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Armand has been ignoring him for hours.
The evening started perfectly normally; Armand had climbed up his fire escape as dusk fully settled over the city and lounged out on Daniel’s couch, flipping the TV to the shopping channel and watching it intently. At first, Daniel was glad not to be distracted, he has an article that’s due in the morning, but now he’s finished his work and Armand is still ignoring him.
He takes a seat on the couch next to Armand, who doesn’t glance away from the screen. Daniel notices that he’s dressed for a night out, wearing a skin-tight shirt with a sinful v-neck and expensive-looking black leather boots.
“Where are we going tonight, boss? Do I need to dress up?” Daniel used to hate dressing up, he’d been much too poor to buy real menswear, but Armand has since gifted him a wardrobe full of expensive outfits.
There’s an awkward thirty seconds of silence and Daniel starts to think Armand won’t reply.
“We aren’t going anywhere.” He doesn’t take his eyes away from the crappy blender being advertised on the TV as he says it.
“Night in, then.” Daniel isn’t disappointed, there are benefits to a night in. He shuffles a little closer until his side is pressed up against Armand’s and lays a hand on his thigh. “Whatever will we do to occupy ourselves?”
Daniel hardly registers the hand that shoves him off the couch, leaving him sprawled painfully on the uncarpeted floor. The thud when he hits the ground makes him wince, his neighbours have filed about twenty - soon to be twenty-one - noise complaints. When he gets his bearings and looks back up at Armand it’s as if the vampire never even moved, his focus still entirely on the shopping channel.
Never one to squander an opportunity, Daniel shuffles forward on his knees until he’s between Armand’s slightly spread legs. Armand is radiating warmth today, fresh fed and feverish with blood.
“Is this how you wanted me?” Daniel looks up through his eyelashes with a playful smirk. “Kneeling for your cock?”
Finally, Armand looks at him.
“I'm too busy for your antics,” He tells Daniel, a hilarious lie given all he’s currently doing is watching trash TV.
“Oh yeah, you look swamped.” Daniel says sarcastically, with a roll of his eyes. Pay attention to me, he wants to tell Armand, I’m right here, I’ll do anything.
The thought makes him feel pathetic, crawling on the floor and begging Armand to look at him. He’s never had much dignity when it comes to vampires, he remembers doing the same thing to Louis. Look at me, just look at me, I want you so badly.
Armand radiates disdain. “If you’re that desperate for attention you can hump my boot like the rutting animal you are.”
To punctuate the point Armand extends a graceful leg, and then turns back to the television, picking up the remote and flipping through the channels. His words send a shiver of heat through Daniel, which pools hot between his legs. He wonders if he could do that, just grind against Armand’s sexy leather shoes until he comes. The arousal that shivers through him at the thought seems to indicate that he can.
Tentatively, Daniel moves to settle himself over Armand’s shoe. He’s still crawling, his knees sliding against the floorboards, and he has to grip Armand’s calf to steady himself. The first roll of his hips down onto the boot makes him flush all over with embarrassment, but he keeps going. The only sound in the room is the dull crackle of voices on the television, and Daniel’s shaky breathing. He’s getting wetter as he grinds into the leather, getting off on the embarrassment more than anything else. Armand ignores him as Daniel rubs off on his shoe, gripping his leg for leverage and resting his forehead against his knee.
In terms of sensation it isn’t doing much for him, the pressure against his clit is fleeting and dulled by layers of fabric, but the degradation of it is making his breath come in short bursts. He’s a dog humping its master’s leg, just waiting for a word of praise or an affectionate touch. When he leans back for a different angle Daniel can see a small wet patch on the knee of Armand’s trousers, left there by his open mouth. A pulse of wetness between his legs makes him moan, and he imagines leaking through his pants and leaving a wet smear on the boots.
“You can get undressed,” Armand says in the direction of the TV. He makes it sound like he doesn’t care either way, but Daniel knows from experience that it’s a command rather than a suggestion.
He stands, heat throbbing between his thighs, and pulls off his clothes, throwing them into an untidy pile near the bedroom door. Usually behaviour like that would grant him a vicious look from Armand, he hates when Daniel is a slob, but he’s still focused intently on whatever terrible sitcom is blaring canned laughter out of the TV.
Daniel kneels once more and spreads his thighs; he can feel how wet he is, the motion causing his cunt lips to peel apart with a slick noise. He grinds back down on Armand’s boot and immediately releases a shaky moan. The leather is warm and slightly rough as he ruts against it, his clit catching on the textured stitching and sending sparks of pleasure up his spine. Daniel rocks his hips slowly, his own slickness spreading over the boot until the glide of his cunt against the leather is smooth and delicious. Part of him hopes that Armand will make him lick it clean when he’s done, and Daniel imagines him saying good boy, good puppy as he obeys.
Daniel can feel his orgasm building, hot and liquid in his gut, but the inconsistent pressure of the boot isn’t quite enough to get him all the way, just enough to tease and leave him hanging. He reaches a hand down to jerk off, only to feel his body lock up and stop responding to his instructions.
“No hands,” Armand tells him, still gazing pointedly at the television. Daniel smirks a little despite his frustration; Armand might be pretending to ignore him, but Daniel has his full attention.
The knowledge makes Daniel even more determined to give him a good show, working his hips faster and letting out a steady stream of moans and sighs. He gets into a rhythm, rocking his hips and working his clit over the textured threading on the shoes. Armand isn’t looking at him but Daniel can see the tension in his body, the bulge of his hard cock in his pants; Armand is probably reading his thoughts, watching him that way.
Daniel can almost imagine the sensation of Armand in his head, watching him, feeling what he feels. A pulse of fluid leaks out of him, all over Armand’s shoe. The slick, wet noise of his cunt on Armand’s boot sends flushes of heat down his body, shame and desire mingling. He bites down on the knee in front of him when he comes, letting the fabric muffle his voice as he rides out the aftershocks.
After a moment he shifts back, peeling his oversensitive cunt away from Armand’s boot with a slick sound that will live in his spank bank forever. When he glances down, Daniel can see that the leather is darkened with his wetness and still connected to him by slick strands of his own cum. He hears Armand’s breath hitch in his throat, seeing it through Daniel’s eyes.
Armand is flushed when Daniel focuses back on him, he’s still determinedly staring at the TV but the spots of colour in his cheeks are giving him away entirely. Daniel slides a hand up his thigh and palms his cock lightly, grabbing for his zipper, eager to swallow him down. Armand lets it happen for a moment, before he knocks Daniel’s hand away and stands, looming dangerously.
“Did I say you could touch me?” He asks, his eyes finally on Daniel. The weight of his gaze is a physical thing; a blanket settling over Daniel or a bear trap pinning him to the floor. Daniel looks up at him from where he’s kneeling at Armand’s feet and shudders with desire, he wants to shove three fingers in his cunt and jack off while Armand stares down at him exactly like this. He wants Armand to spit on him while he writhes around like an animal. He pushes his face into Armand’s crotch, begging for him to fuck Daniel’s mouth until he cries.
Instead, Armand kicks him solidly in the cunt.
The blow knocks him onto his back and he snaps his thighs closed, protecting himself. The pain is solid in his gut, shivering into his stomach nauseatingly.
“Fuck, man,” Daniel complains through the radiating pain, the bruising ache of his clit.
“I thought you wanted to be treated like a dog,” Armand’s voice is lightly mocking. “Open your legs.”
Daniel looks up at him, trying to gauge how insolent he can be. “I don’t kick dogs, personally.”
“You’ve been disobedient, Daniel,” Armand’s fangs are out. “You need to be corrected.”
He wants to respond snarkily again, but he’s lost control of his faculties and all that comes out when he opens his mouth is a low whine. He’s really going to let Armand do this, kick him like he’s a misbehaving animal.
With amber eyes watching his every motion, Daniel lifts himself up onto his elbows and parts his thighs, bracing for the blow. It doesn’t arrive. Armand only steps closer, sliding the tip of his shoe up through the mess on Daniel’s thigh and pressing it lightly against his clit. The light touch sends a jolt of pleasure through his confused nerves. Armand lingers for a long moment, letting Daniel push back into the sensation, before he draws his foot back for another strike.
This time the solid tip of the boot connects and just misses his clit, which Daniel is grateful for, until Armand lands a second kick in the same spot and Daniel realises he’s aiming for his urethra. A tight, hot sensation lances through him, a bruised feeling that settles heavily in his gut, almost like he needs to piss. Armand shifts his weight above Daniel and lands three kicks directly to his hole, waiting just long enough between each blow to let the pain fully register.
He looks like an avenging angel. His dark hair settling in wild ringlets around his face, the shadow of his nose, his cheekbones cut from marble. The dim overhead light behind Armand illuminates him like a halo as he towers over Daniel’s body, drawing back for another blow.
Daniel leans back until he’s supine on the floor, letting gravity pull the tears down his face until they splash gently onto the floorboards. Armand isn’t letting up, strike after strike building the heat and agony in his cunt to ecstatic heights. The blows are relentless, catching on his pubic bone, his labia, occasionally driving the toe of his boot deep into Daniel’s soaked cunt. He was already swollen and puffy from fucking Armand’s boot, but if he keeps this up Daniel thinks he might swell shut.
As if he’d heard the thought, Armand stops. Daniel has his eyes squeezed tightly closed against the pain, but he hears Armand approach, the sound of his steps crisp on the wooden floor. A moment later he squints through wet eyelashes just in time to see Armand place his foot on Daniel’s lower stomach and press down, gentle but firm. The sensation shoots through him instantly, every nerve a live wire that lets him know he needs to piss urgently.
“Armand, don’t,” he protests weakly. “Let me up, I need to-”
The boot presses into his bladder harder and Daniel stops talking, choking back the words and focusing all of his energy on not pissing all over the floor.
“You need to what, Daniel?” Armand’s voice is distant and unemotional, but Daniel knows him well enough to detect a bubble of amusement in his tone.
“Just let me up, please,” Daniel begs, drawing the ‘please’ out into a whine. He has little hope of salvation.
Daniel can recall a similar moment at Divisadero Street; Armand remembered to feed him on the third day, and give him water. He even had a moment of actual kindness (or so Daniel had thought) and cracked open a beer from Louis’ fridge, tipping it into Daniel’s mouth slowly until the whole contents slipped blissfully down his throat. Then he sat and watched, a statue with a distinct air of scientific curiosity, as Daniel started squirming, and then asking to be let up, and finally begging. He remembers the hot slide of tears and the aching relief when he finally let go, the urine puddling at his crotch and soaking his cunt before it splashed endlessly onto the floor. Armand had watched the whole thing with hungry, fascinated eyes.
His eyes are similar now, Daniel observes with trepidation.
“You can leave,” Armand tells him, still holding him down with one foot. “After you’ve ridden my boot to my satisfaction.”
Bastard, Daniel thinks at him viciously, and is punished by a harsh push against his bladder. He lets out a pained hiss between his teeth, and then the foot withdraws and Armand walks back to the sofa and takes a seat. Daniel could leave now. There’s no way he can ride Armand’s boot again without urinating all over the floor, so he should just leave. He should get up and walk out and say fuck it to Armand’s mind games. He could.
No amount of repeating it convinces him, and he sits up, slowly, making eye contact with Armand, who is watching him closely. There’s an undeniable tension to his mouth, a tiny nervous pull at the corner, and Daniel realises with a jolt that this is something Armand sincerely wants. Not just as a punishment or a game; Armand genuinely wants to see him let go in this mortifyingly human way. Of course, he couldn’t just ask for it like a normal person, Daniel thinks with amusement, but he softens to the idea. Maybe he can do this, if it’s what Armand needs.
Decision made, Daniel crawls to his lover, the movement makes his bruised cunt ache deliciously between his thighs, and jostles his overfull bladder. As soon as he’s close enough Armand leans forward and grabs a handful of his curls, pulling him the rest of the way with a painful tug to his scalp.
“Good boy,” Armand tells him, and Daniel whimpers in his grip.
Armand shoves his leg between Daniel’s thighs, pushing up against the tender skin of his cunt, letting him drop down and start rolling his hips into the boot. It hurts, of course, a fresh bruise being pressed on. But Daniel has always loved the things that hurt him the most, an echo of his younger self pressing fingers to purpled skin and shivering at the ache. He’s dripping wet already, letting out choked off moans as Armand controls his pace with the hand clenched firmly in his hair.
It’s so torturously pleasurable that Daniel forgets, for a series of long, hedonistic moments, about the pressure on his bladder. He chases his release desperately, riding Armand’s boot with harsh circles of his hips, his cunt kissing wetly over the leather. A hot shudder curls through his abdomen, and Daniel knows, with a sudden panic, that he is actually going to wet himself if he comes. All over Armand’s shoes, all over the floor, while his lover watches him.
A small noise distracts him from his thoughts and he looks up to see Armand, fangs digging into his lower lip, his free hand pressed lightly against his cock, looking at Daniel with his pupils blown wide and eager.
“Let go,” Armand demands, eyes fixed at the apex of Daniel’s thighs. “You’ve been so good, you can let go for me-”
He keeps up the steady stream of praise and demands while Daniel trembles at his feet, rutting urgently. Daniel couldn’t say whether the orgasm or the hot stream of piss comes first, or whether they happen at the exact same time. The relief is so sharp it’s almost painful, his urethra is bruised from Armand’s boot and it stings deliciously in contrast to the waves of pleasure making his cunt pulse with his heartbeat. The rivulets of urine run off the leather in streams and splash onto the floorboards, the noise making Daniel flush hot with shame.
It keeps coming, seemingly endless, the puddle expanding to meet his knees, which are spread wide on either side of Armand’s boot. Just as the stream begins to taper off, Armand lets go of his hair and lifts Daniel bodily into his lap, pressing an insistent hand down over his bladder. He massages at Daniel’s lower belly while he squirms, and sinks one finger into his cunt, pressing it hard against his g-spot; working the last few spurts of urine out of him to soak into Armand’s soft trousers. Daniel clenches down on the finger, rolling his hips into the intrusion.
“You wanted to lick it up?” Armand asks him.
“I want you to fuck me,” Daniel slurs, out of his mind with pleasure.
“Be a good puppy,” Armand’s voice is soft and cruel, wringing another shudder from Daniel. “Clean up your mess.”
Daniel nods, reluctantly pulling away from Armand’s warmth. He lets his eyes linger on the wet patch on Armand’s lap as he drops back to his knees, his mouth watering at the sight of the hard cock under the layer of damp, clinging fabric.
He goes to work with abandon, licking messily over the leather of Armand’s boot. It tastes of musk, the sharp tang of urine lingering in his mouth, with just a hint of leather underneath. He’s not sure how well he’s actually cleaning anything, the leather is soaked already, but he diligently chases the clinging droplets with his mouth until the fabric is a shining, smooth black again.
“Good boy,” Armand says, when Daniel glances up at him, looking for approval. “That’s enough now.”
He pulls Daniel back into his lap, as if he weighs nothing, and kisses him deeply. Daniel can feel Armand’s cock pushing against his thigh and he grinds down into it, ignoring the soreness of his cunt.
“You still want me to fuck you?” Armand punctuates the question with a slap that lands directly over Daniel’s clit. He nods, spreading his legs wider. “Such a nasty mutt, so desperate for it, even when it hurts.”
Armand pinches Daniel’s cunt lips together as he speaks, crushing his folds brutally between two fingers, deliberately torturing the forming bruises. He runs a finger through the messy slit and circles Daniel’s clit once, ignoring his whines as he threatens the delicate skin lightly with a sharp nail.
“You’re going to be bruised purple down here tomorrow.” There’s no small amount of satisfaction in Armand’s voice. “On your hands and knees for me, pup.”
Daniel can’t suppress a shiver at the pet name, the casual affection that Armand had spoken it with. He follows the instructions, presenting to Armand shamelessly; his back arched and his thighs spread wide. He can feel himself dripping again, desperate for Armand to take him like this, to breed him like a dog.
The sound of fabric rustling behind him reminds him that Armand is still fully clothed, still wearing his shoes, as he positions himself on the sofa behind Daniel. Armand pushes his cock into Daniel, with some effort. The bruising ache of it makes Daniel clench down, hard, at the intrusion, biting at the couch cushion in front of his face to muffle his overwhelmed sob.
“You’re tight as a virgin again,” Armand remarks, as if it’s a pleasant observation, and Daniel flushes hot down his back. “Just like the first time I had you.”
Heedless of the bruising, Armand fucks into him viciously. He’s hunched over Daniel with one hand pressing down on the back of his neck, pushing him into the pillows. Daniel goes limp in his grasp, obedient and entirely owned, and lets himself melt bonelessly into the mixed pain and pleasure. Each time Armand’s hips snap forwards Daniel’s aching cunt sends shockwaves through his body, he’s hot and stretched out around Armand’s girth, swollen and struggling to take him.
“I should do this more often; bruise you up until you’re swollen tight like this,” Armand ghosts a gentle finger over Daniel’s rim, pressing in just a little. “I wouldn’t even have to fuck you here any more.”
Daniel shudders underneath him, an object for Armand’s pleasure, getting fucked brutally into the couch. Exactly like he’d wanted from the beginning, a mantra flowing under his skin; look at me, use me, own me. Armand’s hips stutter and he comes deep inside Daniel with a choked off sigh, his grip around Daniel’s neck tightening until his nails pierce the skin with tiny pinpricks.
After a moment, Armand goes loose and boneless behind him and flops down onto the sofa. He pulls Daniel against his chest, kissing him lightly under his ear. Daniel sneaks a cold hand under Armand’s shirt, warming it on his skin. Armand is flushed-warm with fresh blood but Daniel tilts his neck towards him anyway.
“Not right now, beloved,” Armand tells him. “We need to clean that up before it stains.”
He gestures at the wet mark on the floorboards and Daniel blushes furiously, kicking Armand ineffectually in the shin.
“It was your idea, boss.” He says, indignant.
“Perhaps.” There’s a pause, Daniel waits for the axe to fall. “But it’s your deposit.”
Daniel can hear the smirk in Armand’s voice, revelling in being a shit. Sometimes he can’t believe he’s allowed to have this; this otherworldly creature in his bed, in his life. He rolls closer to Armand, licking over his jugular.
“Fuck the floor,” he tells him. “Bite me, instead.”