy. They don't trust me."
Armand doesn't look at him. "Maybe you need someone who knows exactly who you are and doesn't judge."
"Sure." Daniel laughs. "Dream girl. The second our vacation's over, I'll track her down."
"Daniel." Armand has the hint of a sigh in his voice. "Have you not learned your lesson about women?"
Daniel stares ahead at the red traffic light in front of them. "What lesson?" he asks, warning in his tone.
Armand has a hint of a dry smile in his voice, though Daniel doesn't look at him. "I'm not saying you're a homophile. I want to make that clear. I'm saying that you don't regard women very highly and can relax in the company of men. It's easier for you. It will be even easier when you admit the truth of it."
Daniel hates this, vividly, down to his soul. "Did you read this in my mind?"
"It's fairly obvious from the way you behave," Armand says swiftly, "but, yes, I did glean pieces of this from your mind."
"Tell me about it," Daniel says, loathing himself. "Tell me what I am."
Armand doesn't hesitate. "You have a splinter of cold in you. It comes out around women, especially. There is a hole inside of you, a void, that you can never fill, but you take drugs and play games with men to try to fill it anyway. You do your interviews and write your stories so that you don't feel useless, the way your parents make you feel. You're a bright young reporter with a point of view. You'll be somebody someday." He pauses, as Daniel is sick to his stomach. "Do you really believe that? That you'll succeed? Or will you collapse at your parents' doorstep, and fall into suburban lockstep?"
Daniel pulls himself together. "I know I can write. I know that's what I am."
Armand nearly sounds pleased. "I'll give you some experiences," he says. "Maybe they'll open your eyes to new horizons, new things to write about. I think that would be good for you."
"Why do you care about me?" Daniel asks, combative. "Why help me? Or is this all for you?"
"I want you," Armand says, and pulls into the airport, parking in the silence between them. They have a pause where neither of them moves, then Armand says, "Come, the flight is waiting."
Daniel gets out of the car, gets his suitcase from the back, and follows Armand through the airport to their flight. They sit beside each other on the flight to Florida, and Daniel gets antsy. This is the furthest away from home he'll have ever gone. He has a feeling he'll go even further soon. "Everything is fine," Armand says, his tone soothing, and Daniel closes his eyes and tips his head back.
He falls asleep on the long flight. Armand wakes him as the plane is about to land, and they disembark, gather their things, take a towncar to wherever Armand wants to go. Daniel eventually speaks up. "Tell me where we're going. I deserve to know."
"We'll be taking a boat from the marina to the island I own in the Keys," Armand says calmly. "That will be home. When we're ready, we'll travel from there."
"An island." Daniel takes that in. "Yeah, right on. You own a fucking island?"
Armand smiles. "My goal is to be an anonymous millionaire in a world full of inequities," he says. "No flash. No fame. I have withdrawn to this place before."
Daniel can't hold back the obvious question. "With Louis?"
Armand just barely hesitates. "Yes, with Louis. We were together for nearly 30 years."
"But now you're not." Daniel contemplates him. "Because of his feelings for Lestat?"
"In part." Armand clearly isn't thrilled with this conversation, but Daniel is too used to pushing people's buttons. "In part, we were no longer a good fit."
Daniel leans into it. "What does it feel like, to lose an immortal companion?"
Armand's gaze is distant. "I do everything I can to forget him."
Daniel touches Armand's hand, takes it in his own. Armand's gaze flicks over to him; Daniel smiles as charmingly as he can. "I can distract you," he says, but for the first time wonders why he's traveled so many miles with someone he barely knows. Maybe it's because he's been promised the world, and so far Armand hasn't actually given him reason to doubt him. Something flickers behind Armand's strange eyes, and Daniel leans in to kiss him, a brief, perfect contact.
Armand withdraws just slightly after Daniel feels a surge of attraction. "We should arrive at the marina soon," he says, which isn't an answer to anything he said, but is fine. Daniel minds his own business, but still holds onto Armand's hand. They make it to the marina, leave on a boat across the Atlantic, and Daniel can't get over how beautiful the ocean is even though he grew up visiting the Pacific. It never gets old, no matter which side of the continent he's on.
"Charming," Armand murmurs under his breath, and Daniel flashes a very real smile in his direction.
The island is the biggest display of wealth Daniel's ever seen from Armand. There's a huge mansion visible up the hill, its lights beautiful in the dark, and the beach is fucking perfect. They climb into a golf cart once they reach the paved part of the island, and wind their way up the hill to the mansion. Daniel is honestly stunned silent the entire way, which is a trick. Armand walks up to the mansion without any of the swagger you'd expect from a millionaire, as though it's the simplest thing in the world to approach this massively extravagant thing that you own, and opens the door. He beckons for Daniel to follow him inside, and he does, his heart in his throat as he realizes what he's actually agreed to.
"Holy shit," Daniel says aloud, at the sight of the high ceilings and the snatch of a glance at a beautiful old painting.
It's impossible to tell if Armand is smiling or sad by the tone of his voice. "Yes," he says. "Welcome to Night Island. It's all yours."
Daniel can't keep the smile off his face. "I love it." He can't shut himself up. "Is it gonna be like this all the time?"
"Yes," Armand says, and Daniel goes to him, drifts a hand over his cheek to take him by the neck, takes him by the small of the back, and backs him into the nearest wall. They kiss. It's good. It's fantastic.
"Good," Armand murmurs to him. Daniel rests close to him, enjoys this moment, hoping beyond hope that it's all this kind of high along with all of his others.
Chapter 4
Notes:
1) Daniel's in less denial than before, but he's still not 100 percent there yet.
2) Adventure time!
3) Daniel gleans some truths from an interview.
Chapter Text
Daniel dreams of Armand holding onto him, whispering words into his ear, words he can't name but feel completely true, and he knows what's coming. He murmurs, "Yes," and Armand releases a sound like a satisfied scoff before he leans in against his throat, the slightest warmth against his skin before Armand's fangs plunge into his throat and painfully dig in.
It's been a few times, and it still hurts like a son of a bitch, but part of him is getting used to the pain, the sensation of the slow drain of energy from his body as Armand drinks from him. The weird lightheadness hits him, making him drift, then he groans and realizes how hard he's getting somehow – from the pain, probably, now that he knows that about himself.
Daniel wakes up with a gasp, reaching out for something or someone that isn't there, then he sinks back into the very nice bed he now shares with Armand. Armand isn't there, though he definitely was when Daniel fell asleep, and he can't help but notice that his cock is still hard from having the weirdest possible sex dream about Armand. He heaves a sigh, then he snatches up the bottle of lotion they'd used last night and hauls himself up to find a bathroom to shower. He starts a very hot shower with very good water pressure and relaxes into the heat, his hand drifting absently to his cock as he strokes it a few times. He breathes in the steam, and takes some of the lotion in hand to start to jerk his cock. He can shower after this. It's fine.
"Fuck," he groans, his mind flicking through images before it settles squarely on the sensation of Armand so close and so insinuated against himself right as his fangs bit in. It's why he woke up hard, and it's why he makes an intense sound as he works his cock. The dream was so vivid he can almost feel it as he stands under the hot shower, and he's hungry for Armand in a rush. An incredible heat rises inside him, and he doesn't relent until he finally comes, a satisfied sound escaping him as he relaxes even a little from the stress of the weird situation he's in.
Technically there's nothing to be stressed about because all of his needs are being taken care of and he's basically a vampire's kept boy. He's still trying to wrap his head around committing to a man like this. He knows he could ask Armand if he could leave at any point and he'd probably say yes and send him off to live somewhere comfortable until he gets onto his feet; then again, maybe he doesn't know that, and Armand will talk him into staying here for years, until he's a lot less young and pretty and he changes his mind.
Anyway. Daniel just showers, drops the lotion off in the room when he changes, and picks out a book from the shelf of one of Armand's living rooms, reading to distract from the very aggressively sexual thoughts he can't stop himself from having. After what has to be an hour or two of almost reading something, he flinches at a touch to his shoulder, and Armand leans over to him. "Hello," he says, and kisses him on the mouth. It's exactly the kind of thing he doesn't want to feel this good when he's feeling like this, so he turns his face away, not caring that Armand can read his mind, which he doesn't even attempt to pretend he's not doing. "Everything is fine, Daniel. I was on the mainland for some business. That may happen from time to time."
"Oh." Daniel decides not to make it a huge deal, because it barely matters, and he's unable to help himself; he reaches out to touch Armand's face, knowing how to flirt with men even if he would pretend he doesn't. "Were you busy now?"
Armand's gaze flickers with pleasure at the touch, the sound of his voice. "Not at all," he says. "Let's." He beckons Daniel with the tilt of his head, and Daniel climbs to his feet, wishing he didn't feel like he was playing exactly into someone's hands. Maybe with time the feeling will fade. They walk back to the bedroom, then Daniel pounces on him, kissing him and getting his clothes off, already getting him halfway onto the bed before he's kicked off his pants and underwear. He seems to be enjoying Daniel handling him a lot, actually.
Daniel pulls back, starts to undress, and talks as he goes. "You like to play little headgames, don't you?" he asks, shedding his shirt. "It's so much better for you when you play around, isn't it."
"Isn't it better for you?" Armand's gaze is tight on him, very intense. "Don't you like it?"
That gets a laugh out of Daniel as he gets his fucking clothes off, a little too sober for this. "Does it matter if I like it?"
Armand makes a soft scoffing sound. "Of course it matters."
"What I'd like to do is fuck that smug look off of your face," Daniel says, in a moment of temporary insanity.
Armand's expression flickers, but into something very intrigued. "Show me," he says. "What do you want?"
Daniel gets Armand facefirst in the pillows, reaches in for a fistful of hair, and yanks his head up as best he can. "I'm fucking you up today. I'll make you lose it. I know I can do that."
"All right," Armand says, with very minimal strain, and Daniel makes a face at that before he grabs the same lotion and doses up his hand with it. He shifts right behind Armand, grasps onto his cock, and starts to work it pointedly. "Oh," Armand murmurs.
"Yeah," Daniel says, definitely very close to him as his hand purposefully strokes his cock. "You're a pain in the ass. You should know that. You should know I know what you put in my head last night."
Armand isn't hiding that he's having a good time. "What did I put in your head?"
Daniel laughs. "Fuck you," he says, and kisses along his shoulder as he gets hard incredibly fast, no matter what he'd say about his sexuality at a time like this. "You think I wouldn't notice?"
"I didn't do anything," Armand says, lust and a real amount of restraint matching in his tone. "What happened?"
"Nothing." Daniel has a flash of doubt, especially because he knows Armand could read his feelings at any time. "What would you do if I just got you off like this, didn't give you anything at all?"
"I'd…" Armand shifts against the pillows as he arches into Daniel's touch. "Please."
"That's a good start," Daniel says without missing a beat, not sure he could take walking away from this after being so sexed up for hours in a row. "Let's try that again."
Armand sounds hungry for him. "Please, Daniel." Daniel smacks him in the ass, and he makes the slightest groan of need and thrusts his cock forward into Daniel's touch. "Oh – "
Daniel laughs at that, running his hand along Armand's ass after the hard contact. "Stop holding back," he tells Armand, pulling his other hand away from his cock. "Let go. I know I'm good at this, so there's no excuse."
A few more words slip out of Armand's mouth, none of them English, sounding like a mix of a few languages, and Daniel smirks to himself. "Stop performing for me," he says. "Just let go." He doses his fingers up with lotion and starts to prepare Armand for his cock, trying to take his own advice and just sink into the moment. It's not easy. He listens to Armand, his heart pounding as he realizes he's definitely too sober for this, not distracted enough from what he's actually doing to make it simple to do it. He wants Armand badly, but he doesn't want to want him. The conflict is enough to make his head buzz, even as he aches to be inside of Armand.
"Are you ready?" Daniel delivers it as more of a taunt, really enjoying bringing the ancient creature low, if he's even pulling it off.
"Yes." Armand's voice is soft where he's resting amongst the pillows. "Please."
Daniel pulls his fingers out of Armand, swats him on the ass hard, and Armand makes a desperate sound as he reacts to the pain. "You too, huh?" Daniel asks dryly, and smacks his ass one more time to make him moan. It's time to play. He lotions everything up and presses his cock inside of Armand's ass, gripping into his hips. "I've got a question for you, Armand, am I really in charge here? Can I ever really give you an order?" He starts to fuck Armand forward into the pillows, deep and pointed.
"I would say," Armand says halfway against the pillow, obviously flustered. "I would say I'm in your hands."
"Are you now." Daniel laughs at that, tightening his grip on Armand's hips to make him jerk towards him. "So what happens if I don't give you what you want?"
Armand is his own version of breathless. "You want me."
Daniel grabs into his ass to earn a soft sound, railing him with his mind raging at what he's so obviously into right now. "Maybe I want you to prove to me you aren't fucking with my head."
Armand sounds very out of it. "Oh," he manages.
Interesting. Daniel skates his hand up Armand's back and seizes a handful of hair, pulling him backwards and getting another groan out of him. He feels so perfect around Daniel's cock, so wet and tight. "Do I really want this?" he asks Armand plainly, fucking him harder while keeping his grip in his hair.
"I don't," Armand says, loses his grip on the sentence, and makes another desperate sound.
This could be another game, but it's also really hot, and Daniel can't keep drilling him with questions when the urge is to fuck him into another dimension. He toys with Armand's hair, getting his cock as deep as he can into Armand's ass, and Armand trembles before he comes very suddenly. Daniel yanks Armand back onto his cock hard, overwhelmed, and fucks him a little bit longer before he comes with a few thrusts and a forced back sound. "Fuck," Daniel swears, the word full of a spectrum of emotions he's not ready to deal with, especially after a really good fuck.
"Yes," Armand murmurs, and Daniel runs a hand down his back before he pulls out of him, falling back against the pillows with a sigh. Armand shifts to his side and looks at him, a faint smile on his face. "Did you miss me?" he asks.
Daniel doesn't love the question. He's the one who asks questions. "I was horny," he says. "You wanted it. Seems fair."
Armand seems much more himself now, but still riding high. "You thought of me." Daniel doesn't deny it, doesn't see the point in denying it. "You wanted something from me."
"I got it," Daniel says easily. "You're not hard to get."
"No." Armand is clear with him. "I have what I have with you because you interest me."
Daniel can't deny how good that feels to hear, though Armand's implied it before. "I'm so interesting you moved across the country to be with me," he says. "What does that mean?"
"You moved, too." Armand touches his face, a light, gentle brush of his hand and down to his chest. "That means that you do want me."
Daniel puts his hand over Armand's hand and closes his eyes. It shouldn't be true, but it is. "Be honest," he says. "Did you put this in my head?"
"No, Daniel." Armand takes his hand carefully. "Everything you feel is you."
"Right on," Daniel murmurs, doing his damnedest not to get swept up in anything more than he already has. "I want to eat in a bit. Stay here for a while."
"Whatever you'd like," Armand says, and seems to mean it, as he shifts to rest against Daniel's shoulder.
Daniel breathes in the scent of him, the same shampoo and soap he's used in the bathroom they now share, and the domesticity of it takes him aback. He says nothing, toys with Armand's hair, and thinks numbly about the women he's known and hurt over and over again. Maybe this is better. Maybe he does less damage when he's leaning into something this fucked up.
Armand speaks up a cozy few minutes later. "Did you want me to bite you?"
Daniel wishes the answer to this question was harder, or different. "Yes," he says.
Armand shifts to be on top of Daniel, runs a hand down his chest, and meets his gaze with his intense, hypnotic eyes. "I'll take you down," he says. "Breathe, and feel every moment. I think it'll be instructive." He draws out his fangs, and leans down to bite into Daniel's throat. It's an immediate shock of pain, then he arches into Armand, dizzy with pain and arousal. He drinks from Daniel, who feels a sudden jab of fear that he'll never be a real version of himself before he dies, and he asks and answers questions like What do I do? and Did I fuck up? He's appreciably hard when Armand pulls back, but even harder as Armand bites him up, along his shoulder, on his chest, on his side, on the inside of his thigh. Armand seems to be deeply into this, and thankfully withdraws his fangs before he starts to suck Daniel's cock.
Bleeding, in pain, fucked up ten different ways, Daniel groans through one of the best blowjobs he's ever gotten in his life and strokes his fingers through Armand's hair before he comes inside of his mouth. He lies there, totally spent, and Armand shifts to be beside him again, self-satisfied like the cat that ate a cage full of canaries.
"Okay," Daniel says, halfway to the ceiling, halfway to Armand, and he can feel Armand smile.
Daniel lives through a week of incredible meals, trips to the beach and boat trips along the Keys, getting very high, and fucking all of the time, then Armand wakes him one morning and says, "You should pack your things. We're traveling for five days. I'll wait for you downstairs."
Interesting. Daniel rubs sleep out of his eyes. "Okay," he says, not all that interested in arguing. Armand just barely smiles, leaves him alone, and Daniel has to do a bump of coke before he's ready to start hunting down clothes to pack. Once he's ready, he goes downstairs with his suitcase, finding Armand at the doorway looking eminently fuckable. "Hey," he says, and wonders if he can get away with fucking Armand before they go.
Armand looks at him, vaguely amused. "Later," he says. "We have a flight to catch." One of Armand's servants picks up Daniel's suitcase and takes it; Daniel opens his mouth to say something, and Armand touches him lightly to pull his attention back to him. "Have you ever been to Italy?" he asks Daniel, a shade politely.
Daniel looks blank. "No."
"Of course." There's a look Daniel's caught Armand giving him in the last handful of days, and it looks an awful lot like fondness. "We'll be traveling across the country, but we'll go to Rome first. I haven't been to Rome in a very long time."
"How long is 'very long'?" Daniel asks, purposely not touching him.
That earns a very different kind of look from Armand. "Very long." He moves closer to Daniel and touches his chest, lingering as Daniel looks into his face. "I want you to enjoy yourself. Did you pack your recorder?"
Daniel isn't sure why it's even a question. "Yeah."
Armand nods slightly. "Then you're free to record what you like. Just remember what we've discussed."
"Wh – " Daniel realizes what Armand means after he tilts his head away from him. "No, I wasn't planning on fucking anyone else, if that's what you're saying."
"Good." Armand runs two of his fingernails up Daniel's chin, lifting his face towards him. "It would trouble me to lose track of you."
Daniel still can't believe he's made this commitment, but he has, and so far he hasn't seen any reason to go back on it, besides the obvious part where he shouldn't be doing it at all. "I'll stick with you."
Armand leans in and kisses him, a brief little contact that makes a smile flicker across Daniel's face. "Come along," he says, his fingers drifting down Daniel's cheek before he turns away and leaves the house behind with his long stride. Daniel catches up to him and gets into the waiting golf cart, comfortable as they leave Night Island behind, even though he has no idea what he's really getting into.
That seems like the point. Even with his nerves – this is the furthest he'll have ever gone away from home in his life – he's still excited, and it feels like Armand is watching him for just that reaction. For some reason, Armand is using his wealth to give Daniel something he might never be able to give himself, and it's making Armand happy as much as it makes Daniel's heart pound in anticipation for a new adventure.
Daniel doesn't ask until they're on the flight a while later, after some mild chit chat that he pushes his way through to get to the point. "Why are we doing this?"
"Why not?" Armand asks, batting the question back with ease.
Daniel doesn't fall for it. "I want to know what you're getting out of this."
Armand shifts back comfortably in his seat and thinks. "I want to rediscover life," he says. "I went without a real life for years."
Daniel considers that. "You rarely talk about Louis."
Armand stiffens slightly in his seat. "I see no reason to."
"Maybe you should." Daniel is doing this without a recorder, because that's not the point of this conversation. "It seems to me you've got something pent up in you, and you're barely letting go, even when you're with me."
Armand sits silently for a pause, unmoving, then answers. "What is it you want to know?"
That surprises Daniel, but he goes on. "I want to know what happened. You told me about the trial, then you left the story there. What happened? What made you come to me?"
Armand glances at him, wary. "I don't really know – " He pauses, composes himself back to a calmer state. "Years passed. I lost track of who I was. I became what he needed, or I became – worse." He tilts his head at an awkward angle. "I told myself I was happy to serve, but eventually it became too much when I found him with you, knowing what he'd done."
"What he'd – " Daniel thinks about it for half a second, then realizes. "Oh." The interview. Louis probably wasn't supposed to do that. "But you did it with me days later."
"I destroyed the tape." Armand flashes a smile. "I needed your questions, not the proof."
"You destroyed – " Daniel knows he has to let that go. "You were happy to serve, huh? The housekeeper, the guy who's always there to clean up the mess?"
Armand seems less than amused. "Yes," he says. "I loved him, it seemed worthwhile."
Daniel can read between the lines. "Until it didn't." Armand says nothing, so Daniel keeps going. "Thirty years of any pattern could wear on someone. It's okay to move on. For you thirty years probably isn't that long anyway."
Armand is still choosing his words carefully; it's easy to tell. "Thirty years isn't so long," he agrees. "But you." He stares down Daniel, who looks back at him with as much composure as he can manage facing that expression. "You refreshed things for me. I thought I would go back to him, grovel, do it all over again. But I spent a night with you, and it all seemed clear."
It feels like a compliment, but there's something else buried in there. "Life, the universe, everything," Daniel says. "One night with a twenty year old from Modesto, and someone like you figures it all out?"
"I haven't figured it all out." Armand looks out the window. "I'm learning. So are you. We can explore the world together, sort out what we can."
Daniel just feels the flicker of a smile cross his face. "So it's not all for me."
Armand briefly touches Daniel's hand, his fingertips grazing over his skin, more contact than Daniel expected in public, even if no one is looking. "No, it's not all for you."
"Okay." Daniel is a little freaked out at the contact, especially as Armand keeps toying with him. "Are you sure – "
"Everything is fine, Daniel." Armand runs his thumb along the line of Daniel's hand. "I'm happy to be on this journey with you."
Daniel has every reason to doubt him – there's something about Armand that just screams liar, no matter if Daniel agreed to follow him around and gave up his life to be here – but he also can't deny there's a hint of sincerity in Armand's words. He wishes he could kiss him, but they're on a flight for the next several hours. All he can do is look at him, and know that Armand knows what he's thinking.
Eventually Armand withdraws his hand, and Daniel is left cold. He falls asleep very quickly, dreams of nothing, and wakes as Armand shakes his shoulder. "We'll be landing soon," he says. "Then a car trip to the hotel, then anywhere you'd like to go."
"Yeah, right on." Daniel rubs his hands over his eyes, trying to wake up. "They've got clubs in Italy, right?"
"I'd think so." Armand clearly itches to touch him, but doesn't. "You have four days to dig up anything you can find in Italy. Then we move on."
Daniel considers that. "I can go anywhere? Do anything?"
"Within limits we've already discussed," Armand says delicately, "but, yes, you're free to explore."
"Right." Daniel looks at him more carefully. "Without you?"
Armand definitely hates this conversation. "If you so choose."
Daniel breaks the barrier between them, not caring for an instant that he might be seen, and reaches out to touch Armand, his hand gentle on Armand's face. "I just don't want to bore you."
"You won't," Armand says, with some authority, but stares at Daniel with a familiar kind of hunger. Daniel aches to be bitten. He can't believe how fucked up he's gotten. He withdraws his hand, settles back in, and the plane lands.
They end up in the car, their fingers entangled out of sight of the driver, and Armand's lips curve into a smile as he talks about some of the sides of Rome they should be able to explore, other cities, before they take a flight out of Venice. Daniel is excited in spite of himself, in spite of how weird it feels to be sober for this long, and Armand squeezes his hand to confirm that he senses something in Daniel and he's present. The moment makes Daniel laugh awkwardly. It's more intimacy than he's used to allowing.
They head into the hotel, and Armand's people bring their suitcases inside; Daniel waits until the last person is gone and the door is closed before he draws Armand to him and kisses him on the mouth, tangling his fingers into Armand's hair. Armand makes a soft sound into his mouth and clings into his clothes. He backs Armand into the wall as he keeps kissing him, feeling him up, breaking only to be an asshole about it. "I've gotta get high," he says. "But we'll get back to this." He leaves Armand there, swept away as he is, and digs into his suitcase to find the bottle of quaaludes he'd packed. He takes some dry, takes a heavy seat on the bed, and laughs to himself.
"What's so funny?" Armand asks, drifting closer behind him.
"Life," Daniel says, caps the bottle of quaaludes, and tosses them back into the suitcase. "What good is it if you don't live?"
Armand stares at him, Daniel holds his own, and Armand finds words within a second or two. "Tell me something," he says. "If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?"
Daniel actually considers it. "I just want to be famous," he says. "I want prizes, I want money, I want the respect of the people who matter. I know I've gotta start small, but I know I'll get there. I'm a bright young reporter with a point of view."
Armand visibly pauses. "You want to achieve," he says. "You want recognition."
"Yeah, I guess," Daniel says, unbothered. "I'm not afraid to work, I'm just not interested in writing for squares, you know? The big newspapers run by Nixon assholes."
"I see." Armand paces ahead, his face not visible to Daniel anymore. "I'll do what I can to entertain you in the meantime."
"Right on." Daniel's still very interested in Armand, but the moment's passed, thanks to his need to kill his sobriety. "Let's crack this nut, right?"
Armand almost laughs at that. "Yes, let's," he says, and turns back to Daniel to offer the start of a smile.
Daniel resolves that this trip will be fun, a world opening up to him, different people, tapes to fill. Armand can watch, listen, all he wants. Daniel's going to have a good time.
Despite all the negative things you could say about Daniel Molloy, he's very capable of tracking down people who have stories to tell. Within four hours of being in Rome, he eats a lavish dinner with Armand politely picking apart the food in front of him, then he sees a woman across the restaurant, gorgeously dressed with a pretty dress and jewels, sitting all alone. Daniel looks at her, and it's hard not to sense her sadness. He finishes his food, stands up, and goes to her table to speak to her while giving her as much space as he can. "Hi," he says. "Do you speak English?"
"Yes, I do." The woman looks at him with more worry than anything else. "How may I help you?"
"I hate to see you sitting alone," Daniel says, gripping into the chair he's standing behind. "My, uh, companion won't mind if I spend some time with you, if you're willing to have me."
She hesitates, then gestures for him to join her, and he pulls out a chair to sit across from her, giving her some distance. "I'm a journalist," he goes on, ready to lay this out for her in case she wants to reject him outright. "I take anonymous interviews from people and write stories. I read your face, you look like you have a story."
He's thrown her off. "You want to interview me," she says, and her English is very good. "Where would this appear?"
"Don't know," Daniel says, with a little smile. "I try to find interesting places for my pieces to go."
"Why should I do this?" she asks him, and he gets the sense she's trying to push distance between them.
Daniel knows what to say. "Because sometimes people need to talk. Do you need to talk?"
She breathes out slightly, composes herself. "Can I trust you and your companion?" she asks.
Daniel smiles a little. "Of course," he says. "You're safe with us. No funny business." He pauses. "We could go somewhere quiet, record it there. I wouldn't need you for longer than an hour or two."
She pauses, extends her hand to him, and doesn't quite smile. It seems like she's having trouble with the idea of letting go and trusting anyone. "My name is Gianna Amatore," she says.
"Daniel Molloy." He takes her hand lightly in his own before he kisses it. Something flickers behind her gaze; he carefully releases her hand and lets her withdraw. "A quiet place in Rome," he says, his gaze trained on her. "Do you have any ideas?"
Gianna inclines her head. "You should come with me. You are a tourist, yes? Do you take taxis?"
Daniel laughs. "We have a hired car. My companion can afford it." He relaxes back. "Why don't you tell me where you want to go and I'll follow you there? My companion can stay behind."
Gianna nods, thoughtful. "If it's not too much bother." Really, he has no idea how he's convinced her into this, but it's definitely not a problem. He has a good feeling about this.
"It's not too much bother at all." Daniel considers her as she writes down an address on a piece of paper she unearths from her purse, and hands it to him. He looks at it, has no idea where it could possibly be, but the whole purpose of this was adventure. He's going to see what happens. "I need to talk to him, if you don't mind, then we'll meet you there in, say, an hour?"
"It should take you about 40 minutes to get there," Gianna says, and doesn't move. "So you're aware."
"Thank you." Daniel flashes a little smile, leaves her at the table, and goes back to Armand. "I assume you got that," he says.
Armand seems charmed, for reasons Daniel doesn't understand. "It went well? You'll be going, I assume."
"I think she'd be jumpy with two of us there," Daniel says honestly. "She was already wondering if I was gonna do something dirty."
"That's fine. Take the car. I'll meet you back at the hotel when you're finished." Armand looks up at him, and clearly wishes he could kiss Daniel. "I'll wait for you," he says instead.
"Yeah." Daniel takes the risk of running his fingers into Armand's hair where he sits an inch away, toying with him for maybe two seconds before he withdraws. "Be ready for me," he says, and Armand makes a faint sound of agreement. It's time to go. He leaves Armand behind and goes to find the car on the Roman streets, knocking on the window to reveal his presence before he climbs into the back and hands the piece of paper over. "Take your time," he says. "I need to be there in an hour."
"Si, signor," the driver says, and starts to drive through Rome. Daniel looks out the window, curious about anything interesting he might see, pressing this into his memory so he'll never forget it. Rome is beautiful in its own way, full of life. There are so many stories here. He could dig for weeks, probably, and find something good every single day.
They end up on the very edge of Rome, at a huge house that emanates wealth. Daniel gets out of the car, stares at the house, then shakes himself out of his thoughts. He checks his watch; he's a few minutes early, even with traffic. He waits outside, though he can see someone outside the window watching him, until another car pulls up ahead of his own and Gianna comes striding out. She approaches him, glances at him askance, then the door opens and she leads him inside. "Would you like anything?" she asks, extraordinarily polite.
"Just some water," Daniel says, though he'll need to fuck around and get high during a break from this interview. "Let's sit." Gianna guides him into the house, into a small study, and the quiet is almost oppressive. "Very quiet," he says dryly, and almost gets a little smile out of her. He takes out his recorder, puts a tape in, and shuts it. "I told you that this is anonymous," he says. "No one knows that this story is yours except for me and you. This is for the record, so I can remember everything. Makes sense?"
Gianna considers the tape recorder, then leans back and eyes him. "Yes," she says. "I will play your game."
Daniel laughs at that. "Not much of a game," he says. "I ask questions, you answer them." He pauses. "So what do you want to talk about?"
Gianna glances away as a servant brings a glass of water to Daniel. "My husband," she says. "My fortune."
That's the kind of interesting thing he was hoping for. He leans forward, hits record, and speaks. "This is Gianna Amatore, about her husband and her fortune." He barely pauses before he asks the question. "Tell me about your husband."
Gianna is reticent at first, telling her about her husband Luca, with the verb tenses shifting over and over again. He's sure he knows where this is going. When she reveals that Luca died at the age of 40 from a heart attack, she needs comforting, and he does his best from a distance, careful words chosen to not trigger another few tears from her eyes. Her real story is about a fight for the Amatore fortune, and her voice strengthens as she talks about pushing back against Luca's family, who desperately tried every legal technique possible to try to take it away from her. She had thought they were family to her, but when the money came into the picture, they turned on her.
"You wonder if you can trust anyone," Gianna says, her gaze distant. "If everyone is out for themselves."
"Self-interest is part of the human condition," Daniel says, itching for a break to get a bump or more. "But you're not supposed to let it take you over, hurt others."
Gianna nods. "So I am alone," she says. "I am welcome to parties, but with no one close to me, to comfort me in his absence. He is gone, and I only live outside of these walls. I am dead within them, as dead as he is."
There's something here. Daniel senses it. This is good. "Do you think about finding someone else, moving on?"
She freezes up. "You are given one special love in your life," she says. "It's not easy to move on knowing you'll never feel that way again."
He leans forward. "What did that love feel like to you? Why was it so special?"
Gianna meets his gaze. "Our connection felt inevitable," she says. "As though we would have crossed oceans to meet each other even without knowing the other was there. I knew I couldn't walk away the first time we were alone. I was with him. I was his."
Daniel feels a sting, though he doesn't understand why. "And being without him, without that connection, what does it feel like?"
"The emptiness of space," Gianna says, and looks at Daniel frankly. "Nothingness."
"I'm so sorry," Daniel says, maybe the first time he's really addressed that. "You're a tough signora. You'll find some way through. I believe that."
Gianna sighs. "At times, there is hope," she says. "At times, it feels like there is none."
Daniel nods. "What brings you comfort?" he asks. "You seem to have everything else you could possibly want."
Gianna gestures. "I distract myself. Nothing more."
Daniel sets his glass of water down and asks one more question. "Does it help, to say it out loud?"
"Yes," Gianna says, though she seems surprised that it's true. "Thank you, Daniel."
"Yeah, no problem." He stops the tape, puts the recorder away in his bag, and casts a look at her. "I appreciate your time," he says, and means it. "I don't know if you'll ever see this in an article, but as long as it helped."
"You're a good boy." She gets to her feet, and he follows her out to the door; before he can leave, she pats his cheek and kisses both of his cheeks. "In bocca al lupo. Good luck."
"I'll do my best," Daniel says, and wonders how many mansions he'll have been in by the time this is all over. "Same to you." He withdraws, finds his waiting car, and goes back to the hotel. It's about an hour drive, and he falls asleep in the car on the way. The driver snaps his fingers several times to wake him up, and he blinks awake. "Oh, shit."
"We are here, signor." The driver gets out of the car and opens the door for him, so he gets out and tries to snap himself out of it. He really needs to get high. He thanks the driver, goes up to the hotel room, and ignores Armand to get out his coke and supplies so he can cut himself two lines and snort them immediately.
"Hello, Daniel," Armand says behind him, mild-mannered. "You had a good time, I take it."
"Yeah, great," Daniel says, finally at ease, and he sets his bag with the recorder aside before he remembers and goes to mark the tape with her name and the date. He looks across the room at Armand, who's watching him. "What?" he asks simply.
Armand leans back on the bed, relaxed. "Tell me what troubled you."
Daniel doesn't know what to make of that. "Nothing troubled me."
"Something caught your attention. Something she said." Armand's gaze pierces him, and his voice speaks into Daniel's head. Better to tell me now, Daniel.
Daniel itches his arm, unsure of himself. "She really loved her husband," he says. "I just don't know if I'm capable of that kind of thing."
"Real love?" Armand asks. "What do you think that would look like for you?"
"I mean, I've liked girls before," Daniel says rapidly, "I've cared about them, mostly, but there's something missing. From me. Seems like everyone can do it but me."
Armand considers Daniel. "An eager black hole," he says. "You need someone who can manage you, who can keep from being pulled in."
Daniel laughs. "If I find a woman like that."
Armand scoffs slightly, Daniel frowns at him, and Armand just says it out loud. "I've told you, Daniel, you don't respect women enough to love one. Work on one thing or the other, but you can't force this issue."
Daniel can't necessarily argue that. "You think I'm an asshole."
"I think you treat women poorly," Armand says, not mincing words, "yes." He catches a look from Daniel, and shrugs. "You might sooner love a man. Less baggage."
"A – okay." Daniel scoffs this time. "What is this? Are you trying to say something?"
"I'm saying that love isn't a thing unique to a man and a woman." Armand regards him carefully. "There's nothing wrong with being with a man."
"But I'm not. I'm not a queer." It feels like a silly thing to argue when he's living with and regularly fucking a guy, but he's not about to think about that. "You know I have no problem fucking women."
"Yes." Armand's strange gaze bites into him, and he can't help but react. "You can want both. But what do you really want?"
The words die on Daniel's tongue as he stares into Armand's gorgeous, odd eyes. "I want to be respected," he finally says. "I want to know that there's nothing to be worried about."
Armand considers that, then says with his usual dramatic flair, "There isn't, Daniel. You don't need to worry."
Daniel takes a heavy seat on the bed next to Armand, his high swirling in his head and threatening to go bad. Armand seems aware, and touches his hand, then his cheek, gently drawing him in for a brief kiss. Daniel shivers despite himself, and Armand very nearly smiles. "All's well," he says. "Take your time."
That sets something off in Daniel, who steals a few more aggressive kisses from Armand's mouth before he's pulling Armand's clothes off and wrestling him down to the bed to blissfully torture him prior to the main event. When they fuck, Armand says nothing into his head, but Daniel knows he's there.
The thought flits across Daniel's mind as they rest against each other in the afterglow.
Don't leave me alone.
Armand's voice murmurs into his head, as he stays so close to Daniel. Never.
Not for the first time, Daniel thinks he might be in some real trouble.
Chapter 5
Notes:
1) Still roadtripping.
2) Oh, a different flavor to blood-drinking this time, so to speak.
3) An interview that gives Daniel some things to think about.
4) Three months, and Daniel's denial is nearly sorted out.
5) Some tough questions get raised next chapter.
Chapter Text
Daniel has never been anywhere as cold as Greenland in his life, but once he gets even a little bit used to it, he has to admit that what he's seeing is interesting. They hike in their gear out to Norse ruins, and Daniel peers at the remnants of a long-gone society with just as many questions as he's ever gotten out of an actually interesting history lecture. "Before your time," he murmurs to Armand.
That gets a snatch of a smile from Armand. "Much before," he says. "Well before the plague."
That intrigues Daniel. "That would have been a couple hundred years – "
"Daniel." Armand is painfully fond. "Focus. We can talk more later."
"You think I can help it?" Daniel complains, but falls in line behind the tour guide with the thick accent explaining about what the carvings in the stone mean. Armand is behind him in a second's time, touching his elbow, and he smiles despite himself.
Once they're back in the hotel room, Daniel insists on curling up under the blankets for warmth, so they strip down out of their sweaters and pants to comfortable clothing and Daniel gets Armand close to him, his anxious mind at a distance for once. They kiss, and Armand wears one of his little smiles as they break. The moment dizzies Daniel, who just runs his hand through Armand's hair and watches as his gaze unfocuses in pleasure for a moment.
"I have an idea," Armand says softly. "Will you follow me?"
Daniel curls his fingers in the hair at the back of Armand's neck. "I'll try anything once."
Armand takes one of his long fingernails and draws a sharp line against his wrist, blood pooling to the cut. Daniel stares, then Armand says it with a resonance to his tone. "Try it."
He knows what's being asked here, but it's a whole new line to cross. That doesn't seem to matter as much to him as it should. He takes Armand's arm reverently in his hands and puts his mouth to the cut, drinking the blood that keeps pulsing out. It's the essence of life. A memory from weeks ago. It's power. It takes sweet and bitter and fucks him up within seconds. He drinks until Armand runs his fingers into his hair to draw his attention away from the high of the blood, then he lifts his head, wild-eyed, his mouth stained and sticky. Armand stares at him with what looks like pure satisfaction, then Daniel can't handle it a second longer, something broken in him right here, right now.
"I don't think I've ever been happy." The words just start falling out of his mouth. "The last month, I don't know, I, I feel like I just woke up from some fucking terrible dream and only this has been real. Even though it can't be. This doesn't really happen. You don't just randomly get plucked out of the world by a pretty millionaire to live a perfect life. Something must be wrong." Armand watches him closely, and he feels a tingling start from deep inside of himself. "You're lying to me. But I can't figure it out. Why can't you just tell me the truth?"
"I don't know what you mean." Armand draws closer to him, closing the distance Daniel didn't even realize he was trying to make. "You don't trust me."
"I don't know," Daniel says, half an echo. "This is too good to be true."
Armand cups his cheek, and Daniel feels himself lean into the contact, dizzy again. "Two months, and I've never hurt you unless you've asked." Armand isn't accusatory, as though he's used to this conversation. "What will it take for you to trust me?"
Daniel pulls him into a firm kiss, feeling totally insane, rolling out of control. "I'll try," he says, means it in the moment as he looks into Armand's strange and beautiful eyes. "I get it. I'll try." Armand kisses him in response, and Daniel drifts into it, kisses him a dozen more times until he's breathless and on top of him in a rush.
When he fucks Armand, he keeps him on his back and kisses him through it, the feeling in his body like a strung-through pulse echoing through both of them. For the first time, he's inside of a man and he doesn't feel a distance and self-loathing raking over his soul. For the first time, he can let the thought into his head that he might actually care about someone, nonetheless a man.
It crosses his mind, and Armand clings into him a split second later, as though he knows. Daniel trails kisses from his cheek to his throat, and says nothing, his heart deep as a sweet well for once in his life.
They come seconds apart, Daniel kissing him and biting into his lip with a rush of pleasure, then he collapses against Armand and starts to laugh. "Daniel," Armand says softly.
"Yeah, I know." Daniel breathes, runs his fingers into Armand's hair. "Promise me. Promise me you won't hurt me."
Armand lifts Daniel's chin to look him in the eye. "I promise," he says, and it looks like he at least believes he means it.
Daniel pulls out and away from him, lying on his back. Two months. It doesn't matter. He hasn't said he's in love, because he probably isn't. He's just infatuated, caught up in the whirlwind that is the life Armand is giving him. None of that matters. It feels better, more real, than anything else he's ever had, sad as it is. Armand read it in him that he was unhappy and reached out to pull him up for reasons he still doesn't understand.
Sure, Armand might be lying. The worst thing that happens is Armand kills him, and at least he'll have lived a real, interesting life before he goes.
"Shh," Armand murmurs, draws close to him, kisses along his shoulder.
Daniel catches himself smiling.
Daniel's never been anywhere like Japan. It's a totally different world, even though it's made up of the same constituent parts. He's high as hell as they walk the streets of the most interesting districts of Tokyo, doing his best to keep his hands off of Armand, only surrendering to his urge once they've sneaked into a club that seems much more ready for who they are. He drags Armand into the bathroom and kisses him, his heartbeat pounding his chest, blood rushing through his ears. They end up entangled against the nearest wall and its battered taped-up posters, and Armand takes a handful of Daniel's curls to gently pull him back. "I want you." A hunger flashes behind Armand's eyes, and Daniel knows what's being asked. He pulls Armand into the stall, shifts so they can both fit, then Armand pins him back against the wall of the stall to take another fistful of curls and pull his head to the right so he has better access to bite deeply into his throat.
Daniel can't stay quiet, paralyzed in pain and unbearably turned on, drifting and arching his cock against Armand's body. Armand lifts his head away from Daniel's throat, and Daniel laughs aloud, perfectly dizzy. "Far out, man," he says. "You want to go all the way?"
"We'll have a drink after," Armand says, still genteel despite all of this, and Daniel bends him over to lean against the wall, yanks down his pants and everything in the way. It takes maybe a minute of toying a few fingers inside of Armand for Daniel to concede they barely have the time to fuck around on this, and he spits for a little bit of lube before he positions himself to get the tip of his cock inside of him, only then wrapping a hand around Armand's mouth to stifle him. Armand nips his hand without fangs, and Daniel laughs despite himself as he starts to fuck him forward, grabbing into his ass purposely to get a reaction.
Even with the little bit of lubrication, it's still good. Armand wants him, every inch of him, every part of him, and god if that doesn't feel great. He feels sky-high, and it's not just the massive amount of coke he took an hour ago. That would have faded some. This is a whole different kind of high. He teases his hand away from Armand's face and pulls back into Armand's hair; Armand just barely resists a moan, and he holds his grip into Armand's hair as he fucks him hard enough to get through this in a short enough time that they won't be outright busted.
"Fuck," Armand says, so unlike him that it sends a thrill through Daniel, then he comes untouched with a shiver. Daniel shoves him a little harder against the wall and fucks him until he comes, pulling a groan out of Armand as he exerts enough pressure on him.
"You fucking love it," Daniel says, an absolute king on high at the moment.
"Yes," Armand says without hesitation, and Daniel pulls out of him so they can pull together their clothes, then kisses him with a rush of feeling as they're both steadying themselves to go out and have a drink.
Daniel feels a rush of clarity as he looks Armand in the face. "I don't want to go."
Armand considers that. "Are you happy?" he asks, very direct coming out of him. "I'm happy."
Daniel doesn't think anyone's ever told him they were happy with him before. It takes him aback. He backs off, opens the stall, washes his hands, unsure of himself. No one says anything, Armand giving him the time to think even through the rush of cocaine and sex.
"I need some time," Daniel says, before they leave the bathroom and go back into the noise of the club. "Tomorrow."
"It's yours," Armand says simply, and Daniel briefly tangles his fingers with Armand's before he goes ahead to leave the bathroom for their first drinks of the night.
When Daniel wakes up the next morning, Armand is gone, and there's a note on the hotel stationery in his very elegant script. I'll be back. Entertain yourself.
It's both an order and the answer to Daniel's request from the previous night. He wanted space, and Armand is willing to give it. It's not the first time they've spent time apart over the course of the last few weeks of traveling, but it feels different, somehow. Something about what happened last night changed things between them.
Daniel pockets the remaining hotel key, shoulders the bag with his recorder in it, and starts to just walk through the streets not far from the hotel. It would probably have been easy to call a car, but it's more important to him to find what he needs to find on foot, on sight. He sees a guy about his age eating lunch with a distant sort of look on his face, and he approaches, wondering for the first time whether or not he hunts just as much as Armand does. "Hey," he says, and delivers his now standard opening. "Do you speak English?"
"Yes," the guy says, examines him, and doesn't exactly say no to the conversation in a way that doesn't feel polite so much as curious. "My name is Minoru. I do business with English partners."
"Yeah? No shit." Daniel takes out his recorder and sets it between them. "I know this is weird, but my name is Daniel Molloy, and I'm a writer. I get ideas from real people, but I keep them anonymous. If you want to talk to me, I'll just record this for my own record."
Minoru absorbs that, then answers casually. "I don't see why not."
It's a kind of fast and loose playing with life that Daniel can respect. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?"
Minoru finishes the bite of his sandwich. "Women," he says, with that much thought to it.
Daniel nods, hits the record button, and speaks up. "This is Minoru, about his relationships with women." He barely pauses. "Do you have a girl right now?"
Minoru laughs at that. "No," he says, very clearly, and the certainty in it makes Daniel smile a little as he very much understands the feeling behind the tone. "I am 19 years old," Minoru says, "and I don't think I will ever love a woman."
That throws Daniel. "Why not?" he asks.
Minoru shrugs. "I want to love one," he says openly. "I find they are – strange creatures. Illogical. Angry at things I do. I wonder if it is my own fault, but I may never know."
It makes Daniel anxious, though he doesn't show it. "Don't you think someone could be out there waiting for you?"
"I have 50 years to find a woman before I become an old man and die," Minoru says, gesturing with his sandwich. "It makes sense to wonder if it is possible at all when you can't seem to do anything right."
Daniel feels a discomfort in his stomach. "What is it that puts that distance between you and them?" he asks. "What do you think it is?"
Minoru tilts his head as he thinks about it. "You may not be able to understand," he says. "But it feels like my heart is broken." He pauses. "Defective. That word may be better."
Daniel only lets that sit for a moment, not allowing his own feelings to get in the way of the interview. "I get it, man," he says. "But maybe the problem isn't the women or you. It's the specific woman. The one meant for you."
"Meant for – " Minoru shakes his head. "50 years. That is many years. I don't want to die alone. If you have someone, you may not be able to understand."
"No, I do." Daniel scratches his head. "I – " This interview isn't about him. He gets back on track. "What would your dream woman be like?"
A smile breaks out across Minoru's face, and it's a little cynical, but it's not unappealing. Daniel listens to him talk about the look of her, the shape of her, the sound of her, what she would care about, what she would do, and it's hard not to think about the fact that he's never had a dream woman at all. They've always been throwaways to him. "She sounds great," he says to Minoru, and means it. "Even three-quarters of that would be a win."
"As long as she's pretty," Minoru says, and that makes Daniel laugh; Minoru sobers. "No. I would like a pretty girl, but I have had pretty girls."
"Doesn't mean anything if you can't see anything in them," Daniel says, and clarifies as Minoru looks more closely at him. "If you can't relate to them. If you can't get close."
"Exactly," Minoru says, and tosses the crust of his sandwich into his bag. "I wonder if I was poisoned by my parents. I didn't know them before the war, but they must have been different. They must have been happy."
Oh, that hits too hard, too. "I know what you mean," Daniel says. "You can't be a kid if your parents aren't happy." Of course, his parents had much less convincing reasons to be unhappy than World War Fucking Two being on their doorstep, but either way.
"I would like to be a happy parent one day," Minoru says, thoughtful. "Wouldn't you?"
Fuck. Daniel hasn't let himself think about being a parent in a long time. He gave up on the idea maybe a decade ago, when he realized how fucked up he was, how he had no idea what a real marriage or parenting job would look like. "Yeah," he lies. "A couple of kids. Maybe even a girl."
"I don't know that you get to choose," Minoru quips, and Daniel cracks a smile.
They talk about Minoru growing up outside of Tokyo, moving to the city to find a real life, to find a real wife, to develop the kind of life he always wanted, and Daniel smiles wistfully as he listens, asks, listens, asks. Eventually the conversation winds down, Minoru checks his watch, and straightens. "It's okay," Daniel says, still smiling, and hits the stop button. "Have a good day."
"And you," Minoru says, seeming to mean it, and withdraws into the city. Daniel watches him go, sits there with his recorder out in vaguely disturbed silence, then puts the recorder away and walks back to the hotel. He unlocks the hotel room, tosses the key aside, and sees Armand in the bathroom, whatever the hell he's doing in there. He sits on the bed and waits for Armand to come back out.
Armand moves back into the room and flicks the shades shut on the window of the room. "Was your morning enlightening?" he asks.
"I want to go back home." Daniel desperately needs to rephrase that. "Night Island. I want to go back."
"All right." Armand takes that fairly well. "We'll finish out this trip and fly back. It's a long trip, but I want you to be comfortable."
"Yeah." Daniel doesn't know what to say to Armand right now. It feels like there are a thousand things he could say, but none of them would be right. "You already know, don't you?" he asks, muted.
Armand shrugs. "I'm not constantly reading your mind," he says. "I dip in. Check on you. See how you're doing when you seem to struggle."
Daniel makes a face. "Just answer yes or no," he says.
Armand pauses. "Not exactly," he says, hedging, and Daniel doesn't manage to keep from rolling his eyes; it earns a look out of Armand as he clarifies. "No. I know you're unhappy. I don't know why."
"I'm not unhappy, I'm – " Daniel wishes this was easier to explain. "I'm confused." Maybe that's the best word.
"Come." Armand speaks the word clearly, and normally it would go with the sudden drifting movement of his body towards Armand, but Armand seems to trust him to stand on his own. Daniel goes to him, and Armand touches his face, a delicate contact that sparks all kinds of difficult feelings in him. "Daniel, you are different now from when you met me nearly three months ago. That's a good thing. Embrace it."
Daniel is struggling, though, there's no other word to explain it. "Can't you find someone better than me?" is what eventually falls out of his mouth.
Armand leans in close, a breath away from a kiss. "I want you," he says. "No one else." They kiss, and Daniel's eyes fall closed, his breath caught, desperate. Armand whispers the next. "Now kiss me, Daniel. Because you want to."
Daniel slips his fingers into Armand's hair, his hand around his waist, tugs him close and kisses him fiercely. They make out right there, standing by the desk in the Tokyo hotel room, then Daniel breaks away and tilts his throat to bare it to Armand's gaze. Armand wastes no time in biting him just as he's being asked, and Daniel's mind scatters into a thousand pieces, overwhelmed and thrilled.
Chapter 6
Notes:
1) This chapter is almost entirely conversations between Daniel and Armand, plus some porn.
2) Some conversations are tougher than others.
3) Daniel is making progress, but he's still Daniel.
Chapter Text
Daniel realizes the minute he sets foot on Night Island that he's never been happier to see a place in his entire life.
The only thing that's ever compared was maybe the times he got to go out on a boat trip on the Pacific, far away enough that California was just some lights on a coastline and not the harsh, cold reality of the future he knew he had to run from. The ocean was deep enough that the darkness under the water called to him. He jumped in more than once, a few times in his clothes, too drawn to the idea of swimming as deep as he could, even as he knew the ocean would try to crush the life out of him.
Night Island isn't that different, at root. While he knows that this whole thing with Armand isn't going to end up with a happily ever after and very well might end up with him dead, he doesn't care, because staring down the barrel of Armand's dangerousness is part of what draws him to all of this, the beauty and luxury aside.
Armand makes the decision for them that they should rest in the bedroom once they're back in the mansion, and Daniel strips down to a thin layer of clothes so he can totally relax in their bed. Armand follows suit, delicately setting aside his clothes in a major contrast to the way Daniel just throws his own around, then moves onto the bed to lean close to Daniel. "Do you want to?" he asks.
That could mean anything. Daniel looks at him, then Armand calmly draws out his fangs so he can bite into his own wrist. Daniel's pulse leaps, and he reaches for Armand's bleeding wrist, tastes the blood that spilled, and drinks more right from the source. Armand talks as he drinks, though he's only somewhat registering it. "You look so beautiful like this. I don't know where I'd be without you."
Daniel's heart is hammering in his chest as he gratefully drinks Armand's blood. He doesn't plan on pulling back until he's told to. "I know where he is," Armand says wistfully. "I wish I didn't." He runs his fingers through Daniel's hair, then takes a fistful of his curls and pulls back, triggering him to release Armand's wrist. "Will you stay with me?" Armand asks, the question infused with an insecurity that Daniel can't read.
"Yes." Daniel stares at him, then wipes his mouth, his heartbeat skipping around desperately as he tries to get his mental footing after the blood fucks him up the way it always does. "I want to stay here forever. This is my home." What the fuck is he even saying? He keeps tripping over his own mouth. "My home is with you."
Armand stares at him for half a moment too long, then runs his fingers into his hair and seems to think. "I know that's how it feels now."
Daniel looks at him, not hiding his confusion. "Isn't that what you wanted? A companion?"
Armand touches Daniel's face, holding his attention. "I wanted to live life," he says. "I wanted someone who would appreciate life to come with me, to show me how." Daniel's having a hard time following the line, but he doesn't let himself completely zone out. "You've been a good companion, Daniel. I want to keep you." That's enough to make Daniel lean in and kiss him on the mouth, moved and full of the kind of racing emotion that comes with the blood. A smile flickers onto Armand's face after. "Tell me one thing," he whispers to Daniel, who looks back at him, transfixed and prompting him to go on. "Do you think you could ever love someone?"
Daniel shifts to climb on top of Armand, pinning him down against the bed, and Armand is beautifully tense as Daniel finally speaks. "I don't know what love is," he says. "I just know I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone in my entire life, I want – " He kisses him fiercely, back at it once they break. "I want to kiss you, I want to talk to you, I want to see you in the morning, I want to fuck you out of your mind. I want everything, and you're giving it to me."
"Yes," Armand says softly, and he's really very attractive like this, painfully needy. "Anything you want, Daniel."
"Be honest with me." Daniel feels himself spinning out of control, and he grips hard into the pillow he's leaning into, forcing his focus. "Tell me the truth. One truth."
Armand shifts up against him, a little shiver breaking through him. "Marius gave me his blood," he murmurs, then catches a look from a very high Daniel, throwing in a reminder for his sake. "My maker. For years prior to his changing me."
Daniel is slowly putting all of this together. "And you're giving me yours."
Armand nods, his wide eyes holding all of Daniel's attention. "I thought it was a gift that would make you happy. It made me happy, all those years ago."
God if Daniel doesn't want him. "I'm very happy," he says. "So that's true? He gave you his blood, then he turned you?"
"Yes." Armand is clearly craving more of his touch. "I did love him. I don't know if that makes sense to you."
"I mean." Daniel wonders how to address that. "Maybe you don't know what love is either."
Some kind of light dies in Armand's eyes, and Daniel kisses him, pins him down harder, makes him react. He keeps the moment just like that for longer than he usually would, kissing him, holding him in place, drawing more and more heat out of Armand until he makes a soft moan into Daniel's mouth. They break, Daniel works on getting Armand's clothes off, and Armand says, "Is that enough for you?"
Daniel doesn't even remember what he's talking about. "You'll remember this," he says, because it feels like the right thing to say. "Hundreds of years from now. You'll remember me." He runs his hand up Armand's thigh once he's naked, and Armand moves into the motion. "Say it," he prompts Armand.
"I know it." Armand is soft with him. "Now give me something to remember."
Daniel smirks a little, and gets his clothes off so he can drag Armand into the exact position he wants and fuck him into incoherence.
This – the life, the island, Armand – really does feel like home.
It's not as though Daniel's running out of reasons to find Armand attractive, but Armand's laugh brings out a different kind of attraction in him. It's soft, withdrawn, understated, and draws Daniel in every time it comes out of him. Armand has definitely realized that Daniel kisses him every time he laughs, but doesn't seem to know what to do with that information, instead looking embarrassed the split second between the second he does laugh and the kiss Daniel drops on his mouth. "You're funny," Armand says this time, almost by way of explanation.
Daniel is high, but he doesn't think he's so high as to have totally forgotten making a joke. "What's so funny?"
Armand makes a face at him, but does answer. "You have such opinions about California. I've seen mortals do this for the past few centuries, the tribalism, and it's – " He visibly searches for the word. "Charming."
"Oh, so this was condescension." Daniel's mostly joking, though. "Fine, tell me what it was like 400 years ago. What was so different?"
"I was the rare person to have traveled far." Armand toys with Daniel's hair, close and fond. "Most people never got more than 20, 30 miles from their birthplace. Once I settled in Venice then Paris, I didn't travel far outside of them."
"So you wouldn't have opinions on other places because you would have never seen them or known anyone from them." That makes sense. Daniel is too interested in the conversation to shut it down just to drag him upstairs into the bedroom, as tempting as that ever is. "Did you have opinions?"
Armand tilts his head, takes a second to think about it. "I wish I could remember Delhi. Or Bangladesh. I remember Europe much more clearly. I loved Venice. It was – I suppose – a special place, even after the fall."
Daniel steals a kiss from him, purposely flirtatious, before he goes on questioning. "What was it like? Living in a fallen empire?"
"Bleak," Armand says, though Daniel hadn't expected him to paint a rosy picture. "But so were most things at that point, and I was doing fairly well, all things considered."
"Yeah, with Marius de Romanus." Daniel sees a flicker behind Armand's gaze, and presses. "Does everyone get so hung up on their maker? Is that normal?"
Armand curls some of Daniel's hair around his finger. "Yes. It's a very important relationship for a vampire. Maybe the most important one they'll ever have."
Daniel feels a tug to ask the question he's been thinking about for weeks. It's been nearly four months. He can't wait for a year, five years, a decade. He needs to know. "Would you ever turn me?" he asks bluntly.
Armand goes very still, then his eyes fall closed and that laugh escapes him again. "No," he says simply.
Well, that's a vague answer. "Why not?" Daniel asks. "I know, maybe you don't want to do it yet, but someday – before I get too old – "
"Marius only turned me because I was close to death," Armand says, with obvious forced patience. "It's a very drastic decision to make. Lestat was cavalier about it. I am not."
"Ten years," Daniel says, unable to help himself. "If you still want to be with me in ten years, you should at least consider it."
"Daniel." Armand isn't hiding how on edge this whole conversation is making him. "Please. Let it go."
"Armand. Come on." Daniel looks at Armand, who looks back at him with an accusing sort of blankness in his expression. He shelves it for now, kisses Armand in apology, pulls him under into blatant interest after tangling his fingers in his hair and making each kiss a little more thorough each time.
Daniel isn't even completely sure that he wants to stay with Armand for eternity. He's not sure what it would say about him if he meant to stay with a man forever. There's some part of him that's desperate to have this for as long as he can have it, though, and this is what makes sense to his coked-out brain. Maybe he's okay being a queer forever, as long as it means this incredible state of affairs never changes.
Armand will want to lock him down eventually. It's a matter of time. It's not the worst thing if he's got time to think it through.
"Daniel. Wake up."
Daniel blinks awake to find Armand leaning over him, that weird alien expression on his face, the one where he seems to be trying to find the human emotion to correspond to what's going on in the situation. "Hey," he says, dazed. "What's going on?"
Armand touches his chest, a light, subtle contact. "It isn't too early," he says, but that isn't exactly an answer. "I thought you might be well-rested enough to have me." That's a little more direct, which is good.
Daniel can't resist taking Armand in, lightly-dressed and perfectly-styled as he is right now. "Get your clothes off and we can talk about it," he says. "What exactly do you want?"
Armand runs a fingernail down his chest, teasing, though his expression remains nearly serious. "Whatever you want," he says. "I mean that."
That starts a smile at the corner of Daniel's lips, and he's sober, not able to blame this joy on coke or quaaludes. He pulls Armand down to him to kiss him briefly, then nudges at him. "Clothes," he says. "Then get on your stomach." Armand follows orders as Daniel shifts off of the bed to take off his boxers, the only clothes he'd bothered to wear to sleep in the Florida heat. Armand is resting on the bed quickly, and Daniel moves beside him, running a hand down his back lightly before grabbing into his ass. Armand shifts against his hand, clearly wanting, and Daniel rears back to smack him on the ass, earning a groan from Armand. "You know what I want?" Daniel asks, and gives him another good smack, getting a hiss out of him. "Here's a question for you. What happens next?" He runs his hand over Armand's ass, soothing it from the impacts. "Is it just like this until one day you wipe my memory and dump me somewhere?"
"I don't know," Armand says, a perfect kind of strain in his tone. "All I want is you."
"Don't know if I believe that," Daniel says, and hits him on the ass one more time to make him arch. "What's next, Armand? What do you want to do?"
"This is your game." Armand seems to believe what he's saying, even though Daniel doesn't. "I – I love you, Daniel."
That freezes Daniel up, and he takes a handful of Armand's hair to tilt his head back and get his attention. "No you fucking don't," he says. "Don't lie to me."
Armand looks, sounds pained. "I'm not."
"You're saying what you think I want to hear, but all I've ever wanted is the truth," Daniel says pointedly. "Tell me the truth."
"Daniel. Beloved. Please." Armand's eyes fall closed. "I know you don't trust me, but I had to say it."
Daniel yanks back on his hair to put a little more strain on him. "Stop lying to me."
Armand is perfectly tensed next to him. "Do what you want to me," he says. "Whatever it takes."
"Fuck you," Daniel says, more bite to it than he wants there to be, then he releases Armand's hair and takes a few steps away, running his fingers into his hair. "What the fuck."
Armand shifts to face him, and Daniel looks at him to meet his gaze. "You need to accept the possibility that someone knows you and loves you," he says. "I won't tolerate anything else happening again."
Daniel wishes he wasn't fuming, but this is how it is. "You've known me for four months."
"But I know you. I know you better than anyone has ever known you." Armand has that voice on again, the silky persuasive one, his hunting tone. "Isn't that true?"
"I know, I know you've read my mind." Daniel paces away two steps. "That doesn't mean you love me."
"What I know, I love," Armand says plainly, "and I know all of you."
Daniel might lose his mind. "Why?" he asks. "Just tell me why."
Armand won't drop that fucking tone. "Because I've lived for 466 years and I've never felt more alive than I have with you."
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Daniel maybe should be trying to wrap his head around this, but mostly it's pissing him off. "Sure. Okay. You've convinced yourself of this. That's fine. I'm gonna fuck you now, and don't say anything stupid. Don't say anything at all."
"Daniel, I'm not trying to upset you," Armand starts, but Daniel shushes him and moves behind him, spreading his legs, spreading him open, working him up with some lotion. Armand just relaxes into the moment, accepting Daniel's mood for what it is, and eventually just murmurs as Daniel stretches him out inside, "Please."
"Fuck," Daniel swears, and lotions up his cock, ready to take Armand in a way that will hopefully shut him up for a little bit and get him off. His frustration gets to him even as he presses the tip of his cock inside of Armand's ass, and he forces his focus onto the sensation of Armand around him, and the way he at least pretends to bend to his will.
Armand is clearly forcing himself not to speak, and Daniel appreciates that, taking a fistful of hair and seizing into Armand's hip as he starts to fuck him with purpose. Daniel won't stop until he feels Armand break, ready to go for hours if he needs to, absolutely enraptured with the way Armand feels against him even as he wants to be pissed off about everything that just happened. This was a mistake. He's starting to soften inside at the sight of Armand like this.
"I want to hear it after this," Daniel says abruptly, still fucking deep inside of Armand. "Make me believe it, when you're too worn out to be an asshole." He tightens his grip in Armand's hair, and Armand tenses perfectly. "Do you hear me?"
"Yes," Armand whispers, fucking reverent.
Fuck. Daniel presses his entire cock inside of Armand, getting a great, desperate sound out of Armand. Daniel fucks him just that deep, again, again, thoroughly, until he seems dizzy and out of it. Good. This is what he wanted. He has no idea how long this is taking, but he'll do it for as long as it takes to get Armand in any kind of weakened state.
"Daniel," Armand half-asks, the very sound of it hungry.
"I told you not to talk." Daniel smacks him on the amount of ass available to him, then fucks him harder, until he's squirming. "I'm gonna make you come. I'll count down from seven. You come when I'm finished." He doesn't ask if Armand's registered this, ready to punish him if he doesn't follow through either way. He spits into his hand and works Armand's cock. "Seven. Six." Armand rides against everything Daniel is doing to him, some really stellar sounds coming out of him. "Five. Four." Daniel jerks him harder, and Armand moans. "Three. Here it comes." He kisses along Armand's throat, and Armand is out of his mind at this point, there's no doubt in his mind. "Two. One." Daniel spits in his hand for more lubrication, then jerks him pointedly. "Come for me, Armand."
Armand comes with a low sound, melting against him, and Daniel doesn't last long after that despite his frustrations, coming inside of him with a groan. "Fuck," he swears, for what feels like the hundredth time. "You're such a pain in my ass."
"Daniel," Armand murmurs, as they stay close, Daniel still buried inside of him. "I love you, Daniel."
All right, so this didn't go the way Daniel expected. "Right on," he says, not really sure what else he can do. He pulls out of Armand and flops onto his back. "I almost think you believe that."
Armand turns to face him, his gaze flickering over Daniel as though sizing him up. "You think I would lie to you, after everything you've done for me?"
That makes it seem pretty unfair, and Daniel doesn't love the judgment, but at least it makes more sense now. "All I've done is fuck you and go on trips with you."
"And talk to me," Armand says, some worry creeping into his tone and gaze. "And open yourself up to me."
This is getting uncomfortably true. Maybe this isn't what he wanted after all, but this also might have been necessary to hear at least once. "Yeah." Daniel keeps it cynical, but he doesn't really mean it, and Armand must know that. "You're – " What can he even say to this? He doesn't know that he can even begin to confess what Armand's done to him. "You know," he says, because Armand's probably read everything in his mind already anyway.
Armand examines him. "I'd like to hear it."
Daniel levels a look back at him. "You've… opened my mind." That seems fair to say. "Thank you."
Armand reaches out to touch his face, a gentle brush of his hand. "Do you think you could ever say it?" he asks softly.
Daniel needs to get this conversation under control. "I don't know," he says, a little terse. "Isn't it enough that I'm here? That I'm with you?"
"Yes," Armand says, to the point. "That's enough."
"Good." Daniel leans in and kisses him on the mouth to put the conversation to rest, then tugs Armand against him, his eyes closing as he tries to absorb the idea of someone really loving him.
It won't be easy to accept, but he might have no choice.
Chapter 7
Notes:
1) A bit of a time-jump. We'll be doing these going forward.
2) Daniel learns another new thing about himself.
3) Daniel explores his feelings for Armand with the help of a typewriter...
4) ...and gets more than a few things out of the exercise.
Chapter Text
It's both the easiest thing in the world and really complicated to stay in a loving relationship with Armand. Armand tries to make it simple by giving him everything he wants and saying all of the right things, but it takes time for Daniel to be okay with hearing and believing the words I love you from someone who he knows is maybe the most persuasive person he's ever met.
It's been a little over two years since Armand bought Daniel a drink and lured him back to a blank, unlived-in apartment, and they split their time almost equally between just spending time together on Night Island and taking trips around the world. Armand doesn't usually need to feed on anyone but the occasional snack on Daniel, but there are times when the hunger starts to influence him. When they're on Night Island, there's a process that starts a week or two before the hunger starts to become unbearable to him, where Armand goes through an inexplicable process to pick a victim and bring them to the island so he can hunt.
Daniel is painfully curious about what the first part of the hunt looks like, but it all goes too quickly for him to keep up. He has to wait in the house for Armand to bring along the athletic-looking middle-aged guy he's chosen this time, and he exchanges a look with Armand that gives him permission to watch.
"It hasn't been easy." Armand's voice comes out smooth, soft, gentle, as he guides the man to sit. Daniel sits off to the side, unnoticed by the victim, as Armand stays close to him. "You've suffered. You've been left behind by the people who claimed to love you. What is left?"
"I don't know," the man says, his voice just loud enough for Daniel to hear.
"There is nothing more to hope for." Armand touches his chest, his face; Daniel can't see the man's face as he absorbs what Armand has to say. "You know this in your heart. You've stared down the blankness of the world outside your tiny apartment. You've felt the pointlessness of your work. You've known the world would go on smoothly without you." There's an incredible emotion to the way he speaks, but a pulse of hunger to it. Give in. Daniel catches himself engaged in a way he hadn't expected to be, turned on and increasingly obsessed with Armand's voice. "Things could be better. You don't need to run. You don't need to drink and hide from yourself, from everything you know. You could be free."
"What do I do?" the man asks softly.
Armand runs his fingers into the man's hair, a gesture that could be mistaken for affection but is very obviously a sign his body is screaming to obliterate the man. "You tell me to free you from all of this," he says. "That's what you want. Isn't it?"
There's barely a pause before the man says it. "Yes. I want it."
"Let me take you away," Armand whispers, but is definitely purposely loud enough for Daniel to hear. "A peaceful death, to find out what dreams may come."
"Peaceful," the man says, an echo. He can't think about anything but Armand's voice. Daniel's been there.
"Peaceful, Peter." Armand's posture shifts. "Just rest."
"Rest." Another echo. Something about this feels familiar. Daniel tries not to think too hard about it, even though curiosity stings him, and takes it in as Armand bites into Peter's throat, somehow the personification of seduction while still an animal feeding. Daniel wants him so badly that it aches inside of him, that he's getting hard and unable to stop himself from stroking himself through his pants. Armand tears into Peter until he gets paler and paler, until he goes completely limp. There's a moment of silence as Armand lifts his head.
"Wow," Daniel says, because nothing else covers it. "Just like that, huh?"
Armand turns to face Daniel, blood still staining his mouth. "Just like that," he says. "What did you think?"
Daniel's having a hard time thinking with how badly he wants to jump Armand right now. "I think you're the hottest guy I've ever seen," he says, just letting his mouth run.
A smile flickers onto Armand's face, and he abandons the body to straddle Daniel in his chair. "You liked it," he murmurs, arching against Daniel's hardening cock. "You faced Death and you wanted to fuck him."
Fuck, this is hot. Daniel's almost flustered. "Does Death feel like going upstairs?" he asks, mustering some irony.
Armand touches his face, and it's very different from the way he touched Peter. His gaze is locked onto Daniel's face. "Is that what you want from me?"
What kind of question is that? "I always want that from you," Daniel says, an instinctive deadpan, because he's also so aroused that it's hard to think clearly. "Fuck, I don't know why that didn't, that – "
Armand leans in and kisses him silent, his fingers running into the hair at the back of Daniel's neck while his other hand seeks between them to touch Daniel's cock, and Daniel shifts against him, hungry for the contact. "I'll do it again," he whispers to Daniel afterwards. "I'll let you watch as they go."
Daniel's head is swirling. Maybe Armand is doing something to him. He'll never know if the darkness inside of him was always there, waiting to be pulled out of him, or if Armand has planted it there and is making it grow. Part of the problem is that it feels too good to push back against. If he were smart, he would have left years ago, but he's not, and the emotion of it all is threatening to push past all of his reticence around fully committing to someone who isn't even hiding that he's this dangerous. "Do it again," he says, unable to stop himself, and Armand shivers, kisses along the line of his throat as his head drops back against the chair to take it in. "Oh, you're so fucking good."
Armand hums with satisfaction, working Daniel's cock through his pants as he teases his mouth against his neck, and Daniel groans. "I want it," he says, and Armand climbs off of him, comfortably falling into step behind Daniel as they make their way upstairs. Daniel faces him once they're in the bedroom, looks at his blooded shirt, and immediately peels it off of him, still with the instinctive rush of self-loathing as he loves how it feels to touch Armand's bare skin. He looks beautiful. He looks ready and wanting to fall apart under whatever Daniel chooses to do to him. He might want Daniel more than anyone ever has.
Daniel wants this forever. He knows that. He gets all of Armand's clothes off and muscles him down to the bed on his back, pinning him by the wrists with the simple order, "Don't move." Armand stares at him, but keeps his wrists in place as Daniel kisses his way down Armand's body, only to push through the shiver of revulsion at himself as he takes Armand's cock into his mouth, slowly and purposefully. Armand shifts, groans, wants, but takes his order seriously and doesn't allow his wrists to move.
The game is on. Daniel sucks his cock, deeply focused on giving him pleasure in each and every move, doesn't get lazy. Armand shudders, but he's still in place, and Daniel looks up at him with dominant satisfaction jabbing him hard. His cock is already so fucking hard. He could fuck Armand senseless right now, but at this point he wants Armand to feel how grateful he is to have seen what he's seen, to be where he is.
Anything for you, Armand whispers into his mind, wordless as he is out loud. Anything, beloved.
Daniel knows it's true. Not for the first time, he wonders who's really in control of all of this. It's probably Armand, but there are times when he breaks, and he seems to mean what he says about surrendering, serving everything to Daniel with a smile. Daniel wishes his mind wouldn't flit around so often when he's sucking a cock while sober, but it's such a homo thing to do that he can't help but be distracted by his own urges when he's going at it. He tries to savor Armand's cock in his mouth, really enjoying how it fills him up, but that doesn't exactly feel right, so he pulls back. "You know what I want?" he asks Armand, full to the brim with a kind of perfect, reflective emotion. "I want you on top of me. I want you to ride me."
Armand nods, and looks scrambled when Daniel faces him after shifting off of Armand to lie on his back. "If you like," he says, then moves to be on top of Daniel, snatching at the lotion on the side of the bed to dose himself then rubs some over Daniel's cock. Armand doesn't waste any more time than that to prep himself, and easily presses the tip of Daniel's cock into his ass, slowly taking his cock inch by inch. Daniel loves it, loves looking up at him, hates how much it makes him feel, how many questions he's having to ask himself even after two years of living with a man. Armand starts to move once he's taken enough, and it feels so incredibly good that Daniel laughs.
Armand gets flustered as he goes, successfully doing himself in just riding Daniel's cock, and Daniel grips into him hard to press him down an extra inch or so, earning a soft sound out of him. Daniel hums in a kind of approval, and Armand groans, a very satisfying sound to get out of someone as controlled as Armand. He's always loved it. He will always love it.
Fuck. Daniel can stay hard as long as Armand wants him to, honestly, and Armand fucks himself on Daniel's cock for a long time, the decorum and focus that makes up Armand's supposed personality all gone as his gaze goes wild and unfocused. Armand shudders again, then rides Daniel's cock harder, making that friction just perfect, and comes untouched. Daniel doesn't let him slow down, grabs him by the hips and fucks right up into him, harder than before; Armand shudders harder, and Daniel looks up at him with arousal coursing through him as he comes with a thrust or two inside of him, out of breath within seconds. "Fuck," he says, his feelings as mixed as they ever are.
"Shower?" Armand asks, the politest way to address the mess he's made on Daniel. Blood stains a bit more than come does. He does dab away what he can. "Daniel, I – "
"What?" Daniel asks, not impatient.
Armand slips off of his cock, falling to his side, his own version of breathless. "I love you, Daniel."
Daniel still doesn't know what to say, after this long. He's so broken, with so little life behind him to justify it. "Let's take that shower," he says, and Armand doesn't seem to hold it against him, on his feet seconds after Daniel moves to leave, his head swimming with confusion he doesn't feel like a 22 year old should feel.
It's been two years. It should all make sense by now. He should make it make sense. He should write something.
That might be the only way to figure this out.
Daniel asks Armand for a typewriter, and within a day Armand indicates that all of the supplies he needs are tucked away in a study in the same hallway as the bedroom. Daniel moves to sit in the much more comfortable chair than he's used to perching in to write, stares down at the beautiful desk in front of him, then at the expensive typewriter in front of him. Sometimes the luxury still surprises him. Sometimes he thinks Armand is trying to surprise him.
He puts a piece of paper in, cranks it into place, and stares at the blank piece of paper before he knows exactly what to write.
Last week, I met with an anonymous millionaire and her lover to talk about what life is like at the top of the ladder.
No one needs to know the full truth. The core story is what matters, and he's got a story that just might be worth buying, after all of this time of recording, recording, recording, and never writing a word.
David was a young and handsome man, ambitious but taking gap years to absorb the world around him with Mariah's help. "She found me in California," he said, and I won't deny that it was nice to run across someone who knew my home state. "It was one of the same bars I'd gone to since the year I left home, and I never expected to meet anyone who would matter to me for longer than a night there. I didn't expect her to ever matter to me." He looked embarrassed to be saying the words, but he said it out loud, knowing that she was in another room. "She worked her way into my heart. Not with the money, but just by being herself."
No lies there. He's definitely embarrassed to be saying it. There's just a lot to mine here, and he's not about to say no.
David and Mariah often traveled, and met people along the way. He told me about another millionaire he'd met, an Italian woman devastated by grief who inherited a fortune from her beloved husband but never thought she'd love again. He told me about a Japanese man who told him he doubted he could ever love but knew the kind of woman he would have come to love anyway. He told me about a poor South African woman who struggled with fertility and keeping her partner by her side as they fought to have a child, and the painful love that came with that. He told me that all of these stories reminded him of the core of why he continued to go back to Mariah's island, and stay faithfully by her side.
"She's the best thing that ever happened to me," David said, the truth of it clear in his eyes. "The opulence is something, sure. But I've never felt anything as strongly as the way I do when I'm with her."
Daniel stares at the pages he's already written, pages through them, then sighs to himself and realizes he has to have the conversation or he might not get it right.
Armand is dressed casually, lounging in one of the libraries. He looks up at Daniel with the question clear in his face, and Daniel takes a seat next to him, placing the tape recorder between the two of them. "I have some questions," he says openly.
"Go on." Armand sits with a kind of flair as he waits for Daniel to hit the button.
Daniel hits record and looks Armand in the face. "Why did you pick me? Really? What made you latch onto me?"
Armand is unmoved. "At first, you served a purpose."
Daniel interrupts him before he can go on. "What purpose?"
Armand rolls his eyes. "I was trying to forget Louis, and process everything that had happened between us. Our nights together eased that pain."
Daniel is surprised they've never really spoken about this, but then again, Armand barely speaks about Louis. "I was your rebound."
"Yes, if that's what you'd like to call it." Armand glances away just slightly. "But in time I picked you because…" He gestures as he thinks. "You proved to be more than I originally thought. More complex, full of more interesting shades."
"What sort of shades?" Daniel is intent to dig into this. "What could possibly have made you comfortable enough with me to move me cross-country into your house after a month?"
Armand looks as though he's trying very hard to be patient. "You are imperfect. I saw you had it in yourself to grow. I wanted to learn how to live life beside you. Before you, it had been a long time since I felt as though I was living life at all."
Daniel considers that. "Are you saying I gave you meaning?"
Armand's gaze seems to be trying to take him in. "That might be one way to say it, yes."
It takes Daniel a second to really wrap his head around that. "I'm just some dumb kid from Modesto and you're centuries old, what the fuck are you talking about?"
"You want me to be honest," Armand says, and looks very much like he'd like to kiss Daniel. "It's very easy to lose sight of what life is when you merely pursue building wealth for the next 100 years. All I had from the late 1940s on was our business prospects and whatever scraps Louis would throw me."
Daniel sits with that. "He stayed with you even as he lost interest," he says. "Or do you think he ever really had an interest?"
Armand looks stung, probably because Daniel's on the right track. "He said he loved me," he says. "I thought I could trust him."
Daniel wonders what that means about him, what he's been denying Armand these last years. "I'm writing about us," he says bluntly. "I wanted to know what you had to say about us."
Armand tilts his head and thinks about it. "I think we carry on because of some combination of my devotion to you and your inquisitiveness. With everything at my disposal, we're able to live a very interesting life, one that keeps that – spark going."
"I feel a spark." Daniel isn't opposed to admitting that. "Do you ever feel ridiculous, feeling that spark for someone mortal, someone who'll be gone in what probably feels like a blink to you?"
"What are you asking me?" Armand asks, his tone just a fraction tighter.
Daniel looks blank. "Exactly what I said."
Armand relaxes slightly, but very slightly. "I choose to live in the moment, rather than think of what might happen later."
Daniel's lips turn up into a faint, wry smile. "You're not thinking about the future, or consequences."
"No," Armand says simply.
"Yeah. Right on." Daniel hits stop on the recorder. "I think I've got enough."
Armand's gaze is verging on challenging at this point. "What will you say?"
Daniel can't fight a smile. "I'll let you read it once I'm finished, how about that?"
Armand leans in closer. "I'd like that very much."
"Then that's what we'll do." Daniel closes the distance to kiss him on the mouth, and runs his fingers into Armand's longer hair before they break. "I'm taking a break."
"Oh?" Armand asks softly. "With me?"
"Yeah." Daniel kisses him one more time. "Tell me something interesting."
Armand nestles close to him and thinks. When he answers, it's a long story, but it's easy to follow, the kind of wild story about famous painters from centuries ago that would never be fit to print without being dismissed as fictional garbage. Daniel listens, genuinely interested, asks questions as he tells it, and Armand's tone warms up more and more the further along he gets.
"I do love you." Armand can't seem to help himself as he finishes the story out. "Do you believe me?"
"I think so," Daniel says, instead of what he should say, though now the question haunts him. Armand nuzzles closer, and Daniel strokes his fingers through his hair, loving even if he can't say the words.
Meaning was out of reach for Mariah for years, but the day she met David, everything changed. At first, all she wanted was someone to talk to, to bare her soul. She never expected to grow to love someone who she normally wouldn't have sent a second glance.
After a few edits, the article is published in a Florida newspaper. Daniel receives a check, not that he needs the money, and they buy a copy of the newspaper to clip out his editorial. It's in the lifestyle section of the paper, nowhere near the front page, but it's the biggest newspaper to ever publish his work. Armand reassures him that this doesn't mean he's selling out. He wrote exactly what he'd always intended to write – stories about the world, about people – and finally someone took interest.
The story of Mariah and David is so personal that he has no idea why he wrote it down, least of all published it. That might be why it worked. He ripped his chest open and slammed his heart on the table in front of the world. Maybe no one will notice the story at all. Maybe he'll bring a realization to someone the same way all of those interviews made him realize the truth about how far he's fallen into what he has with Armand.
When he gets the news, he fucks himself up with a few lines of coke, because he doesn't know how to feel about it. In the end, all of the weird feelings melt into the background of feeling pretty good, though he wonders if he's managed to catch some kind of bug, because his body hurts and his head only clears once he's got the coke in his system. He's sprawled out on a couch when Armand finds him, and he tilts his head up at the sound of footsteps to crack a smile. "Hey," he says, the word packed with irony. "Going my way?"
"I'm sorry to have been away. I was arranging things." Armand sets a bag down on the table, removes a gram bag of coke, a bottle of pills, and a bottle of what looks like very well-aged scotch. He moves to fetch two glasses from the nearby bar, and first opens the bottle of scotch. "You'd like to celebrate, of course?" he asks, eminently casual.
Daniel sits up and first picks up the bottle of pills, weighing it in his hand. "You're too good to me," he says dryly. "Especially after I dumped all of your feelings onto the lifestyle page of the Tampa Chronicle."
Armand shakes his head. "It was a good story," he chides Daniel, and nudges the first glass he pours in his direction. "Why would I be offended?"
"Because it's your business." Daniel's gotten his fair share of people who got tired of him asking questions and invading their privacy. He usually doesn't care. Armand is different. "If you don't care, that's great. I'm just making sure."
"You're checking in on my feelings." Armand seems amused. "That's unlike you."
"It's – " Daniel can't argue that. "This feels major," he says, unsettled.
"Drink." Armand is gentle with him as he takes a seat beside him, and Daniel takes one of the downers with a swig of scotch. Armand settles in close to him, and speaks, with the gravity he can summon like no one else Daniel has ever met. "What you did was remarkable. You spent time, refined that piece, created something more mature than you've ever written. You should be proud of yourself. That's why we're celebrating."
"Mm." Daniel swirls the scotch in his glass. "Do you really think that, or are you just trying to make me feel good?"
"One day you'll believe me when I talk," Armand says, with a flippant gesture. "Some day far in the future, probably."
Daniel can't help but feel a sting at that. "It's not your fault that you're – " He searches for the word. "Less human than I'm used to. You don't behave the way most people do."
Armand drinks his own scotch, though Daniel's starting to suspect that the drinking does nothing for him and it's all a ruse so it doesn't look like Armand's just watching Daniel get fucked up. "Of course," he says, after considering that.
Daniel can somehow scent something on him, maybe it's the downers talking, but he's more attractive in a rush being so close. "I think." There's no other thing to say. He's been thinking about it for too long not to voice it. "I think I love you. The vampire Armand."
Armand looks him in the face, something starry in his gaze, and he kisses him on the mouth insistently, holds him in place for a second kiss before he breaks away. "I do love you," he says, his fingertips, fingernails grazing Daniel's face. "If you'll believe me."
Daniel has to sit with that thought for a second, the downers kicking in as he waits. He lets the drugs move him. "Yeah," he says, staring into Armand's face. "I believe you, man."
Armand's lips twitch up into a smile, as though he can't believe he's hearing it, and Daniel feels something break inside of him, something cold and ice and splintered. "I know you can do this," Armand says to him, still touching him, somehow holding him captive with the contact. "I believe in you."
"Just propose if you're gonna propose," Daniel says, because he can't stop himself from being an asshole sometimes.
Armand cups his cheek. "Would you have me?" he asks. "For as long as you can stand me?"
Daniel feels a tug as an old question surfaces in his mind. "Would you have me forever?" he returns.
Armand falters, then sets his empty glass aside and thinks for a second. "I won't turn you," he says. "But I will have you."
Daniel stares at him. "Never?" he asks, unable to help from checking.
"Never," Armand says simply.
Daniel breathes out, downs the last of his scotch, and sets his glass aside. "Pour me a drink and buy yourself a ring," he says. "I'm not going anywhere."
Armand surprises him with joy bubbling over in his expression very suddenly. "I won't wear a ring," he says. "Let's seal it with blood, beloved."
Daniel watches as he cuts open his wrist, then extends his wrist out. Daniel takes his wrist to his mouth and starts to drink, his eyes falling closed, the sensation of the blood hitting him hard and sending him spinning out. He doesn't stop until Armand tugs him back by the hair, and he sinks back against the couch before Armand is on top of him, kissing him, kissing along the line of his throat, and Daniel whispers, "Do it."
Armand bites into his throat, the pain is exquisite, and Daniel groans with the satisfaction of vaguely understanding what he's really done and said tonight.
Maybe he'll be able to deal with this tomorrow.
Chapter 8
Notes:
1) A shorter chapter, under 3k. You'll see why I ended it where I did.
2) Daniel figures some things out, in a much more final way.
3) The shit kind of hits the fan this chapter, and everything changes.
4) Armand is not great, and we all have a lot more context for this than Daniel does. (If you don't know this DM trope, I'll explain next chapter.)
Chapter Text
Daniel doesn't say 'I love you' much in the months that follow the first time he says it, not even within the first six months. He starts to struggle with letting go, and Armand lets him try to tread water on his own instead of trying to talk him through it. He must know Daniel isn't ready to talk about it, even if it would probably do him some good to say some of what's going on in his head out loud. Just because Armand can read his mind doesn't mean Daniel is okay keeping it all locked up in there.
By the time eight months have passed, some guilt is starting to set in. It's a familiar feeling. Daniel has disappointed enough lovers in his life, he knows what it feels like. He goes to sleep next to Armand every night, even though he's almost entirely sure Armand doesn't sleep with him all night, and has a series of dreams he doesn't remember right up until he does.
In the dream, he's in the middle of the ocean, floating on his back, nothing to be seen at any point on the horizon. He registers this for just long enough to absorb the strange logic, then all of the sudden the water gives underneath him and he scrambles to swim. There's nowhere to go. There's no land, no boat, not even a watery oasis.
He keeps trying to swim, long enough that even his body, which is used to swimming for long periods of time, gets exhausted, then he starts to slip under. He takes in a mouthful of ocean water, isn't sure why he isn't panicking, keeps treading water, then out of nowhere a hand plunges into the water and hauls him up to the hard surface of a boat.
"Are you all right?" Armand's voice says above him, and he lies there stunned and useless, soaked to the bone. As something tries to jab its way into his mind like an ice pick, he wakes up with a jolt, half-memories of the dream clinging to his mind.
"Shh, shh." Armand runs his fingers into Daniel's hair, and Daniel lets his eyes fall closed again. "You're fine, beloved. Just breathe."
Daniel breathes. For some reason, for the first time in a long time, even as he can remember ocean water sneaking into his lungs, he's really able to breathe.
Maybe it's not so bad to drown.
When Daniel turns 25, it feels like time to reassess everything.
They're in England for a week, just in general and not specifically for Daniel's birthday, as they don't really celebrate that kind of thing. Daniel lies on his back while Armand teases his fingertip along his chest, resting comfortably in bed with him a while after they've fooled around for a bit. He remembers what it was like to struggle with who he was and what Armand meant to him; he remembers the day when the words left his mouth and he started to come to terms with knowing that he wasn't who he ever thought he'd be. He's more mature than he used to be, less pathetically fighting against a tide of affection. It's been five years with Armand, and the two of them are more comfortable with each other than Daniel's ever been with anyone in his entire life.
Armand can sense when he gets into moods like this, and brushes a few kisses along his throat. "Tell me," he says, close against him. "Say it, please."
Daniel laughs aloud at that. "You already know."
"But I like to hear it." Armand strokes a hand down the other side of Daniel's throat. "Please, beloved." Daniel leans in and kisses Armand on the mouth, and Armand kisses him for a pause before pushing him back with a single hand. "Just once," he says.
"'Just once'," Daniel says, not exactly mocking. "It's always 'just once', until you want to hear it again."
"Fine. Twice." Armand is aching for him. It feels good. It's always felt good. "Then I'll leave you alone."
"Don't leave me alone." Daniel cups Armand's chin and says it decisively. "I love you." Armand visibly drifts at hearing it, so Daniel doubles down. "I love you, Armand."
"I love you, too." Armand's gaze nearly burns with it. "I believe you."
That means a lot coming from Armand, who heard the words many times before from men who didn't mean them. Daniel knows enough about Armand's past to know that. "How about this one," he whispers to Armand. "I want you."
"Again," Armand says, badly hiding his delight. "Yes. Of course."
Daniel kisses him, once, again, so many times that it feels like they blur together. Armand breaks the kiss to trail kisses down Daniel's body to reach Daniel's cock. Daniel runs his fingers into Armand's hair as he rides into Armand's motion, shoving his cock into Armand's mouth just a little bit harder, turning him on like the flicker of a pilot light. Armand devotes himself to Daniel's cock in the way that some people lean into religion, a fervor to it that inevitably bleeds into every fuck they might have ever had.
Armand's mouth feels great around him, and Daniel feels great about himself, honestly. That wasn't a given, not five years ago, not even three years ago. Now he realizes how lucky he is. Now he wants to do whatever it takes not to let this go. Fuck if he's a queer. He's happy, and he might be getting one of the best blowjobs anyone on the planet is getting.
"Fuck." The syllable drags out of him, and he closes his eyes, his fingers toying in Armand's hair. "Fuck, you're amazing."
Armand doesn't reply, doesn't look up, just keeps going until Daniel's genuinely worried he'll come from this alone. That wouldn't be the worst thing, but Armand loves being fucked, and Daniel loves fucking him, so he tends to try to hold out. Daniel tugs on his hair, and Armand lifts his head, obviously dazed. "Hands and knees," Daniel says, and shifts away to find the lotion that they bring with them everywhere at this point.
Once Daniel's back, he finds Armand in position, and runs a hand from his shoulders, down his back, over his ass. "Even all those years ago, I knew you were gorgeous," he says, and smacks into Armand's ass, a little sound escaping Armand. "I wanted you right away, that's why I followed you."
Armand grips into the bedding. "What if I'd killed you?"
"I mean, back then, who cares?" Daniel takes a handful of Armand's ass on principle. "I figured I'd be dead before 25."
"You aren't," Armand says, sounds very pleased. "You're with me."
"You're fucking right I am," Daniel says, then smacks Armand's ass one more time. He runs his hand along the faint marks left by the impact, then kisses along each one, spreading him open to lick his asshole, tonguing it, driving Armand crazy with the light and careful contact somewhere so sensitive even for a vampire. Armand melts underneath him, and Daniel craves him so aggressively that he ends up lifting his face, ready to lube up his fingers for just long enough to prepare Armand for his cock.
"Just like that," Armand murmurs, barely audible, as Daniel stretches him out for maybe a minute before he lotions up his cock and presses inside of him. It's less preparation than they'd normally do, but Armand doesn't protest, a very aroused gasp coming out of him. Daniel grips into Armand's shoulder to keep him upright, and once he's gotten most of his cock inside of Armand he starts to fuck him forward, deep and hungry thrusts that rattle him.
"You want this forever, don't you," Daniel says, an open taunt. "You want my cock every day forever, just say it."
"Fuck," Armand says, very much unlike himself, but that's the way he gets with a hard cock up his ass.
"I know you do." Daniel slips his hand into Armand's hair and pulls back, gets his attention. "Don't lie to me, Armand."
Armand doesn't answer that, as Daniel keeps railing him pointedly, and the two of them fall into a rhythm of riding against each other, Daniel's cock fitting just right into Armand's ass. It feels so fucking good. Daniel's had a lot of sex, but there are only a few times that ever felt as good as he gets with Armand. There might be reasons for that neither of them want to get into, but it doesn't really matter.
Daniel touches him lightly, knowing what drives him crazy, any gentleness in the midst of a hard fuck. Armand moans as Daniel's hand starts to graze down to his cock, and the casual teasing works him over so hard that he sounds completely helpless under Armand's touch. Daniel spits into his hand to do this properly, working his cock as he fucks him harder, and Armand chokes in a gasp as he comes with a thrust forward into Daniel's hand. Daniel holds out, fucks him purposefully to get a point across, then finally comes inside of him with a groan and a few thrusts. He leans against Armand, exhausted and laughing, and Armand laughs, too.
They disentangle and clean up, settling in with each other again, then Daniel just says the only thing that's left in his head. "You do want this forever," he says, in half a question. "You do want me."
Armand goes very still next to him. "I want you," he says, to the point.
"That's not what I said." Daniel runs his fingers into Armand's hair. "I asked if you want me forever."
"I can't." It's as simple as that for Armand, apparently. "I can't do what you're asking."
"Why not?" Daniel can't help but be bothered about this. "If you love me, you say you do, you shouldn't be letting me slowly die so you'll never see me again. Or – whatever it is you plan to do when I get old, I don't know."
"I don't care about age." Armand is getting sulky, now. "I can't do it. Stop asking."
"I don't want to get old and die." Daniel's as direct as he can be. "Not if I don't have to. Not if we can both be young and gorgeous forever."
Armand stares ahead at the end of the bed. "I won't," he says, terse.
Daniel can't help but get frustrated. "What's your problem with this? Why can't you just – "
"I know what this does to people." Armand is sniping at him now. "I know the darkness it brings to people. I would never do that to you."
"Fuck darkness." Daniel is losing his grip on this situation. "I just want to be with you."
Armand pushes himself out of bed, stops and pulls himself together, and starts to put on clothes. "Where are you going?" Daniel asks, sitting up more in bed, alarmed. "What are you – " Armand takes his hotel key and pockets it. "Armand," Daniel tries again. "Sit down, let's – "
"Enough," Armand says, and there's some kind of force to it that shuts Daniel up completely, freezing him cold. He leaves Daniel there, and Daniel is left to wonder what the hell he's supposed to do when the person with the most power over the situation they're in just walks away.
He curls up in the bed, silent, alone, and tries not to think about the very real possibility that he just permanently scared away the man he loved. There's no way. Armand would never leave him. Armand loves him. He's said so hundreds of times.
Daniel just breathes in the silence and wills him to come back.
Hours pass, and he doesn't. But he will.
The first day Armand is gone, Daniel stays in the room, like an idiot, hoping Armand will come back. The only reason he knows how much time has passed is that he sees the sun set and wakes to the sunrise. The second day Armand doesn't come back, Daniel makes himself leave the hotel room, goes to get a drink at the nearest bar to try to distract himself, and ends up feeling completely awful after four drinks, which is not very like him. He goes back to the room to get blasted on what supply he's got, taking two of his remaining quaaludes and snorting two lines of coke.
He stays awake, watches TV in the room, and worries about Armand's safety like a total fool for all of two minutes before he passes out in the bed very suddenly.
Daniel wakes up in squirming pain. The terrible feeling from the previous night starts to creep through his veins. It's a kind of dread, but it hurts physically, and he ends up curled up on the bed, worried that he must have got food poisoning from the bar food. The thought process only lasts as long as he can still manage thoughts. After a couple of hours, the pain is so bad it verges on torture. He retches, part of him hoping that throwing up will relieve the pain, but nothing comes out.
He has the horrible feeling that Armand has left him to die. Why he's dying, he doesn't know. It just feels like abandonment at his hour of need. He misses Armand at an intensity that feels like some kind of insanity, especially because Armand has been gone for three fucking days, leaving him alone in a country to try to figure out how to survive on what little he has remaining. Maybe he'll have to stay in England from now on. Maybe he'll die here.
After a night of a frustrated struggle against pain, Daniel just lies still and waits to pass out.
The darkness comes for him as he breathes shallowly against the bed.
Daniel wakes up to Armand's voice. "Yes. That's right." He struggles to focus, but the first thing he sees is Armand's bleeding wrist in front of his face. He doesn't hesitate, takes Armand's wrist in what grip he can manage, and drinks, at first weakly and then greedily. Armand is watching him from above, Daniel can feel it, but he keeps intently drinking Armand's blood, because the more he drinks the more alive he feels again. He has no idea how long it takes before Armand takes a fistful of his hair and yanks him back from his wrist. "That's enough."
It takes Daniel a second to adjust, his heartbeat racing in a very different way, and he rubs a hand over his mouth to try to clear the stickiness of Armand's blood. "Where'd you go?" he asks, dizzily attracted to Armand in a building kind of sensation.
Armand looks down at him, his gaze inscrutable. "I needed some space," he says. "I didn't realize this would happen to you."
Daniel sinks back heavily against the bed, worn out. "What happened?"
"I can't leave you behind like that." Armand might mostly be talking to himself. "I owe this to you. Beloved." He leans down and kisses Daniel's forehead. "I won't do it again," he says, and he definitely seems to be talking to Daniel at this point. "I didn't understand. I understand now."
Daniel isn't sure why he's nearly on the verge of tears. More than anything, he's in love, overwhelmed with it. "Okay," he says. "I love you."
Armand's gaze is soft, and nearly scared. It worries Daniel. "I love you," Armand says, and his voice nearly breaks. "I'll make something for you when we get home. We should go home." He runs his fingers into Daniel's hair, and Daniel lets his eyes fall closed with an ecstatic sort of arch into the contact. "I'm sorry, Daniel, my love. I'm sorry."
"I need you." It's something that would normally be hard for Daniel to say, but it feels important to say now. "Please."
"I'm here," Armand says softly, and runs his hand along Daniel's face. An exhausted kind of smile crosses his face as Armand leans into him. "I'm here. I promise."
"Show me," Daniel says, too fucked up to be properly flirtatious but also too fucked up to resist hitting on Armand at this point. Armand's smile is cautious when Daniel opens his eyes. "What's wrong?" he asks Armand outright.
Armand looks at him, and his expression nearly looks sick. "Don't worry about it," he says gently. "Let me handle things. You rest." He shifts to lie down on the bed beside Daniel, and the two of them sit for a long moment before he sighs and nuzzles close to Daniel. Daniel feels a fuzzy kind of smile cross his face.
It's so good that Armand is back.
Chapter 9
Notes:
1) Some light is shed on what happened in England, and what will continue to happen.
2) Daniel is backing down and coming to terms with more things than you could expect. There's a reason for that.
3) Things equalize. Next chapter, a sea change.
Chapter Text
Once they're home and Daniel is off of the high of Armand's blood, he has a hell of a lot of questions about England. Armand seems to be avoiding him, which is shitty of him to do after abandoning him for days, but he doesn't want to have this conversation just as much as Daniel knows they have to. Daniel finally tracks Armand down to the beach where he lounges on a chair facing the ocean, and Armand doesn't open his eyes as he speaks. "There's another chair over there, you could join me."
Daniel drags the chair over and sits a few inches away from Armand, raring himself up for what needs to happen. "I've got questions."
"I know," Armand says, and shifts against his chair.
"What happened?" That's the big, banner question of it all. "You left and within a day or two I was a dead man."
Armand doesn't hesitate too long before answering. "There are ways in which you are dependent on me. I didn't realize that when I left."
Daniel stares at him in disbelief. "You didn't – you didn't know." He just lets his mouth run. "You left me behind, and you of all people didn't fucking know – "
"Daniel." Armand keeps his tone level. "I needed some space. Please understand."
"You had no idea that was going to happen?" Daniel keeps digging. "You had no idea at all that I might have issues with, what are you even getting at? 'Dependence'?"
Armand's expression goes pained. "My blood," he says. "You've developed a dependence to my blood."
Daniel is having a hard time wrapping his head around this. "We do that maybe once a week at most," he says. "That's enough to, what, make me addicted?"
"Yes." Armand is trying to be gentle with him, Daniel can tell, but it's not working. "I'm being honest with you. There are ways to mitigate this."
"Oh, are there." Daniel can't help but be a little bit crisp. "So I won't feel like my insides are gonna become my outsides if you leave me alone for three days?"
"Daniel." Armand works at pleading with him, now. "Try to understand. I didn't know for sure that this was going to be the effect this had on you."
Daniel sits up straight. "Not for sure?" he asks, stunned. "You knew there was a chance?"
Armand actually turns to look at him now, with those gorgeous, emotional eyes. "Do you hate me?" he asks. "I would understand if you hated me."
Fuck. Daniel just looks at him, helpless. "You should turn me," he says, blunt as he can get. "That would solve this, wouldn't it? Then I could stay here forever?"
Something awful zaps through Armand's gaze, then he stares away. "I told you to stop asking."
Daniel leans over, keeps it pointed. "What happens to me when you throw me away, huh? Do I die? Do I constantly look for a fix I can never find?"
Armand shoves himself out of the chair, then says, "Stop" in a clipped tone that pins Daniel to the beach chair. He stands there as Daniel looks up with fear for the first time in what feels like a very long time, then he shakes his head and makes half a laugh. "If you understood what you were asking, you wouldn't be asking for it. This life is not the dream it appears to be. There is a darkness that takes you by the hand, and you can't – you can't say no." His voice just barely breaks. "I wouldn't do that to you. I know it seems like I'm denying you something, but this – " He gestures at himself. "This power has a cost. A cost I am not capable of exacting, not from you, not from anyone, no matter how much I love you." Something in his gaze jabs Daniel down slightly in the chair, and Daniel realizes he's shaking. "This life is like the ocean," Armand says, his tone brutal. "Deep, unknown, dangerous. I simply won't let you drown." He stalks away towards the house, and Daniel is suddenly free of the grip that held him in his chair, but he stays there, still trembling for a pause.
He doesn't follow Armand back inside the house for a long time, afraid of what he might find if he does.
Daniel has a hard time remembering the timeline of it all: when was the last time he drank Armand's blood before he started to become sick, how long ago was the last time he drank Armand's blood since. The grim reality of it grounds him in his fear. He doesn't want to have to plot this out on a calendar.
Either way, he knows he can't avoid Armand forever. He's known Armand was a monster since the first day they met, that first interview. It shouldn't be breaking him this much to see a dark side to Armand. He's just been so loving, so light, so warm, that it was easy to forget what he really was.
Daniel is almost entirely sure there's no way out. He knows he doesn't want a way out – he loves Armand, this is just a hiccup – but even if he wanted to go, he apparently couldn't. He's attached to Armand for maybe as long as he lives by this blood addiction. The thought depresses him as he lies in the bed alone. Maybe one day Armand will be tired of it all, drain him dry, and toss his unwanted toy out for the servants to dispose of.
Maybe the only sane move is to embrace it, to accept Armand as he is, to make the best of it. He's dug a deep enough hole for himself, and eventually once you've dug your own grave you can't be mad when you're buried in it. This thought crosses his mind, morbid as the rest of it, then he looks up with a jolt at the sight of movement into the room, knowing the servants rarely engage with him. Of course, it's Armand.
"I wondered if you'd be ready to talk to me." Armand stands there, dark and beautiful, and Daniel feels himself start to bend. A smile twitches up the corner of Armand's mouth. "Or, possibly, forgive me."
Daniel pulls himself out of the bed so as to not be caught literally flat on his back, stationing himself a handful of inches away from Armand. "What am I forgiving you for?" he asks, keeping his distance.
Armand doesn't hesitate. "My temper. I apologize. It's a difficult topic, one I've never been good at discussing. I hope you might understand my point of view."
Daniel wishes he wasn't being drawn in by this. Sometimes he wonders how much Armand is pulling him in by means he doesn't understand. "What's your point of view?"
Armand looks at him, and Daniel feels freshly awash with a kind of stumbling feeling he doesn't understand. "You don't know what you're asking. If you knew, you wouldn't ask. It's an immature thing, to assume it's worth the downfall."
Daniel doesn't understand why he's as emotional as he is, but maybe this is for the best. "There's never any chance of you doing it."
Armand just barely hesitates. "No," he says.
Daniel senses blood. "He turned you when you were about to die."
Armand's gaze tightens. "I don't want to talk about that situation."
Daniel puts his hands up. "Fine. You know what? Fine. You say it's fucked up, man, I'll believe you. You say you don't want to put me through that, I don't think you're lying to me. If you ever change your mind, we can talk about it. Does that sound fair to you?"
Armand tilts his head, and Daniel's head swims. "I love you," he says to Daniel. "I ask this one thing."
Daniel wishes it was easier to shut up the voice in his head that's telling him to push, but there's a strong part of him trying to push back on that, telling him to just make peace. It's an uncharacteristic enough feeling that he feels the need to take it seriously. "I can do that," he says. "I love you, too."
A shadow of a smile crosses Armand's face. "Would you be interested in entertaining me for a while?" he asks. "Whatever you ask."
That makes Daniel start to smile. "I think I can manage that," he says, and beckons Armand to cross the distance between them. "Kiss me," he orders Armand, who pulls him close by the back of the neck into a fierce kiss. Maybe it's some kind of insanity, but Daniel doesn't care about anything that came before this as long as he gets this. Maybe it's lust, maybe it's love. He wouldn't know.
Daniel gets Armand's clothes off of him with a handful of hurried moves, then bends him over the bed. It comes with the same immensely satisfying pulse of feeling so powerful over someone this ancient, while knowing deep down that Armand could kill him in an instant. He chooses to let Daniel do this instead, and that should take away from the power of it, but it doesn't. He's so enamored with Daniel that he'll let him do nearly anything. That's its own kind of power.
Armand is perfectly tense underneath him, and Daniel strokes his hand over Armand's ass, waiting for him to tense more in preparation for any kind of smack, only to yank him firmly against his hips, still fully clothed and denying Armand. "Do you want me to make you come?" he asks Armand, his touch delicate on Armand's skin.
"Yes." Armand already sounds very hungry. "Please."
Daniel runs his thumb along Armand's hip. "Why should I?"
Armand shifts up against him, desperate. "You want to. I know you want to."
"Sure. But what if I didn't?" Daniel runs a hand down his back, pulling a shiver out of him. "Maybe I fuck you, get myself off, and leave you as you are."
"If that's what you'd like." Armand doesn't sound convincing, but maybe he's not trying to be. "Whatever you'd like, Daniel."
Daniel laughs at that. "Wouldn't it be fun to just make me do what you want?" he asks. "Maybe you're already doing it."
Armand shifts. "No," he says decisively. "Your mind is your own."
Daniel isn't sure he believes that, but right now he's sort of blurring out with lust for Armand as it is. "I want to fuck you until you lose control," he says, breathless with it. "Fuck you up so badly you can't even talk in my fucking head."
Armand makes the faintest sound where he's rested against the bed. "Then do it," he says. "I'm at your mercy."
Daniel shifts away from him, taking off his clothes, tosses the lotion on the bed beside Armand as half a taunt. "Right to the main event, you look too good like this." He's already so fucking hard, at least halfway after talking himself into it. He spreads Armand open, fingers him deep and with intense focus, and Armand is vibrating at just the right frequency. He torments Armand a little by holding out, but there's only so long he can go without finally getting his cock inside of him. He lotions them both up well enough to last for a while, starts to press his cock inside of him, the tip of it enough to make Armand release the slightest tremor; oh, he wants it.
The temptation is too great as he gets deep inside of Armand, and he skates a hand up his back to reach into his hair and yank back. "Let go," he says, even more of a taunt. "I'd love to fucking see it." He starts to fuck him forward, still gripping into his hair, controlling him firmly with a hand tight in his hip. It's a good start.
Armand is trying to maintain his composure, for some reason. "I love you," he says.
"Good." Daniel doesn't care that he's coming off as callous right now; that's part of the point. Armand feels so good wrapped around him, sometimes it feels absurd. "Can you handle it? Not being in control?"
"I don't," Armand says, faltering, and he at least sounds scrambled as Daniel fucks him at a steady pace. "What do you want?"
Daniel smacks a hand into his ass, and rails him harder against the bed; Armand breaks into a few moans. "Talk to me," he says. "In my head. Whatever you want."
It comes much slower to him than Daniel was expecting. You feel so good, Daniel.
"Finally." Daniel could do this for literal hours. He will, if he has to. He focuses on scrambling Armand even more than he already has, shifting him back against his cock so he has access to Armand's cock, and spits into his hand to wrap his hand around it. Armand moans, a much less controlled sound now, and Daniel jerks his cock just the way he knows Armand likes to take it. "Try again," he says, outright fucking with Armand now.
"What?" Armand asks, whacked out on all of this like an addict on quaaludes. "I just want to – "
Daniel laughs above him, maybe just as fucked up. "What?"
Anything. Armand places it into his head, and Daniel's eyes close as he works Armand over. They stay entwined like that, Daniel's cock slipped entirely inside of Armand's ass after long enough as he keeps jerking Armand with just the right grip, then Armand starts to actively tremble.
"Beg me," Daniel says, and Armand just groans, riding back into his cock and forward into his grip. "Talk to me, Armand, say something."
"I, I don't – " Armand arches into the grip into his hair. "Fuck," he breathes.
It's so hot Daniel can barely handle it. He doubles down, fucks Armand just how he's always indicated he's liked it, spitting into his hand again to get Armand off. Armand melts down, comes with a thrust forward into Daniel's hand, and Daniel shoves his face into the bed as he fucks him until he comes inside of him with a few hard thrusts. He leans up against Armand as they both recover.
"What was that?" Armand asks, and it seems like a genuine question.
"That was me fucking you until your brain melted down," Daniel says, loving being his close to him, practically glowing with it against all of his pride. "How'd you like it?"
"You're incredible," Armand says, and doesn't seem to have any issues being stifled by Daniel right now. "I love you."
"Yeah, I know." Daniel can't keep the smile off of his face or out of his tone. "I love you, too."
They stay like that for a second or two, then Armand shifts, indicating he'd like to get up, and Daniel pulls out of him and away from him to free him. Daniel climbs onto the bed, and Armand joins him, kisses him on the mouth and a few times on the face for fun. Daniel wonders what he was so upset about before. Everything feels so right now.
Armand kisses his cheek and pats the other, the tiniest smile on his mouth, and it makes Daniel feel insanely good.
When Armand presents Daniel with the box after Daniel's dinner, Daniel keeps a smile off of his face, playing it cool. "You never do this," he says to Armand. "You just put whatever you buy in our room for me to find."
"This is different." Armand is studying him as he takes the box. "Go on."
Daniel opens the box, and isn't sure what he's looking at. He draws the necklace out of the box, holds it up to the light so he can look more closely at it, and whether the red is part of the glass or something behind the glass of the pendant is impossible to tell. There's something scratched on the outside, and Armand breaks the silence between them as Daniel studies the gift. "I'd like you to wear this from now on. Anywhere. Consider it a favor to me."
"Huh." Daniel looks up at Armand, measuring him. "Is this a commitment thing?"
"Not exactly," Armand says, then gently takes the pendant from Daniel's hands and moves to put it around his neck. Daniel feels weird about wearing a pendant, but Armand tucks it under his shirt lovingly, and Daniel allows himself to accept doing something that might not be particularly masculine, considering the circumstances. He peers under his shirt to observe what it looks like on himself, and Armand has a smile in his tone when he speaks up. "Do you trust me?"
What a question. Daniel sends him a critical look. "Any reason for asking?"
Armand leans back and relaxes. "I like to hear it."
Daniel rolls his eyes. "I let you put jewelry on me," he says in a very incisive deadpan. "Obviously I trust you."
Armand flashes a smile at that. "I just want you to be happy." He pushes himself up. "I was thinking we could go to Shanghai this week."
Daniel sometimes can't believe this is his life. "Yeah, let's." That lights the faintest spark behind Armand's beautiful eyes, and Daniel is a little dizzy at the sight of the look being fixed on him. "I was gonna write – you mind?"
Armand looks very satisfied in a shift. "No, Daniel, I don't. Go on."
"Great," Daniel says, leans over and kisses Armand on the mouth to make a point he doesn't even know how to put into words, and peers through the collection of tapes he has to pick just the right ones to go over. He picks three very carefully, takes them with the recorder to the study, and listens to all three, stopping periodically to take notes on each as he goes. Once he's filled up a lot of pages with notes, he loads the typewriter up with paper and starts to type on instinct.
The followers of the Age of Aquarius were never going to sustain for a lot of reasons, but one big one was the movement's increasing reliance on illegal drugs and the government's freakout that a group of counterculture warriors were flouting common beliefs on whether or not it was an immoral thing to find bliss in a bottle or a joint.
Daniel peers through his notes and writes. He contemplates getting a cup of coffee a while in, but doesn't move, too wedded to what he's doing right now. Paulina didn't try to make excuses to me. She tied off her arm and injected the heroin right in front of me. She had her reasons. You never know a person's reasons. Sometimes there are deep traumas that no amount of preaching about Jesus Christ can heal. Sometimes they've forgotten a life before it all and don't know what it would mean to step away. Sometimes it's just an automatic motion: get a new bottle, replenish the bag, roll another joint, because that's what you do.
Something is stirring inside of him, and he's not sure what to do besides let it out onto the page. Some addictions are visceral. I spoke to a man named Nathaniel in New York City, and he told me about what it felt like to get wired. "It's like I'm asleep, then I do it, and I wake up," he said. "I don't remember what it's like to be outside of it anymore. I don't know what you see from the outside, man. I'm just living my life."
Daniel lifts his hands from the keyboard and thinks, his mind racing too hard to pin down a single thought. Something feels strange about this. He knows his own issues; from the first minute he got his hands on any substance that took him away from his life, he's been this way. There's still something different about what's happening right now. He sits back against the chair, breathes, then there's a knock on the door. He stiffens. "Yeah," he calls.
"It's me." Armand's on the other side of the door. "May I come in?"
Sure, why the hell not. "Yeah," he says, a very different take on the word now. Armand slips inside of the room and takes a seat on the other side of the desk. He starts to put away what he's just written, and talks while he moves. "What's going on?"
Armand seems upbeat. "It's been several hours. I thought I'd check on you. Did you want to take a break?"
"You know I did." Or, at least, Armand could know if he tried. Daniel looks at him. "Just ask what you're gonna ask."
"Hm." Armand looks amused. "Can I read it?"
Daniel levels a look at him, then sighs. "It's not finished yet."
Armand is unmoved, focused on what he wants in the way he often is. "I'd like to know."
"You always dig into my business. You read my mind, isn't that enough?" Daniel tilts his head away and scoffs. "You know what, fine. You want the finer details, who am I to deny you." He pushes the sheaf of paper in Armand's direction. "Just don't read it around me."
"I'll meet you in the living room soon," Armand says as he stands with the half-written article, and it sounds like a sincere promise for something as simple as it is. Daniel very suddenly aches to kiss him, but doesn't do anything, and Armand withdraws. Daniel fetches himself some coke and does two lines while he waits for Armand.
Armand returns, without the article. "It's very real," he says, his eyes searching Daniel's face for something. "Are you – do you feel well?"
Daniel stares at him. "What?" What kind of question is that? "Yeah, I feel great."
Armand has that look on his face like he's taking Daniel apart with his gaze. "I see," he says. "Yes. I'm here for you, Daniel."
"Just get high with me." Daniel knows by now that the coke does nothing for Armand, but drinking from Daniel when he's high on coke does, so he shifts back on the couch, baring his throat. Armand doesn't resist, climbs on top of him, stays close and teasing for a long moment, long enough for Daniel to be turned on by Armand being so tight against him, then he drops kisses along Daniel's throat only to bite into it with a wild kind of fierceness.
Daniel reels, his mind sinking as Armand drinks from him, just holding back enough to keep Daniel upright, then Armand shifts gears to bite into his wrist to direct it to Daniel's mouth to feed himself. Both parts of their ritual drive Daniel to an insanity he can't imagine ever giving up, a high he thinks he might never be able to replicate with anything or anyone he's ever known.
He doesn't know how to give up. He doesn't know how to move on. He doesn't want to.