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If Daniel had to pinpoint the moment that set them on this path, he would probably have to blame it on his big mouth in the Met. It had been a nice little date (even though Daniel still hasn’t sure if he wanted to be romanced by Armand the same way his maker had romanced Louis) and they were in the Mary and Michael Jaharis Gallery (thank you, Armand, for that information) looking at statues older than Armand. Armand had a look on his face that said that he was thinking about enduring (“That is the lot of vampires, Daniel—to endure when all else is allowed the rest of death and the failure of memory.”), which wasn’t a line of thought that Daniel wanted to pursue on what was supposed to be a fun “date night.” So, of course, like an idiot, Daniel opened his dumb mouth to make a crass comment about the little pecker on the statue he was standing in front of.
The comment was met by silence, which could mean any number of things, but when Daniel finally turned to look at Armand, the other vampire was frowning at him, the expression a mixture of disappointment and ire (and something else that made Daniel’s heart rate pick up). Daniel was treated to a lecture about Greek aesthetics and the use of “phallus size” as a symbolic measure of character. The cool, detached way that Armand talked about artistic depictions of Ancient Greek dick had the unfortunate side effect of making Daniel’s not-so-little pecker perk up, something that Armand did not fail to notice. He had sneered at Daniel, amber eyes flickering down with disdain, and pointedly remarked, “Large genitals were a sign of stupidity. Those with a big penis were thought to be controlled by their lust, more beast than man.”
And well, they were now putting that assessment to the test.
Daniel was kneeling on the floor of their bedroom, tied up in an elaborate contraption of red silk rope crisscrossing across his body. His forearms were tied together behind his back, hands on his elbows, his chest forced forward. His thighs and calves were wrapped up together in a way that was altogether too reminiscent of a roulade for Daniel’s tastes. In fact, looking at himself in the floor length mirror he was placed before, all of the comparisons he could come up with were vaguely unflattering comparisons to cookery techniques, the rope digging into his flesh and accentuating the excesses of time and indulgence. His tits were framed in a mockery of a bra, two triangles of rope mirroring the drooping peaks of his nipples. His stomach rested, despite all the extra support, against the tops of his thighs. And from beneath the soft fold of his belly, a mind boggling web of rope led to his cock, jutting out, with a ring of rope looped around the base and then back up his ass crack.
Daniel had been left there to think and consider his own body—well, he’d specifically been ordered to consider his dick and prove that his mind could overcome his lust. He wasn’t doing so well on that final point. Look at his body? Easy. Control his cock? Difficult, impossible even. The harder Daniel tried to will his erection down, the harder, it seemed, his dick got.
Armand reappeared now, perfectly pressed in slacks and a turtleneck, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of an hour working Daniel into a panting mess and then depositing him on the floor to be tied up and posed like Daniel was chosen to be the centerfold of some hardcore porn rag for fans of the geriatric crowd.
Armand rounded Daniel to stand in front of him. His body blocked most of Daniel’s view of the mirror, but he stood with his legs spread, giving the perfect glimpse of Daniel’s cock in between his trouser-clad legs. His feet were encased in a pair of shined leather brogues, the toes pointed in an elegant taper. One of those shiny leather shoes came forward to press against the base of Daniel’s cock, the sharp tip digging in right where his dick met his balls. “Disgusting, no one has touched you in quite some time and yet your member remains erect.”
To neither of their surprises, Daniel had failed at his task.
Armand dragged the tip of his shoe up and then rested his heel on the ground so that he could press Daniel’s cock into his stomach. “This is undoubtedly a sign of your beastly nature and it was a mistake on my part to believe you capable of controlling yourself. That would require far too much mental capacity for one such as yourself.”
Daniel could only groan at the pressure, Armand’s words threading up his chest to lodge in the base of his skull. They were hypnotic and he felt a little shame at Armand’s indictment. He was 71 years old and two years in the blood and still got hard at the drop of a hat. He didn’t care about how he looked when he was out with Armand (and, if he was honest, he felt pretty damn good with Armand on his arm, especially when people looked at him in disgust), but he did feel like a perv when something would unexpectedly remind him of his torrid, 12-year affair with Armand. Sometimes he’d get hard in public around strangers because someone was playing a dad rock radio station (as his kids would call it) and Living After Midnight came on or someone walked by wearing Eau Sauvage.
He felt out of control sometimes and it was embarrassing even though Armand (once he’d reappeared) had said that it was normal, that all fledglings experienced some version of this. (“Your senses are brand new, it is only natural to experience the world with greater zeal.”) It was just Daniel’s luck that the way he was taking to his new senses, his body once more come alive, was to be unbearably horny. Probably a side effect of having spent years dulled to his own body by age and medication.
“Mindless beast,” Armand spat at him and Daniel realized he was humping against the sole of Armand’s shoe. Armand ground his shoe in harder. Daniel yelped, but his cock dribbled, precome dripping down his shaft to land on the tip of Armand’s shoe. “And now you’ve soiled my shoe.”
Daniel gasped when Armand lifted his foot and brought it up over Daniel’s shoulder to push Daniel over, forcing him face first into the floor. Without his hands to catch himself, Daniel smashed full force into the floor—his nose crunched with a sick sound and he slumped with his weight on his shoulders as his nose began pouring blood onto the hardwood floors. Daniel spluttered and choked on his own blood in an attempt to cry out and swear.
Over the rush of blood in his ears, Daniel heard Armand sigh. “Try not to soil my shoes further.”
For a long moment, Daniel just lay there, slumped over and trying to think above the ringing in his ears. Finally, Daniel lifted his head slightly, craning his neck back. He felt his nose trying to heal, but it was crooked. Still, the blood slowed to a drip, thickening until it pooled in his philtrum before spilling over into his mouth, a sluggish waterfall.
Only then did Armand place his foot right next to the puddle of blood and, tapping the toe on the floor, order, “Clean your filth off my shoe.”
Daniel groaned, but his mind was far away, floating on a sea of blood and pain. What little fight had remained on his body had drained away with the blood falling from his nose, and all it left behind was the part of him that was small and stupid, dumb and desperate. He inched forward slowly, a squirming worm, and smeared blood on his face and chest. Still when Armand’s shoe was right in front of his face, he licked his lips as clean as he could before sticking his tongue out to lick the leather. Wiggling just that little bit further forward, Daniel could just rest his cheek on the floor with the tip of Armand’s shoe in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the tip, Daniel kept licking even when the leather was clean.
“That’s enough.” Armand jerked his foot back but then brought the bottom of it back to Daniel’s face. Pressing down, he ground his shoe into Daniel’s nose. Another crunch and more blood. If he had the mind to think about it, Daniel would have realized that his nose was being straightened out to give his vampire physiology the opportunity to heal him properly this time, but Daniel could only howl as his nose was rebroken under the unyielding toe of Armand’s shoe.
Daniel shook in his place on the ground, eyes screwed shut. And because of that he didn’t see Armand’s kick coming, swift and sure to his side so as to flip him over on his back. He landed with a loud thump, arms trapped underneath him, and legs spreading, leaving his traitorous dick exposed, softened but not flaccid.
Armand scoffed and moved so that he stood between Daniel’s spread legs. Another kick, quick and sharp, this one landing just beneath Daniel’s balls to strike at his tender perineum. Daniel gave a garbled groan, choking on the blood flowing from his nose to the back of his throat, and shuddered, his body no longer sure if it should try to flinch away or simply sink into the blows. “Look at you, so eager for pleasure even now.”
Yes. He swallowed down the blood pooling in his mouth, barely tasting it. Daniel moaned helplessly, heedlessly, and humped the air, feet planted tenuously on the ground. His cock, his vulgar cock, swayed and bobbed with the movement, desperate.
“It’s a vile thing you have between your legs,” Armand continued, his cool, imperious gaze and detached tone only making Daniel feel more hot and wild. “Large and unseemly. But I suppose you can’t help it, you’re just a dumb beast after all.”
A hot flush of shame flooded Daniel’s chest as he felt his cock jump at Armand’s words. Stupid dick, stupid body, stupid animal, writhing on the floor, wanting anything that Armand deigned to give him.
For a moment, the only sound that filled the room was the thick slap of Daniel’s cock against his stomach and thighs as he continued to thrust senselessly into the air. Daniel felt the shaking of the fat on his thighs and his stomach and moaned knowing that Armand, perfectly sculpted Armand, was watching him debase himself further and further and further, becoming more and more the mindless beast Armand accused him of being.
Armand sighed, the sound disappointed, “You’re just a nasty rutting dog. Can’t do anything except chase that which will give your vulgar cock release.”
Daniel whined, trying to form words, needing more. A hand, a shoe, anything but the empty air and the erratic brush of his own skin against his cock.
“I will not sully myself by touching your member,” Armand announced, as if he could still read Daniel’s mind. “If you want to rut against something, you can rut against the floor.”
Less than a dog then—even a dog might be granted a leg or a pillow—but Daniel was undeterred, sunk so low. He tried to follow the suggestion but only managed to tip over onto his side, but at least like this it was easier to clench his thighs together, seeking any sort of friction.
Mercifully, Armand hooked his heel in the crook of Daniel’s elbow and pulled Daniel back onto his front, back into the blood that had flowed from his nose. The blood, just his own blood but blood nonetheless, made Daniel’s gums ache. He didn’t have the wherewithal to keep his fangs from dropping as he panted open mouthed on the floor. Armand tutted but Daniel was beyond caring, the throbbing in his cock, his gums, his gut, sending his mind spiraling away every time he tried to grasp a thought beyond giving in to his basest instincts. He drooled, lapping at the blood, and moaned, rutting his hips weakly into the ground, unable to find the purchase needed to do more than that.
“Even your fangs are indecent,” Armand murmured.
“Please,” Daniel managed to gasp out as he tried to inch towards Armand, desperate for contact, even if just the touch of Armand’s shoe on his face.
Armand drew his foot back, “You don’t even know what you’re asking for, other than blood and sexual release. You’re lucky I pity you.”
Daniel tried to twist his head up, but managed only to lift his gaze to Armand’s knees. Still, he felt his whole body burn when, suddenly, the scent of Armand’s blood filled the air before drop by drop it fell to the ground by his mouth. Daniel thrashed in his bindings, straining towards the nectar being offered to him, and sighed when he finally managed to smear Armand’s blood onto his lips and tongue. “This is all you’ll get for I would never let fangs such as yours pierce my flesh.”
Drip. Onto the corner of Daniel’s lips.
Drip. Onto Daniel’s tongue, stuck out without a care for how he looked lying prone on the floor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Daniel trembled, feeling mad with the blood.
The slickness between his belly and the floor, the consequences of his leaking cock, only grew as he shivered at Armand’s feet, hips twitching.
A sigh from above, then a shoe pinned him down by the small of his back, pressing Daniel’s cock into the floor. Daniel moaned, writhing as best he could, with the foot on his back easing up then forcing his hips back down, finally giving his cock, a thick, hot line leading from his groin to above his belly button, the pressure he craved.
The stimulation was cruel, but the coldness, the unyielding, uncaring press of hardwood, only made Daniel more frantic. Anguished cries and breathless whimpers spilled unbidden from his lips, and blood tears leaked from his eyes.
His only thoughts were an endless chanting of please, please, please.
“Is this not enough?” The question was accompanied by another crushing press of Armand’s shoe into Daniel’s back, the tip just dipping into the crack between his cheeks.
Daniel struggled to articulate or even form an idea of what he needed, but he only managed to let out a confused, warbling keen. In another state of mind, he would’ve been embarrassed, but under Armand’s foot, he was beyond embarrassment. There was only the grounding weight of Armand, the unsatisfying wood beneath him, and the curdled pleasure sitting in his stomach. He wanted to come, he wanted so badly to come, but as eager as his cock was, he needed something more and he neither knew how to give it to himself or how to ask Armand for it.
The foot on Daniel’s lower back eased up and away, causing Daniel to cry out at the loss, breath hitching with the beginnings of a sob. His arousal took a sharp turn towards pain and he shuddered and shook, needing Armand to pull him back into the realm of pleasure. The feeling in his chest grew until it spilled over into wet, heaving gasps.
He was senseless with it, the overwhelming emotion crawling out of his throat and the confusing sharp edge of his continued arousal. He lay as he’d been left, begging wordlessly through his tears, until a hand began carding through his curls. Above the sound of his crying, there were gentle words that he couldn’t understand, but the cadence and timbre of that voice quelled the beastly chasm threatening to swallow Daniel whole.
Daniel only felt relief when the hand in his hair tugged, yanking him up, and deposited his face into a firm lap. The hand in his hair stayed there, tensing then relaxing, pulling his hair in a soothing, rhythmic pattern. Another hand came down to stroke Daniel’s cheek before fingers delved into his open mouth, probing and caressing his tongue even as he hiccoughed and sniffled. He licked and sucked those fingers, finding solace in their presence. The panic came flaring back when the fingers left his mouth, but they didn’t go far away.
Even as far gone as he was, Daniel still felt his whole body strain forward when the other hand opened up the fly by his face and pulled out a shapely, uncut cock. His mouth watered, drool and tears slipped down the side of face to wet the wool beneath his cheek. He was tugged forward by his hair until he could take that perfect cock, half hard, in his mouth. He suckled weakly, soothed by the weight on his tongue, and closed his eyes.
“That’s what you needed, my little beast, my mindless boy, so desperate to have your cock touched and your mouth filled.” Daniel couldn’t parse the words being spoken but he understood the sentiment and sucked harder, grateful. “Your pathetic cock is not worthy of my touch but you can come like this. You will come like this.”
Daniel sighed around the cock in his mouth as his head was pressed down by the torso above him, a comforting compression as the hand not in his hair found its way to the small of his back, encouraging the renewed motion of his hips. Eyes closed, Daniel felt safe, held close and kept away from the revealing gaze of the universe.
His sniffles became quiet, breathless moans. The terrible pain of arousal eased under the fingers in his hair and on his back, it softened as the cock in his mouth hardened. This warm pleasure gathered low in his belly, building and building, always under the control of the hands that held him, until he tumbled over the edge and his whole body was suffused with light. He was barely aware of his cock jerking and spilling beneath him, almost as if it weren’t his.
When Daniel returned to himself, he was clean of blood, sweat, drool, and come, tucked against Armand’s side with his face hidden in the crook of his neck. He pressed closer, wishing he could climb inside Armand and never come out.
The hand stroking his hair came down to cup the base of his head, guiding his lips to rest against Armand’s jugular vein. “Drink, beloved.”
Daniel whined, some part of him still on the floor licking up Armand’s blood, but Armand shushed him, “Come now, drink.”
Squirming, Daniel opened his mouth but found himself, for maybe the first time since his turning, unable to call forth his fangs. He mouthed futilely at Armand’s neck, whining, until Armand reached up to cut his own neck with a nail, as if Daniel were thirty and human again. Daniel latched onto the cut, lapping up the blood until, when he was finally able to relax into the blood, his fangs dropped and he was able to sink them into Armand’s neck.
“There you go,” Armand murmured, holding Daniel close as he drank.
When Daniel licked the punctures closed, Armand gently pulled Daniel back so that their eyes could meet. Daniel stared dutifully into Armand’s eyes until the eye contact became too painful for him to sustain, eyes sliding to the side to Armand’s ear and down to his neck.
“Let me see your beautiful fangs,” Armand ordered, gentle and warm. Daniel let his mouth fall open and shivered when Armand traced over his fangs with a fingertip.
“My fledgling, my firstborn,” Armand crooned. Daniel’s eyes slid closed under Armand’s scrutiny. Finally, Armand pulled him close again and kissed him on the top of his head. “Rest, beloved, rest.”