Armand's drifting into a fantasy. He's in heaven, if a monster like him ever deserves eternal paradise. And if there is such a place, then it will be here, on the tip of Daniel's tongue, making him feel this bliss.

"Daniel," is a soft murmur, high praise as he strokes his long nails through his hair, wanting him to know just how much he cherishes him, for more than this -- and yet, in this moment, very much specifically for this.

"May I fuck your face harder?" he asks, ever the gentleman.