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Lulled by the rhythmic flow of Daniel’s keyboard, all six foot of him wrapped around a battered teddy bear under a baby blue blanket, Armand had been dozing off for quite some time now, falling in and out of sleep, making the cutest little annoyed noises every time he woke up. Anytime his eyes opened, he tried to feign interest in the movie he had vehemently insisted Daniel put on for the sixth time that week, though at almost five in the morning it was proving progressively more difficult.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Daniel laughed under his breath, running his fingers through the kid’s curls as soon as he had a clear vision of his face. He closed his laptop: Armand was chewing on one of his stuffed animal’s ear, his unfocused eyes half closed, which meant he had slipped in that fuzzy headspace that made him candy-soft, flower-delicate. Not Daniel’s maker anymore, but Daniel’s kid; not the history he had endured, but the present Daniel would hand-feed him. It made Daniel’s hair stand on end, goosebumps blooming all over his body, with how powerful it made him feel, how needed, how important. No one could steal his place, for in Armand there was a space shaped like him.
Armand reminded him of a cat, both a prey and a predator. He had perfected the art of the belly trap, with which he lured his victims as he looked at them with pleading eyes, marbled with helplessness, only so they could get mauled to death with a smile on their lips. Daniel himself had fallen for it more times he’d care to admit, he had collected scratches that took months to heal; but in what other way could Armand really understand he was safe if not showing him a bloody arm, a skinless face but a living, beating heart? Much like feral cats that are given unlimited access to warm blankets and treats, Armand was starting to understand he didn’t need his walls up all the time, he didn’t need to hunt for every morsel of food and affection, because an infinity supply was right in front of him, when he was ready. And so, little by little, one step forward, two steps back, Armand started showing Daniel his belly without hurting him, even if only for a few seconds at a time, even when he had his fangs into Daniel’s hand as he purred, electric and anxious with hope.
Among the softer layers of Armand’s real core, the one on the sofa right now was the one Daniel cherished the most because of how fragile it was, how easy it would be to entirely crush him, because it had taken Daniel so much time to learn how to care for a frightened child with an infinite thirst for love, which could curdle into a hunger for blood and death and terror all at the same time. It had taken him by surprise, how eager he had been to improve in something that came all but natural to him. He wanted to see the most hidden of Armand’s crevices, hear him speak in riddles and have all the answers, he craved to be the only who utterly, completely understand him, down to his smallest, most insignificant detail; he wanted to understand, to find the remains of an ancient, legendary civilisation as he dug and dug and dug, the first to do so, his name written in the stars and on Armand’s tongue.
But most of all, he loved Armand. He wanted him ripped open and bloody not to kill him at last but to bring him back to life. There was a selfish part in all of this, of course (to be the centre of a monster’s world, his sun, his god - Daniel’s addict brain lit up like a Christmas tree every time Armand looked at him with his eyes swimming in hope and trust, not a hair of fear), but most of all it was that he loved Armand more than he would have thought possible. He accepted to nurture him, to cup his hands around him like a child would with a butterfly, because he deeply, deeply loved Armand.
He put the laptop on the coffee table and patted Armand’s bottom. “Time for your nap, bug.” Not Arun, not Amadeo, but his own little thing. “You’re tired,” he added quickly before Armand could protest about it absolutely not being time for his nap.
But protest he did anyway. “Movie,” he whined as he snuggled closer to Daniel, tightening his grip around his teddy bear. He didn’t even open his eyes this time, he just wanted to play, to prolong the game as long as he could.
(was it a game? Was it the truth, pale and naked and breathing? Was it a disconnected part of Armand, or was it just him, for Daniel’s eyes only?)
“You can finish it later, when you wake up.” As cute as his kid was being, Daniel had already had more than enough sleep-deprived Armand to be wary to give in.
Armand pouted, because of course he did, why else should he be given those pretty big eyes and that cute little mouth if not to pout like a doll? “Not tired, daddy,” he said around a yawn.
“You can’t keep your eyes open, bug.” Daniel sighed, incredibly fond. “You know, daddy could use a nap as well.”
That, of course, perked Armand’s attention (such a daddy’s boy). He squinted at Daniel, then nodded with a soft smile, then frowned. “Here?” he asked, his voice clearly stating he would not be pleased with having his nap on the sofa of all places, even if Daddy was with him.
“Nope, in your room.”
There was a guest room in their apartment that they turned it into Armand’s room for when he felt (was?) young. It had a queen sized bed for all the stuffed animals his little heart desired, a bookshelf overflowing with children encyclopaedias, puzzles, young adult novels and colouring books; and behind them, some adult materials daddy supposedly didn’t know about, for when Armand wanted the bad kind of his daddy’s attention - comics and videotapes and sex toys he sometimes used while Danny watched. (“You’re too little for that, kiddo, how many times do I have to tell you?” Daniel would say as he spanked him, and Armand would squirm and kick his feet on the bed, he would snottily protest he was big, bigger than daddy, even!, only so Daniel would spank him harder for being a brat.)
With a dopey grin slowly expanding on his face, from his mouth to his ears, Armand nodded. “My room.” He looked down at his teddy bear, then up at Daniel. “Danny?”
“Danny will nap with us, if he’s sleepy.”
Armand giggled, his face naked with delight. Oh, to be catered to, to be indulged to this impossibly perfect degree. Daniel could fall into addiction again, completely engulfed by the high of Armand’s trust. “He is, daddy.”
“Yeah, I bet he’s so tired after a long day of cuddles and smooches.”
With a soft smile, Armand nudged Daniel’s thigh like a cat. “You’re silly.”
“Just as much as you are, bug. C’mon, let’s go to bed.”
Armand pursed his lips, as if he was calculating his next twenty moves, like the most cunning mastermind - pity there was an adorable illustration of Thumper on his top, otherwise he would have looked very convincing. “If daddy carries me.”
“Oh? I thought you weren’t tired?”
“Mh-mh, I am. You said.”
“I did say that, and you always listen to daddy, don’t you?”
“Mh-mh. I’m a good boy,” Armand smiled, bright and warm, and Daniel had never been as glad to be dead already, otherwise a heart attack would have killed him on the spot.
“Indeed. Hop on, kiddo.”
At last Armand listened, climbing on Daniel and resting his chin on his shoulder. Daniel picked Danny up while Armand gave him sleepy little kisses up and down his throat.
In his kid room, Armand yawned, hand in front of his mouth like a polite little boy. A part of Daniel found it adorable, another part of him wanted Armand rude, not worried about etiquette, nor caring about being good, being what he thought Daniel wanted out of fear of being cast aside. He wanted Armand raw, pulsing and bleeding and howling.
There were times when he wondered (sometimes against his will) if this layer of Armand still bore any resemblance to Arun or Amadeo, if Marius had ever had the chance to hold such a precious, delicate little bird. What songs would he sing for his master? How sweet was the fluttering of his little heart? Never sweeter than what Daniel heard, his adoration never more darling than the one Daniel held in the palm of his hands.
He kissed Armand’s forehead and asked him what pyjamas he wanted to sleep in. Armand scrunched his nose, tilting his head, and put one of Danny’s paws on his lips as if in deep thoughts. He then grabbed both paws, moving them so they took hold of the hem of Daniel’s t-shirt. “Pjs.”
Well, of course. What a spoiled little thing he was - but who could blame him for spoiling his little boy? Everything Daniel had (everything he was) was Armand’s, always had been, always would be.
“Alright, honey, arms up. Put Danny on the bed, there’s a love.”
Quiet, malleable with sleep like warm butter, Armand let himself be undressed without a fuss. It hadn’t been always an easy task; much like a feral cat, Armand would bite and scratch and hide under the bed if Daniel handled him roughly, if he sighed in annoyance or said the wrong thing - and Daniel had a fucking Ph.D. in saying the worst possible thing at the worst possible times. Endless tears were shed, and screaming matches and slammed doors and broken glasses were a weekly occurrence. Armand wasn’t easy to understand, and never made that much of an effort to be understood, though Daniel believed it was because Armand had lost core pieces of himself in the maze of his past, not because he wanted to be difficult; he craved to be seen, to be discovered and rebuilt like a lost city.
And thank fuck Daniel was as persistent as a man-made plague and an asshole who needed to be always right. So he tried and tried and tried, until all that was left was Armand, Amadeo, Arun, the three of them fused in one lost little boy, who wasn’t so lost anymore. Arun, Amadeo, Armand; baby, bunny, bug.
“All comfy, bug?”
Armand nodded as he inhaled Daniel through his t-shirt. “Legs,” he said, giving a fussy little kick.
“Want me to take your pants off?”
“Mh-mh.”
“Sure thing, bun. Sit on the bed for me.”
There was always something alluring in Armand, in the wishing well of his voice, in the calculated ways he posed his body, as if a puppeteer of himself; but when little he was clumsy, he moved in the world like a fawn still covered in its mother’s blood, curious and open and docile, his eyes as soft as caramel, always focused on Daniel, Daniel and only Daniel. One could get used to be worshipped to such an intense, scorching degree.
Sitting on the edge of the bed as daddy folded his clothes (who would’ve thought Daniel Molloy would be the kind of parent that folded clothes right away? Had he raised a 500 year old monster from the beginning, maybe he would have become a good father the first time around), Armand chewed mindlessly on Danny’s ear. When he started softly sucking on its fur with a little sniffle, uncoordinated fingers tapping on its tummy, Daniel told him he could have a snack before bed, because the tapping meant he was unsettled, maybe because of the scattered remains of a nightmare, heavy as drenched wool, maybe some obscure machinations of his heart, speaking in thorns, murmuring lies with laboured breath, and Daniel couldn’t let him go to bed like that. Like warm milk settles an upset toddler, warm blood could settle a wandering heart.
“Snack?”
“Yes, bug, snack. Wanna feed from me?”
Little fangs caught in Danny’s soft tummy, Armand let out a breathy little laugh. He ate more when he was small, even if only because daddy said so, so Daniel tried to sneak in as many feedings as he could, like he should have tried to make his daughters eat more vegetables. He certainly couldn't raise his kid only on pre-packaged blood bags, he needed something organic, fresh from the source.
“Mh-mh. Daddy’s yummy.”
What did he say about him, that Daniel felt insanely good at being described as if he were a candy bar? But he was so happy about it, about being his kid’s favourite juice box. Armand had told him he could taste notes of New York and bad decisions, and when he was young he thought his dad tasted like his favourite videogame, whatever the hell that meant. Kids these days, uh?
“Lay down, kiddo, I’ll nurse you.”
For a moment, Armand looked transfixed, like one of those Catholic statues he was so fond of, with eyes ablaze and slightly parted lips, waiting for a few drops of holy water. “Too big to nurse,” Armand mumbled, looking at his feet, wriggling his toes in expectation and longing, painfully skinless, ready for predators to eat him alive.
Daniel brushed a curl out his forehead to kiss it. How darling, how tempting, this fragile version of his demon, the naked trust and honesty that clothed him like ornate necklaces and intricate spiderwebs. “You’re small enough.”
Armand scrunched his nose, considering if daddy was telling the truth. He nodded, gracefully conceding that yes, he was indeed just a little thing, and as such he could nurse from Daddy’s chest, because Daddy said so.
“Good boy.”
Daniel sat down on the bed, and patted his lap - I meant what I said, I want you to do this, you’re allowed, you don’t need to think, I’ll think for you. Armand laid down on his side, his torso draped on Daniel, breathing him in before sinking his fangs in Daniel’s left pec, his bite surprisingly ferocious for such a sleepy little thing. He drank in big gulps, not holding back, not worrying about tidiness, about how he looked. Daniel petted his head, proud of his little boy for being open about his needs and desires, for being honest. A wonderful mix of arousal and tenderness swirled in his stomach, the back of his throat tingling in awe.
“Good, baby, take everything you want.” Hand moving from his cheek to his waist to his leg, fingertips light and sweet on his skin, seeds of honey and molasses dripping on his thigh. “You’re okay, bunny.”
Armand nodded, eyelids heavy, comforted by the steady rhythm of the suckling, by the warmth of Daniel’s blood. Unconsciously, he started rubbing his thighs together, his jittery fingers finding their hiding spot between them. He pressed his groin against his palm in minute thrusts.
He sunk deeper in his dad, provoking a wounded hiss from him. His head shot up in horror, eyes enormous and already wet, afraid he had hurt his dad in some irremediable way.
But his heavy eyes met a welcoming smile, his damp cheek a delicate finger. “It’s okay, bunny, I’m alright, you took me by surprise is all.” With a hand behind his neck, Daniel gently pressed Armand’s mouth on his chest. “You can take everything of me. I’m all yours, baby.”
Armand blinked. “Mine.”
“Yours. You’re okay, little one.”
Armand blinked again, opened his mouth like a wolf, and sunk into Daniel once again, deeper and sweeter. Daniel caressed the delicate shell of his ear, the timid curls that bloomed down his neck; he followed the shivers that made Armand whimper, drawing with soft pastels the lines of his waist. He tickled his side just lightly, just enough to make Armand wriggle.
Armand pressed the tip of his tongue on Daniel’s nipple in the same clumsy way he was trying to chase his pleasure - such a fussy, slippery thing - against his hand.
“You like your old man’s tits, uh, bun?” Daniel teased, stroking his cheek, basking in the sunset warmth that was blooming on his skin.
His darling kid hummed. He left little kisses all over Daniel’s chest, blood trickling down and pooling on his navel. “Movie, daddy?” He yawned. “Not tired anymore.”
Daniel laughed. “Lay down for me, kiddo. If you’re still up in five minutes, then we’ll go back to the living room.”
“I’ll get sleepy,” Armand pouted. He tapped his foot like a nervous bunny. “Not fair.”
“Want to sit on my lap instead?”
He hadn’t yet finished to say the last word that a lapful of Armand was purring against his neck. “Warm,” the kid smiled, legs lazily curled around Daniel’s waist. Daniel could feel his cock half hard in his boxers, twitching from time to time, whining for attention. He stroked Armand’s back.
“You happy, baby?”
“Happy,” said baby hummed, rubbing his nose on Daniel’s neck. Daniel breathed him in, the soft sugary vanilla scent of the shampoo he favoured when he was young; Daniel had given him a bath before the movie, which meant an hour of Armand playing with rubber ducks and rabbits and tigers as he told gruesome Grimm-like fairytales about them, intricate and full of deep lore from a number of baths given in the past few months. It was so endlessly endearing for Daniel to witness all the stages of his younger self, to be able to give him all the space and time he needed to express them all. Daniel doubted that he could spend hours in the bathtub telling stories when he was actually twelve.
(“We should write a book with your stories, baby,” Daniel managed to sneak in between a final battle and a beheading.
That was enough to stop the kid from babbling on; he turned his head around, stardust of all of his stories shining in his eyelashes.“Yeah?”
Armand never actually said Yeah like Daniel, only when he was little, and it was the cutest fucking thing ever. Daniel splashed water on his stupidly cute little face like a child with a crush. “Yeah.”)
“You’re one happy bunny, aren’t you?”
“Happy bun,” Armand nodded, nuzzling his neck like a cat. “Happy bug, too.”
Daniel burst into a kind of laughter that seized him completely, and he swore he could hear his dead heart sing. He engulfed Armand into a tight embrace, kissing him everywhere - nose, cheeks, forehead, eyelids, as Armand giggled, voice full of pink bubbles, wriggling under the assault.
“Tickles!” he shrieked, and the light of his voice filled the room.
When Armand was this genuinely, openly happy, Daniel wished he could stop time so Armand could experience nothing else but this weightless, unburdened life. (He actually did, once when they were out and he had just told one of his godawful dad jokes that must hae caught Armand off-guard because he started laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes, and Daniel had to fuck him about it right there on the park bench.)
He was laughing so hard his fangs had descended. When Daniel poked them with his fingertips, Armand widened his mouth to offer a better view of them, and a little flame of hunger sparked between them, solid and rough under their tongues.
“You’re so little you have the teeth of a kitten.”
“Bunny, daddy.”
“Bunnies don’t have canines,” Daniel pointed out between kisses, big and small, pecks on the cheeks and on the lips. Armand’s kisses were sugar candies melting down Daniel’s throat.
“Vampire bunnies do.”
“Ah, of course, you’re right. I should brush up my zoology knowledge.”
“Danny and I can teach you,” Armand nodded solemnly, as if an university professor. Daniel pictured him in smart clothes with round eyeglasses, giving lectures with Danny in his arms, the teddy wearing the same clothes and glasses as him.
Armand was pressed against Daniel’s chest, wriggling like a happy little goldfish, his stomach flush against his dad’s. Daniel sighed as he put his hands on it, rubbing little circles with his hands.
“Look at you,” he said with pride, “your little tummy’s all round. You love drinking from your dad, don’t you honey?”
The first time Armand fed from him was when they finally met again two years after Daniel’s turning, and since then he took every opportunity to do it again. He would offer him his bleeding wrist while they were watching a movie, just before bed like a cup of warm milk, just before a hunt so Armand’s mouth was still full of him when he drank from others, and he would know Daniel’s blood was the best one, the only one for him.
But what Daniel loved the most was when Armand let himself be fed just about after the point of fullness, when his stomach was slightly tense, imperceptibly hurting, his skin more than warm, almost feverishly hot, his eyes glassy with comfort, pearly moans of contentment rolling out of his mouth.
Sometimes they fucked, the pressure of Daniel’s hands never leaving his bulge, sometimes they didn’t, but Daniel wouldn’t, couldn’t, stop touching him nonetheless, kissing and nibbling all over, thinking in repeat I feed him, I keep him alive, I filled him to the brim and he let me, I stuffed him full and he’s glad I did, he loves me so much he lets me fatten him up like a lamb for the slaughter, I control his pleasure and he lets me give him pleasure through a full stomach, I feed him, I’m his life. It all made him deliriously drunk.
“Mh-mh. I love my dad.”
With aching tenderness, Daniel cradled his face in his hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks in lazy circles. As they kissed, and Armand’s moans echoed in his mouth, Daniel’s strokes went slowly from his boy's neck to his thighs, where he pinched them, and slid into his boy’s briefs, making him yelp. “I can feel your love for me, little one.”
Armand whined, his voice going from a childish high pitch to a honey-covered moan, trembling with desire. “Your fault,” he pouted with just an adorable drop of brattiness.
“It is, isn’t it? My boy is too little to understand, and I took advantage of that. What a terrible father I am.”
Armand shook his head. “Daddy’s the best.”
“Am I?”
Daniel gave a gentle squeeze to Armand’s cock, and Armand pushed against his hand with pleading eyes and a tempting mouth.
“Want daddy to make you feel good, bug?”
A sharp inhale of air, then the sweetest little “Yes, please.”
“What a polite little boy you are. Lift your hips for me, baby.”
Armand whined like a wounded hummingbird, though he was quick to obey when Daniel explained it was only so daddy could lower his panties, to which Armand with another strangled noise. You’re a doll, and dolls wear panties, don’t they? Daniel had told him before.
“Hands behind your back now, you know how excited you get, and we don’t want you hurting yourself with your little kitten claws, do we?”
“But it’s hard, daddy.”
“Do you need my help?”
“Please, daddy.”
Daniel pinned the kid’s wrist on the small of his back, and it was like a strike of a beloved whip for him.
“Daddy,” the poor thing mewled when Daniel wrapped his free hand around his cock, back arched and throat exposed, the echo of his voice bleeding into Daniel’s bones. His kid, his lover, his Armand.
Daniel nibbled on Armand’s neck, alternating between licking and sucking. Armand kept whining like a lost child, like everything he knew had evaporated from his brain and there was nothing else in the universe but what Daniel intended to give him.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, voice rough at the edges but soft in the middle, as the hold on Armand’s wrists got harder, afraid that otherwise his kid could slip away. “I’ve got you, you can let go, your dad’s here, you’re safe.”
The pitch of his baby’s strained voice was between Armand and Amadeo, the quality of it between burgundy silk and cream linen, wrapping around Daniel’s throat like a scarf. Daniel squeezed his cock, and Armand - only Armand - jerked his hips as he called for him, eyes wide open, ribcage cracked open, pearls of hiccups mixed with pink buttons of laughter.
“Look at you, fuck,” groaned Daniel, letting his hips thrust against Armand’s ass, and the whimpering sighs that trembled their way out of his mouth went straight to Daniel’s cock.
He flipped them over, so Armand (yelping, squirming) was laying on his back, ankles crossed on the small of his dad’s back, one hand clasped over his mouth, stretched open around his rich, obscene moaning. With his back arched, the roundness of his stomach was even more prominent, and Daniel slipped his free hand under Armand's t-shirt, pushing a finger into his bellybutton with almost cruel force as he pumped his cock. Armand’s legs twitched like a bunny’s, his trembling little voice dispersing in the air in thick, soft waves. Oh, his kid would be the (second) death of him.
“I love you,” said one of them, or maybe both, or maybe they had surpassed vampiric laws and spoken into each other’s mind. “I love you, I love you.”
When Armand came, there was a thin layer of blood on his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy. When he was little, he was so in touch with his body everything got magnified, and his orgasm always took him by surprise, like a hurricane. Daniel had no idea whether it was an affectation, but he seemed sincerely so very young. He looked at Daniel, eyes wide and sweet, as if wondering if his body worked as it should, if whatever came out of him was supposed to be there, coating his stomach.
Daniel licked a long stripe for his bellybutton to the tip of his nose. 8uy
Armand squeaked like a chew toy. “Dirty, daddy.”
“It’s not, angel, nothing that comes from you can ever be dirty.”
Armand blinked a few times. Always a tricky part, reassuring this skittish creature. Would he start crying, feeling the weight of his past? Would he get aroused again, as he often did? Would he get angry, annoyed and confused by his own thoughts and feelings and a body that didn’t ever make sense?
But “Okay” was all he said, all he had floating around his head. He scrunched his nose like a bunny, and a deep frown appeared.
Daniel brushed a bloody lock off his damp forehead. “You alright, baby boy?”
A pause, then a sniffle. He was, though not completely, and they couldn’t have that, could they?
“Hug?”
Sitting with his back straight against the headboard, Daniel scooped Armand up. His breath was heavy and laboured, not from pain, but from feeling so little, just a tiny bug in a cocoon Daniel had spun for him. Daniel didn’t need to read his mind to hear I’m safe, my dad’s here, the world is wide and open and big and scary, but my dad is here. I’m small and vulnerable, but my dad’s here, nothing will hurt me, no one will make me bleed, everything will be fine, because my dad’s here.
“Look at you, my gorgeous boy.” He held his baby’s face in his hands. Armand looked at him like he hung the moon. “You’re a sleepy little bunny, aren’t you? Daddy’s tired you all out.”
Armand hummed in agreement, all he had the strength for, his face hidden in Daniel’s chest - but his breath was calm, the understated notes of his voice clean and light.
“I’ll move us to go under the covers so we can start our nap.”
When another sleepy hum came from around his left nipple, Daniel manoeuvred them until he somehow got them both the thick duvet - and he snatched Danny from the floor before Armand could realise his best friend had been forgotten for a meaningless handjob.
Immediately Armand curled around his teddy bear, and then squished it between Daddy and him.
“Nottenotte, papà,” he murmured in Italian, halfway asleep already. Night-night, dad.
“Nottenotte, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised even if Armand didn’t ask and almost certainly didn’t hear it; but Daniel was sure som parts of him did, those delicate corners of him that made everything hurt so much, and made every drop of love so magnificent. Daniel kissed the tip of his nose, kissed those secret parts of his kid, fastened a golden cloak around them, and he too closed his eyes.