Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

From Dubai to New York, 2022.

Daniel had ordered the private jet while he sat at the back of the uber on his way to the airport. One hand was occupied with holding the phone to his ear as he talked about coordinates while the other hand trembled against his knee. The old man tried to convince himself the dread eating up at his insides was simply leftist guilt for polluting the world with yet another private plane ride across the globe, but he knew deep down the real reason.

He had done it. He had shown those pretentious Vampires what a lifetime spent on investigative journalism was good for. He had kicked apart their smoke and mirrors one question at a time, pulled apart the red curtains and let the light in after two weeks of sleuthing around the haunted corridors of their self-made prison.

It had been cathartic as much as it had been terrifying. While Daniel had been clean for the last thirty years, an addict never really stopped being an addict, and an addict never forgot the feeling that the needle gave you. Seeing that conniving bastard Armand's face fall once he realized the ruse was up had given him the same headrush that cocaine used to; the way those unnatural eyes latched onto him once Louis stormed out of the room had given Daniel's stomach the same swoop of heroin, followed with the bleak realization of oh shit, this might actually kill me.

Suffice to say, Daniel didn't exactly feel safe while stranded on UAE ground. It was difficult not to be scared for his life when he knew there was an apex predator roaming that had every reason to tear his spine out through his asshole. So Daniel sweated his way through airline security. He sweated his way through his clothes as well. He didn't start to feel safe until after the pretty flight attendant had ushered him inside his plane, in which he immediately took off his flannel and chucked it at a random seat. Lounging first class while in his black undershirt would have to suffice.

It was a nice plane. Smaller than a commercial flight, although it felt much roomier due to there being less seats. It resembled a living room more than a plane, honestly. The seats themselves were plush, beige leather, topped with matching beige throw pillows, and they reclined nicely once Daniel sat down on one of them. The bar in front of him was calling his name more than anything. Daniel let his glasses clatter to the table as he pressed his fingers to his eyelids.

"Who do I have to suck off for a martini around here?" he called out, bone-tired and on edge from a long day of narrowly avoiding death by Vampires.

The same flight attendant from before came out to make a martini for him. Not dirty enough , but at least he had a little something to sip on while he watched the plane depart from the ground. Slowly but surely, he could breathe easier.

It was a shame that he didn't have his laptop anymore, though. He'd like to have something to do during this sixteen hour flight.

Another flight attendant came out with a trolley from behind him. Daniel had only meant to give her a passing glance, but he ended up doing a triple take. She was all legs and a red pencil skirt. It wasn't a particularly short skirt, but on someone of her stature it left little for the imagination. She also wore a beige, tight-sitting blazer and a little red hat to match the maddening skirt, shiny fuck-me-pumps on her feet. Dark nylons. Daniel wondered whether they were full coverage tights or stockings.

She bent down to pick something up from the bottom cupboard of the trolley. The skirt hiked up, just a little bit, but it was enough for Daniel to see the lacy top of her stockings. The back of her garter, too.

He quickly averted his gaze, ears burning red.

Shameful of your own desire, a voice spoke inside his head. It had an airy lilt which he could have recognized anywhere. Is that what makes you fascinating?

His blood froze.

Daniel turned back to the flight attendant, heart stuck in his throat. It couldn't be.

But it was.

The flight attendant was still bent down, but those fiery orange eyes glared at Daniel from behind that padded shoulder, brimming with rage.

Fuck me, thought Daniel, growing paler by the second.

Out loud, he blurted, "What are you doing here?" because surviving several hostage situations in his career had yet to sharpen his survival instinct.

That's what you would call this, right? A hostage situation. A bizarre one at that. He never had one happen in a plane before.

No crossdressing Vampires had been involved either, but there's apparently a first time for everything. He'd laugh if he wasn't so close to shitting his pants.

The bastard stood up to his full height, and what a height it was— 6’1 and with an extra six inches from the heels. Daniel found it more intimidating than attractive this time around. He put a gloved hand on his cocked hip and looked down at Daniel haughtily. There was a dainty little handkerchief in a deep red color tied around the long column of his neck.

"I am your air stewardess," Armand replied.

Daniel thought briefly about throwing himself out of the emergency exit. A compelling idea at first, until he reminded himself that Armand would most likely swan dive after him. Daniel swallowed down the lump of dread which had climbed up his throat. There was no escaping this menace.

"Flight attendant. Stewardess is an outdated term," Daniel corrected through clenched teeth. His fingers gripped hard around his glass. "How did you find me? I thought you were out of commission. Licking your wounds, and all that."

Armand's eyes twitched. They were coated in a sleek layer of kohl. Then he said, "All wounds are healed, I assure you," passive aggressive, bitchy.

First of all: bullshit. The wounds on his face might be gone but the hurt wasn't.

Second of all: "I heard your spine break."

"And then it healed,” Armand replied, nonchalant.

The flight attendant pushed himself away from the trolley and slinked towards the bar. The movement of him reminded Daniel of a prowling cat, all hips and shoulders.

And here Daniel was, the cornered mouse. Unable to do anything other than watch Armand decide between the various bottles of vodka standing on the shelf before deciding on the most expensive one.

With a lilting voice, Armand continued to croon, "Tracking you down wasn't difficult. I could smell that self-satisfied, medical stench of yours from miles away." Two ounces and a half of vodka, the correct amount of dry vermouth, and an ounce of olive brine in the shaker. Then he added the ice, thick and cool. "The Levodopa infusions have done the aroma of your blood no good, if you were wondering. It thins you out; makes the ailment of your body sharper on the nose.”

Daniel tried very hard not to jump off his seat when Armand began to slam the shaker.

"I think I preferred the other flight attendant. Where is she? You didn't—"

Armand slammed the shaker back down on the counter and silenced him. Cold sweat dabbled Daniel's brow as he watched the Vampire take out a cocktail glass from the freezer.

"Fatima is staring out the window for the foreseeable future," said Armand, all conversationally as he poured the drink into the glass. "I think it is for the best that she doesn't see the things I am planning to do to you."

Yeah. Undeniably fucked.

Daniel tried his luck. "What about your promise to Louis?"

"What promise?" the Vampire asked right back. He popped in two olives. "I didn't make a promise."

Armand walked around the bar, drink in hand, and Daniel didn't know what he ought to pay attention to at this moment: the perfect martini held in those sharp claws, thick and tinted green with ice and filth, the elegant movement of those hips, or the murderous glint in his executioner's eyes.

The executioner set the martini down on Daniel's table. Daniel immediately put the one he was nursing down and picked up the new one.

"Good?" Armand hummed as he sat down on the seat opposite Daniel. He had such a demure way of folding his legs.

"You know it is," Daniel grumbled. He took an indulgent sip.

Salty and savory. Infuriatingly perfect.

While his stay in Dubai stretched onto ample weeks, Daniel never got around to asking how Armand nailed the drinks every single time. It wasn't just the martinis, but the coffee, as well. The few times Daniel decided to shake loose his routine and order a finger of Whiskey, no other description given, Armand always delivered it just the way he liked. That was only while he was playing servant, of course. Real Rashid did his best but he couldn't quite satisfy Daniel the same way.

"And fair enough; you never made that promise. He did say he'd kill you if you hurt me, though."

"Do you truly believe Louis can kill me?" the Vampire mused. The sun bled gold all across his face. It made his eyes resemble molten lava.

Daniel took another long sip of his martini. "He'd find a way."

Armand tilted his head back. There was a little pout to his lips as he pondered that statement. Was he wearing lip gloss?

And then he shrugged one shoulder, almost coquettish. "Maybe so. I still find it difficult to care. You, Daniel Molloy, took away my final tether to this world. I have lost everything. Why should I care whether I live or not?"

"Hey, you did all that to yourself." Daniel rolled his eyes. Drama queen.

“Evading responsibility as always,” sniped Armand. “Fortunately for you I find myself in a charitable mood. After all, what will happen with your ten millions?” And then he stood up again and went to the trolley. He bowed down again, and Daniel made sure to look away this time around.

Armand's heels clacked as he walked back to Daniel's table, putting down a macbook, shiny white and brand new.

Daniel looked down at the laptop blankly. Did Armand plan to torture him by making him look through his e-mails? Then, he made the mistake of looking up at his tormentor with a question knit between his eyebrows— wholly unprepared to see the look on the Vampire's face.

Wide eyes, an unbreathing mouth, slightly open and showing a glimpse of pearly white bottom teeth. He looked like he would jump Daniel any second. It made a shiver run down Daniel's spine when he reminded himself that he could.

With a buttery voice completely devoid of tone or humanity, the Vampire said, "I will allow you to rewrite your will before I take your life."

Daniel did not rewrite his fucking will.

It had been one hour since he got caged into this flying tin can with a prowling tiger and he had fifteen more to go. Death was imminent, he knew it was, but maybe he could postpone it for a little bit if he just refused to write the will. What was Armand going to do, force his hand? Most definitely, yes, but they hadn’t gotten to that point yet so Daniel wasn’t going to give the possibility another thought.

Daniel also couldn't be bothered. Dividing up ten million wasn't a walk in the park, especially not when he had two martinis in his system and a third one coming. What would he even write while in this state? A modest three million each to daughter-who-can't-stand-me #1 and #2, the same to the grandkids, one million to ex-wife-who-hate-my-guts #1 and #2— wait, why am I giving those old cunts money? I paid off the child support ages ago, goddamnit. Yeah, no thanks. He'd probably get so irate that he'd end up donating it all to charity, and then Daniel wouldn't even get a fucking casket to lie in after he croaks. Lenora and Kate would have him cremated and put in an empty Diet Coke that they'd throw in the trash.

So Daniel was not going to rewrite his will. He began to look through his notes for the interview instead. Jot down comments on the margins. It was something to do, which he was grateful for, and it brought him glee to see Armand fume in the corner of his vision as he continued to ignore his order and do his thing.

And fume he did. Daniel couldn't believe he ever found the Vampire difficult to read. His displeasure was all in the clench of his smooth jaw, the rapid, half-blinking of his eyes.

Or maybe Daniel just brought the rage out of him. That thought shouldn't please him as much as it did, but oh well. It had been a good few decades since Daniel accepted that he had a few screws loose.

Armand was standing beside the bar. It was important to point out that he was not standing behind it, but in front of it. That was why Daniel's eyes were stuck to the bottom of the pencil skirt and how it hugged him mid-thigh, and how his hip was slightly cocked to the side, arms crossed over his chest and extenuating the slim junction of his waist. Daniel's fingers twitched around his glass. Scared for his life as he was, he couldn't deny the bastard was a bisexual wet dream.

He swallowed down the last dregs of liquor and slammed the glass back down on the table. About that third martini.

“Refill,” Daniel called out. His throat was already dry.

Armand turned to look at him. He had been resolutely looking out of the window for the past twenty minutes.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Armand said, prim as always. “Your tolerance isn’t what it once used to be.”

A tick of irritation. "I never had a lick of tolerance. It's why my twenties were a blur," Daniel replied, tone as dry as his tongue.

A ghost of a smile graced Armand's lips. It only took a second for the smile to melt and for his face to turn mannequin blank. The gaze he used to pin Daniel to his seat made the back of his neck break out in a brand new layer of sweet.

"The year is 1974. Your workplace is having a Christmas party at the office, and you've spent the entire day hammering it into your head to cut yourself off after two drinks. Despite differences in work ethic, you believed this paper company to be your breakthrough and wanted to play your cards right. You end up hammered anyway. You pick a fight with your superiors about an article of yours that they had rejected, and one of your coworkers, Sheila Thompson, who's feelings for you were an open secret in the office, tried to diffuse the situation. You called her a bitch before vomiting onto her brand new heels. She broke into tears and you did what you did best; you ran away. You ditch work for a week straight to find comfort in your drug habit and ignore the calls ringing through your shoebox-apartment. Once you mustered up the courage to show up, you see that they've already given an apprentice your desk and thrown all your belongings in the trash.

"Your twenties are not a blur, Mr. Molloy. The regret and the shame of your youth are fresh despite the years, but it is all buried somewhere deep within your subconscious. You are simply too much of a coward to dig in."

"That was a lifetime ago and irrelevant." He rolled his eyes. Fuck these Vampires and their stupid parlor tricks. "What are you trying to do by dredging that shit up again? Going to make me wish for death again, are you? Like honey on your tongue."

"I am simply illustrating a point. You say that 1974 was a lifetime ago, and yet you excavate the bones of a tragedy which occurred before you were even born," Armand replied, indignation lighting up his eyes.

There it is, Daniel thought with a shit-eating smile. Finally they were getting to the meat of things. He had found the radio silence irritating. He much preferred a fight. Ask his ex-wives and they would have told you the same thing.

And he was feeling antsy, sue him. The weight of his will hung over him like earth's gravitational pull. Daniel thought that he had long since come to accept his imminent death, but recent discoveries have only made the thought unbearable.

He wanted to live, goddamnit. He wanted his book, too.

He watched the steep vee neck of Armand's blazer. The little handkerchief around his neck. He wanted—

"You and Louis made it abundantly clear that a human lifetime is not at all comparable to a Vampire's lifetime, you can't keep going back on your word just because it doesn't suit you anymore." Daniel leaned back in his seat and placed the laptop on his knee. Then he drawled without looking up from his screen, "And don't call what happened at the Trial a tragedy, it sounds cheap coming from your mouth."

"Then what should I call it?"

"Call it as you personally see it: an inconvenience."

Daniel barrelled on before Armand could reply. "What were you hoping to gain with it, by the way? I'm still struggling to pin down your motive. You wanted Louis dead alongside Claudia, and then what? For Lestat to join your coven again and kiss the ground you walk on? You couldn't possibly believe he would comply. You said it yourself, you can't script a hurricane. "

Armand did something interesting as a response to the reporter's questioning. He let out a baffled laugh, something between a snort and an exhalation of air, lips pulled into a disbelieving little gummy smile. It surprised Daniel. He didn't know that Armand had it in him to laugh.

"The interview is over. You have a perfectly fine first draft in the works, and you are still asking me to fatten up your margins? Your greed knows no bounds, Mr. Molloy," the Vampire scoffed.

"Yeah, and you are an evil, manipulative narcissist who can't stand to live in his own skin, so you burrow into the bodies of those around you like a parasite. We all have our flaws."

"I suppose we all do. You for instance are a lonely, old man who needs to hear his own voice in lest he kills himself," Armand hissed. "Unlovable, boring wretch who no one will miss once he’s departed from this world."

Daniel barked out a laugh at that. "Right back at you, pal."

A martini glass or two went flying to the wall right beside Daniel's head. Tiny shards of glass tumbled down his shoulder like glistening snow.

Daniel only spared him a look from above the rim of his glasses. A raise of his brow. And all that Armand spared him was one last glare before he walked away. To the flight attendant's break room, he supposed.

"Hey, what about my drink?" Daniel called out.

Radio silence.

The old man sighed and went back to typing on his laptop. At least he felt like he could breathe more easily now that Armand's heavy presence wasn't sucking out all the air of the room.

"Fine, I guess I'll leave your motive up to interpretation. Don't come crying to me when all the readers begin to cancel you on social media."

It only took an hour of skulking for Armand to come back around and make Daniel that third drink. Which had been for the best, because Daniel was now a comfortable drunk rather than the shitfaced drunk he'd end up if he had gotten that martini any earlier. At least he would be able to remember the clash of warm shades of the sunset against the black of night before Armand ripped his throat out.

The flight attendant held the glass out for Daniel to take, which he did. Their fingers brushed for a brief moment before Armand retreated.

"Still mad at me?" Daniel asked, a slight slur looping his vowels and consonants together.

Armand didn't seem mad. Maybe the break had done them both some good, because the furrow between his eyebrows and the clench of his jaw was gone. But then again what did Daniel know. Vampires were known for flipping on a dime.

"You can't help it," was Armand’s response, which wasn't an answer to his question. "It is in your nature to drive me up the wall. I should know better than to let your words take hold."

Daniel grumbled at that. "You sound like my wife."

"Ex-wife." Armand sat down on the seat opposite Daniel. A beat of silence before he asked, “which one?" as if he didn’t know the answer already.

Daniel eyed the way those long legs crossed. One knee pressed above the other, legs diagonal to the floor. Sculpted calves, dainty shins. The heels framed the bone of his ankles like pretty jewels.

"Does it matter?" he asked after taking a sip of his martini. "Are you still going to kill me?"

"Where's your will?"

"I deleted it."

Armand stared at him.

"You deleted your will."

"Yeah." Daniel shrugged and took another, longer sip.

There was already an old copy of it collecting dust in one of his bookshelves back in Brooklyn, however the file itself was put through the digital shredder. Was it selfish of him to not clear up where his millions should go after his death? Maybe. Daniel was more interested in pissing off Armand than being a good person.

Armand knew all of this, of course. Daniel had spent enough time around Vampires to recognize that expression he wore while fingering Daniel's hippocampus.

"You printed it when you were first diagnosed with Parkinsons," he said after a beat of silence. He said it as if he was surprised, which didn't make even an iota of sense. How could anything surprise this fossil?

"No, I printed it out first when my first daughter was born. I edited and printed it again when the second came around. I touched my will for the last time when I got the diagnosis." Daniel raised his eyebrows. "I don't know if you were aware, Armand, but Parkinsons have a tendency to kill old men like me. Of course I've got my will ready."

"You don't. You have an outdated version of a physical copy, and now you've removed all means of revising it."

"Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?"

The answer turned out to be nothing. Armand settled himself onto his seat, and the both of them fell into a surprisingly easy silence. Daniel spent it alternating between looking at the macbook and out of the window, and taking small sips of his drink. The clouds were royal purple from this height, the sun an amber glow above them. Armand spent their shared time together staring holes through Daniel's head, which should have made the silence tense all things considered, but Daniel grew used to the sensation quickly. It wasn’t a far cry from Dubai if he was honest, and Daniel had done possibly his greatest work to date there.

It was freeing, in a sense. The destruction of his testament. It was as if the possibility of death completely vanished with the file. He lived in limbo instead. Suspended mid-air between the earth and the stars. Life and death. Daniel drained the last dregs from his drink and put the glass down again, his sight fuzzy around the edges and cheeks warm with alcohol. Purgatory wasn't as terrible as his father made it out to be.

The sun vanished from the horizon without fanfare. It only took a few seconds for the sky to turn black and for the plane to follow suit, the interior only illuminated by small, blinking lights like the stars outside the window. It was alarmingly intimate.

When Daniel checked the clock on the laptop, he saw that they had sat together in silence for more than one hour. It made Daniel wonder what the hell they were doing here. He mulled over this thought as he closed the device and put it on the table.

And then Armand broke the silence.

"It is cathartic, I admit," the Vampire hummed out of nowhere. He tilted his head back against the headrest of the seat, showing the smooth underside of his jaw. He heaved a small sigh and closed his eyes as he said, "A heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

Daniel's eyes were stuck to the line of his jaw. "Oh, I bet."

Armand looked back down at him, eyes half-lidded and dark. Cocked an elegant brow.

With no glass or laptop for him to fiddle with, Daniel took off his glasses and began to bend the legs beneath his fingers.

"It's nothing. Just, well, it is convenient that the moment you grow weary of the same old routine, that there always is someone ready to tear it all down for you."

Armand frowned, as if he was displeased by this direction of questioning. There was a glint in his eyes, however, a little amused glint which made Daniel believe otherwise.

It was also the same smoldering way he used to look at Daniel while they were stuck in Dubai.

"You are seeing patterns where there are none."

"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep in your coffin. Do you wanna know another pattern that I'm seeing?" Daniel asked before he could stop himself. He'd been thinking about it for too long for him to keep quiet.

"I'm sure you'll tell me no matter what my answer is," Armand hummed, as if he was bored. He was anything but that.

Daniel put the glasses back on his face and cleared his throat.

"You always end up fucking the men who tore your life apart."

Armand uncrossed his legs. Daniel watched the little shadow of space between them until Armand crossed them the other way, slowly. The press of nylon against nylon was enough to set his skin on fire.

"Are you propositioning me, Mr. Molloy?" Armand asked, gently pulling him out of his head with those soft spoken words.

"I ought to be the one asking you that. I'm not the one who waxed my legs in record time and strutted in here wearing stockings and heels," Daniel replied, dryly, his inhibitions having long departed with his sobriety.

That made Armand's lips quirk up at the corners.

"I kept you hostage in San Francisco and tortured you for five days," he said.

"It was six."

"I lulled you into near death," Armand continued to croon. "Must you always flirt with death?"

"Not my fault death has such shapely calves."

"You are very drunk," the Vampire mused. "You wouldn't be this forward otherwise."

And because Daniel was very drunk and floating in purgatory, he stretched his arm out with his veins facing upwards. "Have a sip. I feel stupid being shitfaced all on my own."

It was silent for a while. Armand had stopped his breathing. His eyes were glued to the veins, which looked far darker in the low light. They protruded from the pale, liver spotted skin of his arm like the roots of a tree torn from the grassy ground, dotted with decades old track marks and scars. While Daniel wasn't good for much other than journalism, his anatomy made sure that the doctor never had trouble finding a vein. Neither did he, for that matter.

Considering everything, Daniel didn't expect Armand to actually take him up on the offer. Or maybe it was precisely because of everything that he should have expected it. Neither of them had anything to lose at this point.

He still had to force himself to manually breathe when Armand stood up from his seat. The distance wasn't all that great, yet he took his sweet time walking over to Daniel, giving the old man ample time to regret every life decision that led up to this moment. Daniel still held his arm out for the taking.

Daniel watched as Armand sat down on the seat beside him. He watched the swoop of his nose and cheekbones, the smooth texture of his skin. He smelt of a spicy, floral perfume. A tinge of warm vanilla. It wasn't the same scent he had worn in San Francisco. It dawned upon Daniel that they haven't sat this close together since San Francisco.

"Afraid, Daniel?" Armand asked as he took his arm in both his latex covered hands. His grip was soft yet firm. The tone he used when he said his name was reminiscent of a pet name, something you call a person that you are fond of.

Daniel repressed a shiver when Armand rubbed the side of his arm with both his thumbs. "Just do it already," He replied. Then more sardonically, he sniped, "For old times sake, right?"

Armand didn't deign that with a response. His canines sharpened and he bowed his head down.

The slice of fangs against his skin was similar to that of a needle. Just a small pinch of pain, and then a familiar intrusion penetrating his vein. The first drag of blood Armand took was reminiscent of heroin entering his bloodstream. A warmth blanketing his ailing body and taking away all his mortal fissures. No ache in his joints, no trembling of his hand. Daniel melted against his seat. His bones liquidated.

"Fuck," Daniel cursed, breathless as he rolled his head back. "Fuck."

Armand pulled away all too soon, eyes wide like saucers and flashing red with hunger. Without another word he swung his leg around and straddled Daniel's lap in one fluid motion.

"Wha—"

"I could make it look like a heart attack," Armand mumbled, a breath away from Daniel's lips. He bumped their noses together as he took the older man's hands and placed them on his hips. His fingertips grazed the swell of the Vampire's ass. "Or I could make your death excruciating enough that you'd turn to religion once again. Yes, I can see it clearly in my head: you making your empty promises to your God while I take you apart, vowing to visit the nearest synagogue weekly if only He can take away your pain, but there is nothing He can do about your fate. You only have me to answer to, Daniel. You always have."

"Of course you're a homicidal drunk." Daniel snorted. The flush of Armand's cheeks were both mystifying and lovely. "Christ, you only had a sip. Are you that much of a lightweight?"

"Hush now," Armand huffed, before he bowed down and buried his teeth to the side of Daniel's neck.

The sensation of the second bite was somehow doubled. Daniel didn't know whether it was due to the placement or the close proximity of their bodies, but it felt like his entire nerve system was put on exquisite fire. He held Armand even closer and buried his face onto his shoulder, inhaling the flowery perfume he wore.

That only spurred Armand on; Daniel could feel the Vampire's muffled moans vibrate against the puncture holes in his neck, that obscene little sound traveling through his bloodstream, to the heart, and right down to his cock. Daniel thought he was going to die when Armand began to grind that perfect little ass onto his lap, or maybe it was the talons gripping onto his shoulders hard enough to tear through bone that would do him in first. He couldn't think of a better way to go.

That was why the man was caught by surprise when the vamp pulled away. He watched Armand climb off his lap and saunter back to his previous seat across from him.

"Fuck you, you're just gonna leave me hanging?" Daniel barked. He pushed his palm flat against the front of his jeans and hissed at the pressure. Fuck, he hadn't been this hard in ages.

Armand held no pity for him, of course.

He simply sank onto his seat, a glittering smile on his face as he watched Daniel writhe and fume.

“You’re a big boy, aren’t you? You can deal with your problem yourself," the menace replied. He ran his tongue across his teeth to clean them of blood. There was some on the corner of his lip.

Daniel zeroed in on that little spot of mess as he began to unbuckle his belt.

“And you’re going to watch?”

"I don't see why not," Armand breathed out, eyes intent on Daniel's hands on the zipper.

Daniel really shouldn't do this. If he had even a sliver of survival instinct left in that fried brain of his, he'd know better than to entertain this monster’s whims. As it stood, the zipper was loud when he pulled it down.

He didn't even need to spit on his hand, he'd bled enough precum for it to cover his entire shaft. The first brush of his fingers made him whine as if it was his first time touching himself. It made his ears burn bright red, and so did the visceral feel of Armand's eyes on him, gaze so intense and flaying in its single mindedness. Daniel should maybe close his eyes while doing this, but he couldn't look away from that pretty face, that little speck of blood on that inviting mouth, the six inch heels cradling those elegant feet leading up to shapely legs. That goddamned, life-ruining uniform.

Being watched so closely should have made him shrink. It spurred him on instead. Daniel's hand was firm around his dick, the callouses and lines carved onto his hand familiar and comfortable, but it made his hips cant when he imagined himself wrapped up in a much slimmer hand. One covered in latex gloves, or perhaps bare with talons on show.

His orgasm was so close he could taste it. It tasted like iron. He let his eyes fall closed before he fell over the edge.

But Daniel didn't come.

Maybe couldn't was a more accurate term.

The man opened his eyes and looked at Armand again. The Vampire’s pupils were blown wide open, trembling, as he watched Daniel fist his cock to no avail.

“How are you doing that?” The old man panted.

“Doing what?”

“You know what, I don’t have to spell it out.” He gave himself another tug, one that bordered on painful, and grunted with frustration. “You said I could deal with my problem on my own.”

Armand crossed his legs. Rolled his shoulders back. He put up an air of disinterest which Daniel didn’t buy for one second.

“I changed my mind,” the Vampire said.

“Change it back." The words came out through gritted teeth.

“Rewrite your will from scratch. Maybe I’ll let you come afterwards.”

Well. This was what Daniel got for following this sicko’s whims. He should have seen it coming.

“How do I know you won’t just kill me?” he asked.

“You don’t,” Armand said with a wide grin, fangs peeking out.

So Daniel was writing his will.

From scratch, mind you. It had been five hours since he started and Armand had declined eight of his drafts. Not that they were any good drafts, but still. Who would have guessed that a Vampire could be such a grammar nazi.

Daniel sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his back pressed against his previous seat, which was a position he only took to when the writing process was absolutely beating his ass. The macbook was on his lap, the heat of its battery searing onto his erection and making it that much more difficult to ignore.

There were times where Daniel thought about simply refusing to write the will and take on the blue balls like a man. He was old, he told himself, and had more or less lost his sexual appetite after becoming a sexagenarian. The thought was appealing, as well, in the hundred ways it would offend Armand. No thanks, babe, I don't want to fuck you after all, Daniel would say and then entertain himself with Microsoft Solitaire for the remainer of the flight. He could imagine the way Armand's jaw would drop, the hissy fit he'd throw at being a beautiful young thing rejected not only by his own boyfriend, but by this grumpy old man as well. Oh, it would have been amazing… But then he'd take one look at Armand in that flight attendant uniform and his resolve would crumble.

So Daniel was writing his will in the hopes he'd get to hit that. Which didn't bode well for his sense of self-respect. It didn't bode well for his survival either because Armand wanted him gone from the realm of the living more than he wanted him to get off, and Daniel would be nothing more than a dead man walking once Armand accepted the will.

"I'm finished," Daniel called out. He put the laptop on the table and waited for Armand to walk over. Daniel had yet to grow tired of watching Armand walk over.

"You are finished when I say so." Armand picked up the device and sat down on Daniel's old seat. He threw his long legs over Daniel's shoulder and rested his feet on his lap. "I hope you put more effort into this one compared to the last draft."

That draft had been one sentence long and went Burn the money for all I care and let me fuck you already.

Daniel bit the side of Armand's thigh without another thought. "Effort? That's the most honest piece of text I've written in my entire career."

As if to soothe him, Armand massaged the tent in his pants with the bottom of his heels while he read the document.

It infuriated Daniel how much that demeaning action made his body sing. He wrapped his arm around Armand's calves and rutted against that sharp pressure on his groin, that familiar warmth quickly building up in his lower gut.

"Sheila Thompson was something of an awakening for you, wasn't she?" Armand hummed. "Not in the sense that you were attracted to her. No, you found her appearance bland. It was the method in which you humiliated her which kept you up at night. You had soiled her shoes and instead of cleaning them up like you ought to, you ran away from your responsibility. Did you sometimes wish that she had forced your hand, Daniel? Pinned you down in front of your superiors and made you strip, used the shirt on your back to clean up your sick from her feet?"

Those words made Daniel bite down on a whine. His tongue, as well. Blood filled his mouth, warm and metallic, and it fucking hurt but the pain was outweighed by the satisfaction he felt when he heard the little hitch in Armand's breath.

Defiant as always, Daniel pressed his lips to the side of Armand's thigh, wetting his dark nylon with blood and spit.

Armand sounded just a tad less composed when he started to speak again, "Perhaps it didn't start with Sheila Thompson."

Daniel's mouth hung open when Armand's hand came down to card through his hair, fingers pulling hard on his curls just the way he liked. Tethering the line of affection and punishment.

"Perhaps it started in Modesto when you were a little boy following your mother around the house, hoping for a lick of attention even if it was a spanking. Perhaps you've always been a glutton for forced submission."

"You're adhering to Freud at your big age?" Daniel bit out. He was still humping Armand's leg like a dog.

The Vampire pressed his foot down harder.

"I am reading your mind," Armand said. "It says more about you that this particular shoe fits so well."

Daniel had a sarcastic retort about shoes on the tip of his tongue alongside the blood but he was too close to orgasm to do anything but let it all drool into one big mess. The pressure against his shaft was tethering painful, and it made his balls draw up.

He pressed his forehead against Armand's knee, like a priest at an altar, but he kept his eyes open so he could gape at the feline arch of Armand's feet within the shoe, the plump roundness of the pump's toe and how it shone in the artificial low light; Armand had rather dainty feet. It wouldn't have surprised him if these were a woman's heels that he was donning. Such graceful anatomy compared to the debauched nature of Daniel's. Daniel hugged those lean calves to his chest as he rode the red pumps to completion—

Armand pulled his legs from Daniel's grip and put the laptop there instead. When Daniel looked down at the screen, he saw that Armand had highlighted some sentences with red.

"The overall structure of the text is better than your last attempts, but there is much room for improvement," Armand said, as if he was Daniel's English teacher. Daniel was seventy years old and rock hard, and he was despairing.

"Gee, thanks," Daniel said through gritted teeth as he got back to work.

Turns out Daniel's lucky number was ten, or maybe Armand was just anal about even numbers.

"That's good," was Armand's raving response to Daniel's tenth draft, those insect eyes skimming the screen at a rapid speed. He was still massaging Daniel's erection with his heels. "Not a tear-jerker by any means, but it at least reads as legitimate. Yes, I think this will do."

"Yeah?" Daniel breathed out against the cool skin covering Armand's knees. He had been allowed to kiss up and down those lean legs while the Vampire proofread the document. Daniel had never been so grateful for scraps his entire life.

Armand snapped the laptop closed and put it away. He said, "Yes. You can take your cock out and finish on my shoes."

Daniel didn't waste one second.

He wasn't embarrassed when he pulled down the zipper and shoved his underwear down. He wasn't embarrassed when his dick sprung out and slapped him on the thigh, flushed at the tip and dripping dirty pearls of ejaculate onto his jeans. No, the only thing Daniel could feel as he took himself in his hand and furiously jerked off on those pretty pumps was relief.

Cold. The latent leather was as cold to the touch as Daniel imagined Armand to be. They were similar in that way, weren't they? Armand and the shoe. They were both made of dead animal skin, made plump and artificially shiny. Decorated with deathly sharp points that could be used to pierce through Daniel's chest. That thought only spurred him on. So did the hand that came down to pull on his curls.

"Perverted boy," Armand crooned, so goddamn condescending that it made Daniel irate. "Willing to sell your life for one orgasm. Where did the shame you felt for peeking up my skirt go?"

"You wanted me to peek up your skirt, you tease," Daniel grunted. The sound of skin slapping against the smooth leather was obscene to his ears. It made Daniel sink his blunt teeth onto Armand's thigh again. "You've got me exactly where you want me," he panted against the nylon there.

Nothing else in the world existed except for Daniel's body against Armand's limbs, and Armand's dulcet tones in his ear, speaking filth to him from a higher place.

"Yes, beneath me," mused Armand. Daniel swore he could hear him smile.

Those elegant fingers slid down his cranium and rested on the back of his neck, petting the downy curls there. It was a painfully affectionate gesture which reminded him too much of San Francisco, and something else. His orgasm sneaked up on him before he could linger any longer on that second thought.

"Fuck yes," gasped Daniel as he spilled all over.

It made a vision: the shiny red leather of the shoes was soiled with ropes of semen, some of the white dewiness also tainting the tops of Armand's nylon-covered feet. Daniel's mouth salivated at the sight.

It piqued Armand's interest, too. The stewardess hummed as he tilted his ankle every which way, watching the dewdrops catch in the light.

Daniel was still heaving for breath and basking in the afterglow when Armand put his foot down on his thigh, hard. Demanding.

“Clean them up."

Considering the fact that he was still reeling from an orgasm he had been denied for six hours beforehand, Daniel couldn't be blamed for the idiotic way he turned his head in search of a washcloth of some kind. The visceral image Armand put in his head made him stop in his tracks. He turned back to the menace towering over him, mortification etched onto his old face.

“You can’t be serious.”

Armand chucked down a throw pillow and said nothing else.

At a loss for anything else to do, Daniel removed his glasses and put them on the table near the laptop. He reckoned they'd just get in the way.

"Fuck these Vampires," he bit out as he grabbed the pillow and positioned it on the floor so he could kneel on it. "You should be thanking me, you know. Who knows how much longer you'd be playing Stepford wife if it wasn't for my meddling."

"Maybe I preferred playing Stepford wife," Armand retorted. "It was a simple living. Quiet. Peaceful. Be sure to clean my shoes properly or else I'll poke your eyes out."

"Yes, mommy," mocked Daniel, but it came out painfully authentic considering his current predicament.

Armand said nothing. Daniel could feel those eyes glare holes into the back of his neck as he bowed down to those pretty shoes, tongue darting out to catch his own spend. The taste was vaguely salty, earthy, and it did not mix well with the pumps' chemical note. He clenched his eyes shut and licked it up anyway.

His mouth glided across the rounded toe of the shoe, the tip of his nose rubbing against the cool leather. Daniel did his best to clean them, but it was a difficult task to accomplish when his eyesight was so shit. Armand did little to guide him. He simply sat there. Silent, statuesque. It was only when Daniel dared to lift himself from his servile position that the Vampire offered help; the bottom of his other heel came down onto the side of the old man's cranium hard, forcing his head down, cheek pressed to the floor.

"I said to clean them properly," said Armand. His voice might have been soft but the words left no room for argument.

The abuse shouldn't have made his blood rush south. Daniel didn't know what it said about him that it did. He couldn't afford to care.

With Armand's other heel still at his neck, Daniel lavished every inch of leather with his tongue, using the side of his nose to polish the spit into the shoe, rendering it gleaming and beautiful once again. The undignified noises coming out of his mouth were out of his control. He was terrified for his life, yes, but that fear turned into a familiar simmer between his legs. He screwed his eyes shut.

Good God, what the hell was wrong with him? Daniel hadn't managed a satisfying jerk off in countless months and here he was, his anatomy giving the most valiant effort on pitching a second tent over being treated like a foot stool on death row. Armand should have just killed him back in 1973.

"Mm, that's good," was Armand's praise. Daniel burned at it. "Don't forget my stockings, you managed to tarnish them as well. Really, Daniel. Did your mother never teach you how to treat a lady?"

You're no lady, you're a goddamn nightmare, thought Daniel, hopefully loudly enough for Armand to hear. He still did as he was told and pressed the flat of his tongue against the graceful arch of Armand's foot. Daniel wrapped his hand around the back of the heel as he began to press open mouthed kisses to Armand's dainty ankles. They smelt delicious. He hadn't meant to, but he slowly began to work his way up Armand's calf, until his head was nestled between the small space between the Vampire's knees. He nipped at the skin there, pulling on the nylon with his teeth and watching it snap back into place.

Armand's gloved hand shot out to curl into his hair; neither stopping his descent or encouraging it. It simply kept him there.

Daniel looked up at him, entirely at this creature’s mercy. What now?

The creature had stopped breathing. His eyes resembled twin eclipses as he looked down at the man bowed at his feet, the line of his jaw hard with tension. He almost looked upset, but the trembling of his thighs gave him away, the slow gyrate of his hips against the leather seat, seeking any sort of friction. So did the deep red flush darkening his cheeks.

Daniel's cock gave another pathetic twitch when he realized it was his blood flowing to Armand's face and giving him life. That fact really shouldn't have affected him but it did. Daniel would give him every drop of his shitty blood if it meant Armand would look this way forever.

Armand stood up and walked away. The heels that Daniel had worshipped like they were his God clacked against the linoleum floor all the way to the bathroom. Armand opened the door and vanished inside, shutting himself away with a gentle click.

Waiting for Armand to exit the bathroom reminded Daniel of sitting in his doctor's waiting room and agonizing over the test results for his physical exam, only with much more cum staining his jeans. Prostate exams rarely left him itching for a cigarette these days, but being dominated by a crossdressing Vampire for six hours straight apparently did it for him.

He sat in his previous seat again. It had been a grueling journey to maneuver himself from floor to chair, one that had left his knees and lungs equally winded. He took out a pack of Marlboro reds from his travel bag and lit one up because this was his private jet and he could do whatever he wanted. Daniel had burned through two cigarettes and lit another one in the time it took for the bathroom door to creak open.

Armand looked different when he exited the bathroom. Disheveled. His little neck handkerchief was askew and the skirt bunched up around his hips, showing even more of his thighs.

He stepped right up into Daniel's space, standing between his spread thighs. The close proximity meant that Daniel had to lean back into his seat to look him in the face. He hadn't put on his glasses again, which made the vision above him blurry. Daniel's hands twitched at his sides; desperate to map him out.

“What’s the verdict, Boss?” Daniel asked, smoke billowing out of his mouth. If he squinted his eyes just so, Daniel could glean how Armand leaned his weight into one leg and popped the other out, making the curve of his hips even more delicious to his dirty old man sensibilities.

Armand plucked the cigarette from Daniel's mouth and took a drag, his fingers gracefully curved around the filter.

The plane was silent as the Vampire ingested the smoke. The poison soaked through his undead lungs and escaped out of his lips, thick and heady.

"These will kill you," Armand scolded him.

"Yeah, there's a lot of things in this plane that can kill me," Daniel replied dryly. "I wrote my will. You let me come. Your shoes are squeaky clean. What now?"

Armand ashed the cigarette on Daniel's jeans.

“We fuck," he said.

Yeah, Daniel could garner that much from the raging hard-on almost poking his eye out. He swallowed thickly and asked, “And then what?”

With the cigarette resting on the plump center of his bottom lip, Armand stared Daniel down and slowly began to hike up his skirt.

“We fuck some more.”

The tops of the stockings were slowly but surely revealed to be made of dark, decorative lace. They dented the meat of Armand’s thighs in a way which made them spill out over the lace, barely held up by mahogany garters.

Daniel wanted to rip those little strips of fabric to pieces with his teeth. Chew on his thighs like an old dog with a brand new toy.

Tentatively, he lifted a hand to touch. Stroked the lace with the back of his hands before turning it around, watching how his aged, thick fingers spread out over the expanse of smooth flesh. He squeezed the pudgy tops of his thighs and marvelled at how the skin remained taut under his hold. Armand could take anything Daniel threw his way, couldn’t he? Another soft stroke. Would he?

The Vampire’s breath hitched in his throat, and Daniel didn’t care whether that was for show or not. God, his heart raced with the utter need to have this eldritch abomination bent over his lap, over the nearest flat surface. There was just one problem…

All the while lifting the skirt further up, Daniel drawled, “I don’t know how you’re planning on arranging that. My meds don’t exactly make me virile.”

“I have my means, Mr. Molloy,” said Armand, his nail cutting a thin, bleeding line on his thigh. Right above the stocking. “More potent than any pharmaceuticals on the market.”

His underwear was a lacy, deep red number, almost black in the low light. Its color matched the blood trickling down from the new wound. Daniel felt like Pavlov's dog when his mouth began to water at the sight.

Armand's hand curled up in the back of his neck, thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the hot skin there.

“Go on. I know you want to,” Armand crooned, voice soft as if Daniel had fucked the bass out of his vocal chords.

He did want it. He had felt a pull for it ever since he saw Louis suckle on that sweet artery back in Dubai, when Daniel thought Armand was nothing more than a beautiful servant boy. He had stayed up late that night agonizing over his own taboo desire; had it been for the boy who could very well be a decade younger than his oldest daughter, or had it been for the blood? There hadn't been a clear-cut answer. There still wasn't. What he did know was that the pull was even stronger now, and Daniel allowed himself to be dragged by it.

Daniel cradled those perfect hips between his hands before he leaned down onto the cut, nosing at the soft, hairless skin there. It smelt of nothing. Only iron. His shaky breath ghosted over the blood.

And then he wrapped his mouth around that little wound, and his entire world fell apart.

Louis and Armand didn't know what they were talking about. The blood wasn't like honey. No, the blood was fresh silk spun from gold. It was a total annihilation of the senses. He wrapped his trembling arms all around the back of Armand's thighs, his small waist, and he sucked for dear life. A sob escaped him.

If Armand's little drink was akin to heroin, then the taste of his blood was heaven itself.

Cruel, gentle hands coaxed him away from the wound. Gripped his chin between a thumb and a pointer finger and softly tilted his head upwards, and Daniel's mouth dropped open at the sheer beauty of what he was seeing.

Armand wasn't blurry anymore. No, he was brighter than the sun. He was… He was lovely.

Armand smiled. There was something sorrowful in that smile. Daniel didn't understand it.

"Good?" Armand asked, as if he had just given Daniel yet another martini and not the goddamn elixir of life.

"Fuck you," Daniel gasped. His current predicament made words completely obsolete.

The Vampire seemed vaguely amused by that. Without another word, he turned around and sauntered over to the chair opposite Daniel. The skirt had ridden up so much that Daniel could fully see his ass.

Once in front of it, Armand planted one knee on the leather seat. The other leg soon followed. Evenly spread apart.

"No, I think that will be your job," Armand mused as he wrapped his arms around the headrest and arched his back, so feline-like in his movements. He threw Daniel a knowing look over the shoulder.

"Do you think you can handle it, Mr. Molloy?"

Daniel was up on his feet in a second. He was quick to bridge the distance between them, dropping to his knees and palming at the flight attendant's plush backside with greedy hands. Next, he grabbed the panties and pulled them down.

Armand’s breath hitched at the manhandling. "Ah, the pillow—"

"I don't need the fucking pillow," Daniel barked out. Which was the truth. Daniel had no idea what black magic was in that blood, but a taste of it made him feel twenty years younger.

Daniel ghosted his thumb over Armand's hole, the little ring of muscle fluttered beneath his touch. "God, you've been holding out on me, huh? First with the blood, and now this."

"Daniel," Armand called out. He sounded impatient.

Well, that made it two of them.

He leaned in close and licked a long, filthy line over that tight little rim. There was no scent or taste there for Daniel to pick up. No warmth. Daniel could have been fooled into believing he was going down on a sex doll if it wasn't for the stunning way Armand arched into his mouth and gasped at every lap of his tongue.

He was quite good at exactly that. The arching and the gasps. The low moans pouring out of that pretty little mouth when Daniel began to jerk him off were the most sensual sounds he had ever heard in his life. Familicide aside, Daniel could't fathom how Louis let all of this go.

He also couldn't help but think that Armand could do much better when it came to rebound fucks, but Daniel won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"You are thinking too much," said Armand, curt. "And it's all rubbish."

Daniel pulled away to press a wet kiss against Armand's ass. "Stay out of my head," he grumbled as he entered one finger in, slicked with bloody precome.

Armand had another complaint ready, Daniel knew him well enough to tell, but it died out once Daniel began to massage his insides. The Vampire went very still instead, growing accustomed to the stretch. It was a tight fit even with his own eager preparation.

"Been a while since last time, huh?" Daniel asked. He staggered up to his feet again, his knees having grown a bit sore.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Armand lied.

Daniel laughed and shook his head. Fucking hell.

"I can't believe it. Pretty thing like you, left unfucked for even one night. That's a travesty if I ever heard one," Daniel continued to lament. His eyes were stuck to that magnetic sight which was Armand's hole sucking up his second finger, greedy as all hell. Daniel continued to punch them in and out of him, scissoring the Vampire open as he talked with an almost drunken fever, "Now if it was up to me, I'd have you laid however much you wanted. Multiple times a day, even. Oh, my dick fell off because you rode it too hard? Do that same thing to my face, please and thank you."

"Did you forget you were supposed to hate me?"

"I can multitask." Daniel snapped the elastics of Armand's stocking. "Lube?"

"I don't need any," said Armand through gritted teeth. He sat up more upright so he could reach behind himself with his impatient hands to undo Daniel's belt.

"You sure? You've caught a few glimpses of what I'm working with." Daniel squeezed his hip. "It's going to hurt."

The belt let out a mechanical cry as Armand ripped it apart. "Maybe I want it to hurt."

Feeling generous, Daniel let a thick line of spit drool from his lips down to Armand's hole.

Armand said he wanted it to hurt, yet when Daniel held him down and bullied his way inside— he let out a cry which sounded very much involuntary. He sounded like something breakable. Which he wasn't, not in the least, but that fragile little sound made Daniel clutch him closer to his chest anyway; one hand snaking around the Vampire's lithe middle while the other stroked his jaw, massaging the tension there.

Daniel kissed the shell of his ear. "Is this another form for self-harm? Because if that's the case then I'm not interested in indulging you," he said against the delicate skin.

That made Armand laugh. "And yet you're throbbing inside of me at the very thought."

The next thrust pushed all the air out of Armand's lungs. It elicited the very opposite reaction from Daniel, who couldn't inhale enough oxygen into his lungs to save his life. He was fully inside, and what a sensation it was. Armand was a vice grip around his cock, all clenching muscles and icy coolness, sucking him in like a black hole. Daniel's eyes fluttered closed. He dropped his head against Armand's shoulder.

It must have stung like hell for Armand. Yet the man curled one hand in Daniel's curls and softly lifted his face from where it was buried in his shoulder, turned his head to press a chaste kiss against the corner of Daniel's mouth. His other hand stroked the arm holding him down as if they were lovers. He had that certain glint in their eyes as if they truly were. Breathlessly, he said, "Don't be shy, Daniel, treat me like one of your women. Unlike them I can't break."

That was all the confirmation Daniel needed to shove Armand down onto the seat and tear through him.

They fucked some more.

Daniel had at one point removed Armand's blazer, revealing golden brown skin unmarred by time, chest waxed clean and cupped by a lacy red bralette. It matched with his discarded underwear and the garters. The pumps, as well. Suffice to say, Daniel had been ready for round-infinity after this revelation.

So they fucked. They fucked until Armand presumably grew bored and ripped his head off, like a black widow with its mate. Every time they finished, drenched in sweat and blood, Daniel would look over at Armand and think with a sense of finality, this is it. Peep that vacant look in his face, the fucker's finally done with me. And Armand would surprise him by nipping at his ear and wrapping an insistent hand around Daniel's flaccid cock, willing it back to life. He wasn't above bribery, either. Whenever the old man insisted he was too exhausted to go on, Armand would run his fingernail across the smooth expanse of his own flesh, marring the perfect skin with red lines dripping with black magic blood, and Daniel would lap up the droplets. Suck them clean from Armand's fingers before flipping them over, fucking the daylights out of the monstrosity beneath him.

Now, Daniel sat slumped and naked in his seat and watched Armand give him head. The sun had risen at one point, bathing the sublime creature beneath him in its hues.

Not that Daniel could see these hues very clearly anymore. It was a strange thing, the way his surroundings dulled in both brightness and clarity once the blood faded from his system. Everything was so gray and lifeless; except for him.

Armand was the only thing in this plane which kept its color. His cheeks were rosy after being fed and fucked properly, pink rhinestone-sweat cresting his forehead and cheekbones, dark lashes dewy and seductive as he looked up at Daniel through them. Daniel couldn't remember what the sun looked like in its lustre and that specific shade of amber at sunrise was equally lost to him. Daniel hadn't slept or eaten in 24 hours— none of that mattered because the sight of his cock vanishing inside that pretty little mouth was sustenance all on its own. So was the feel of it. Oh, the feel of it. His very soul was being taken apart one suck at a time. He found himself wondering again how the hell Louis could leave this behind. Not even true love could pull Daniel away.

Instead of saying that, Daniel cradled Armand's jaw in one hand, feeling the stretch of muscle there. Rubbed his thumb in soothing circles which made the Vampire sigh softly around his mouthful. If only he could understand what all of this meant.

Instead of saying that, Daniel uttered, “Give me it. I want it.”

Armand let go with a soft pop. His mouth was smeared with precum, like lip gloss. Those bright eyes of his turned vacant.

“You told Louis that you didn’t want the Dark Gift anymore," he said. His voice was hoarse. Bassless. Difficult to read, as well.

Daniel smiled ruefully. “I changed my mind.”

Armand climbed onto his lap without another word. Daniel welcomed him with open arms, wrapping them around the lithe figure grinding its perfect ass down against his cock. He buried his face in Armand's chest the first chance he got. He still wore the bralette because Daniel couldn't stand to part with it.

His hands went further down Armand's trim back until he was squeezing his ass in both palms. Kneading the flesh between his fingers, spreading them apart. Armand keened at the rough handling. That only spurred Daniel on.

"Come on, you can admit I'd be a good Vampire. I have a fully developed brain, for starters, that's a perk not many of you share," Daniel goaded on, licking up the pool of sweat which had built up on the hollow part of Armand’s clavicle. The taste of blood was present, but not strong enough.

"Fully developed, yes; also deteriorating."

That being said, Armand reached around to grip Daniel in his hand. He gazed at Daniel right in the eye as he sank down.

It was just as amazing as the first time. An ice bath to Daniel's sluggish senses. They rocked against each other lazily, too tired to put proper force behind it, not too tired to give it up.

"I think you want me to convince you to turn me. You wouldn't have kept me alive this long otherwise."

Armand curled his strong arms around Daniel's shoulders. His lips were parted and panting as he ground down on the cock inside him.

”You think you know everything, don't you?" he sneered onto Daniel's open mouth. There was a look in his eyes which begged to be proven otherwise.

"I'll tell you what I know," said Daniel, wrapping a hand around Armand's prick and pumping it, slow and steady. "I know I want to be immortal. I want to be immortal so I can see the world change into something completely alien. I want to be there when the sun implodes in itself so that I can make stupid jokes about getting sunburnt one last time. I want a chance to prove to you miserable fucks that the Dark Gift isn't eternal damnation. Good God, Armand, I want to live."

Armand's orgasm was ripped out of him, making his mouth drop open and eyebrows crease. His entire body went still as he painted Daniel's hand red, and the man had to fight the urge to lick it clean. He continued to rock into the tightness of Armand, his own orgasm creeping closer with each rocking motion of their hips. Daniel's fingernails sunk into the Vampire's hips as he watched him bask in the afterglow. It was a sight to die for.

When Armand leapt down to kiss him, Daniel kissed him back, of course he did. He opened up his mouth so that Armand could live inside there, pouring his needful moans right down Daniel's throat.

I'd rather die than see you die, Daniel, a soft, familiar voice whispered in his ear, barely distinguishable. Like a faded memory.

Daniel batted it away. He was too caught up in pleasure, in the way that Armand's bottom lip trembled against his own.

“You dislike gifts. You’d grow bored,” the Vampire insisted.

“With this? Never.”

The taste of that ambrosia filled his mouth. When Armand pulled away, Daniel saw that it was pouring out of his eyes. Armand cradled Daniel's sagging cheek in his hand, tearful face scanning his eyes for the truth. That aloof veneer cracked when he found it. Despair took its stead.

"Yes, alright," said Armand, his voice barely above a whisper. "If that is what you want."