There's a feeling that comes over Armand that he thinks didn't exist five hundred years ago. Arun, Amadeo, they both didn't understand what it was to possess something, and even Armand had been a desperate owner, hurrying to try and hold on to whatever he could. And yet, Daniel makes him feel, in ways that he can hardly explain.

And the sounds he makes, the way he looks at him, it threatens to undo him. He's created his companion, his eternal partner, and he couldn't be more satisfied.

"That's it," he soothes, in contrast to the sharp and violent thrusts, not caring a thing for what damage he's doing (which he'll heal later). "Your tongue is as clever as your words," he praises, "and your mouth as welcoming as every black hole you've ever been."

He's close. He's so very close.