brightyoungreporter

The sharp intake of air isn't an act. The casual way he talks to him, and Armand is back in the penthouse, his lip between his teeth, staring hopefully at Daniel like he was nothing more than the dutiful servant to a God, mindful of Mr. Molloy's every want and need.

If only he had been more vocal about his needs, back then.

He does wish he'd had time to find contacts and file down his nails, but this will suit for now. He's careful as he unzips Daniel, staring up at him from his kneeling position the whole time. "I suspected," he admits. "When you caught me in prayer, I believe that there was something more than curiosity in your eyes. I long to serve your every need, Mr. Molloy. It brings me great pleasure that I could be one of them."

Holy shit, is this doing it for him. His cock throbs in the night air, and he can't stop staring at that face, the bitten lip.

"I told myself I was being an idiot, and a perverted old idiot, but fuck, I couldn't squash it. I saw how devoted you were. If I'd had any idea... well. You're devoted to me now," and that's still a bit awed to be completely in character, but he can't help it, "and yeah, I need you." He reaches out, stroking Armand's jaw, and then taps at the hinge of it.

"Open, baby," he says, wrapping the command in nonchalance. "Hold onto my thighs, and open that gorgeous smartass mouth for me."

You're my master is a phrase that nearly passes Armand's lips. He's glad he has something else to focus on, grasping hold of Daniel's thighs and opening his mouth, slowly as he licks the corner of his lips to make a production of it, taking his time as he swallows Daniel deeply, only to ease back and begin his slow, methodical work.

There's nothing rushed about this. This is a blowjob he'd spent plenty of time on his knees thinking about, and now that he's here with Daniel, he aims for one goal and one goal entirely -- make him weak in the knees, and have him end this night praising his own god -- Armand.

"Oh my fucking god," Daniel groans, grateful he doesn't have to worry about breaking character at this point, because he's playing himself getting exactly what he wanted in those early Dubai days. His hand tightens in Armand's hair, and he just barely remembers what he promised.

He holds Armand still and pushes his cock further into the mouth that's as plush and sweet as he imagined. "That's it, you know exactly how to make this so fucking good, exactly what I want," and reminding himself that he doesn't need to account for breathing, thrusts a little harder.

Shit. Should he have made them pick a safeword?

He slows, pulling back with his hand still grasping Armand's hair, enjoying the view but still focused on getting the words out. "You're good, babe? You pinch me or something if we need to stop, and I expect you to tell me."

It's a sliver of a moment, barely registering, but Daniel's words bring him back to a time long ago when clients would say similar things, when they would praise him for his skills, praise Marius for his generosity, and Amadeo had been nothing more than a pleasing set of lips. And yet, Armand is not Amadeo or Arun any longer.

He cuts away that memory and devotes himself to what Daniel wants. This is what his current companion needs, and Armand is willing to twist himself into any shape to provide it. So he works his tongue over Daniel's cock and positions himself to allow for his face to be fucked, to be taken, for Daniel to receive what he wants and for Armand to have it too.

There is no pinching, only the pleasure he can deliver to Daniel, turning cat-like eyes up at him, a smug tease, a reminder of how good he can be (and Amadeo, that memory, vanishes a little more).

Despite having said it, Daniel in no way actually expects to be told to stop, and he releases his grip to cup Armand's jaw gently. It's awkward, but he drops down enough to kiss him on the mouth.

He wants to say it so bad, to have already said it so he can use it again.

"Any objection if I take you home now? Back to our place. Gotta get rid of the bodies too. I'm not sure I could actually come while they're watching me," he admits. The play had been fun, but his instincts, his Armand-sense, had started tingling.

Or else you freaked yourself out.

Either way, the bodies are starting to look awfully fucking dead and they're in public. He kisses Armand again, firm, tasting himself, making a content little sound-- even if his dick is in the breeze.

Edited 2024-09-07 04:18 (UTC)

Daniel pulls away.

The dissonance is whiplash to Armand, who doesn't move. He simply remains on his knees, alarmed that he's done something that didn't please Daniel. Else, why would he stop him? Why wouldn't he allow Armand to continue? The kiss is sweet, but sweet in this moment is a harsh burst of sunlight in a dark room.

He's not done. This is what he's good at, this is what he's good for. His past has shown him that the times he's wanted the most is when his skills are best put to use, and Daniel isn't allowing him to show that off.

Has he lost his skill? His talents? The doubt creeps onto his face now, not reacting to the kiss, a confused shadow washing over his face. "You didn't let me finish," is all he says, ignoring the commentary about the bodies or Daniel's request to go home. "...was it unsatisfactory?"

Okay, shit.

Daniel drops himself all the way into the sand, and pulls Armand into his lap. "No, it was-- way more than satisfactory, sweetheart. I know what I'm gonna say isn't very sexy cool vampire, but it's important to me."

He might be holding Armand too hard, but he can't find it in himself to loosen his grip.

"I freaked out because I thought I fucked up. I know you like, uh, a certain level of submission and I want to give it to you. I liked what we were doing, enough that I was just gonna... use you, and it freaked me out, that I could--" He lets out a sigh. "I don't want to be someone who does that to you. Except I really do wanna do those things to you. I'm sorry, I'm not making any goddamn sense."

His voice a little rough, he adds, "You're my love too, you know."

Armand allows himself to be tugged, a rag doll that does little more than be pulled around. Then again, is that not what he'd been for so long? Simply a pawn to be used? Yet, when Daniel speaks, he's not like the others. He's entirely different, because this is the furthest thing from what Marius or his friends had done. Even with the coven, there had always been a power element in his desperation to prove that he was maitre.

If it had been satisfactory and Daniel had stopped anyway, then it means he truly does ...

The words have always been there, but Armand suspects he hadn't believed them. How could Daniel have so easily moved on with Alice? And yet, he had destroyed that marriage and another. He had come back to Armand. Could it be that he truly does love him the way that Armand has yearned for? Uncompared, unlike the rest.

It strikes him that he's been silent too long, and he drags his voice from the depths to speak roughly. "I don't know if I enjoy it because I've done it for so long and it's what I expect, or if it's something I truly enjoy," he admits. "Five hundred years is a very long time for habits to form, especially when I haven't been..." His nose scrunches up, uncertainty appears on his face. "You could never use me the way others have," he says instead. "It's not possible. I'm the one who turned you. I'm your maker. There are dynamics at play now that don't make it like the rest."

The uncertainty unclenches something in Daniel's chest.

"Well," he drawls out. "I personally like variety. Kinda seems you might like it too, given how well you can boss me around." This, he punctuates by kissing the clean line of Armand's cheekbone. "You change yourself to make people happy, fine. Five hundred years is a long time to be doing it. I'm invested in making you happy. So fuck it, we do what we want and turn into people that make each other happy. Sound good?"

After a few beats, he adds, "I am absolutely giving myself a case of blueballs over this, but that's my own damn fault for stopping probably the greatest blowjob I can remember. You turned an idiot, maker of mine."

There is something with Daniel that feels different. Perhaps it had been their first meeting in 1973, followed by the years after. Daniel is the first person in his entire life that treats him the way he does.

Perhaps that means that Armand can change, too.

It's a terrifying idea, especially when he's so good at pleasing others, but even now, he wants to please Daniel. If this is what he wants, he'll do it. He'll do anything. "It's been some time since I've known simple happiness," Armand murmurs roughly, staring fondly at Daniel as he cups his face with both hands, tenderly looking at his fledgling. "Greatest, you say?" he can't help but tease. "You're not simply placating me?"

"I almost wish I was," Daniel answers, turning his face to bite one of those clawed thumbs. "I only stopped because I was worried about you. And I wasn't lying about the dead guys. Not used to getting a blowjob in front of them. Not yet."

He shifts so that Armand can feel some physical evidence; while the worry had cooled him off a little, he's still hard against the curve of Armand's ass, still wanting.

"The Rashid thing is fucking hot," he murmurs, kissing his maker. "Of course, I saw him as the kind to top from the bottom."

Armand's gaze falls back to the corpses in question. Rigor mortis is going to set in, but they have vampire strength to aid them and the darkness around them to do the trick. Armand considers the ocean and how far he'll have to go, but with a few rocks, he believes the aquatic life ought to do the work for them.

"Let me clean up," he says, a hand pressed reassuringly to Daniel's hip. "And then we'll return home. We can talk more about our arrangement." His mind is already percolating possibilities as he imagines what Daniel is mentioning.

Retain control, yet also be submissive? It's an interesting idea, and one he wants to consider.

First, there are the bodies. He's out of Daniel's lap and uses his speed, the stoppage of time, and several rocks to tie to the men's clothes, taking them out one by one at least a mile before dropping them into the ocean and watching them sink. The sharks and the fish will make work of them and with luck, they're the type of men that no one will miss.

He lands back on the shore with ease, striding to pick up his jacket as he buttons up again, holding an elbow out for Daniel to take. "Shall we?"

Daniel takes the time to put his dick away while Armand takes care of the bodies. By the time his maker has returned, he's sitting half-sprawled on the sand, watching with an openly besotted look and thinking about getting an aquarium.

He hops up, hand sliding into the crook of Armand's elbow. "Yeah, time to go home. Are we walking? Hypnotizing some poor cabbie? One of those situations means I have to keep my hands to myself." Making sure to waggle his eyebrows suggestively, he starts them up toward the boardwalk and streets once more.

Daniel really does look so lovely when he looks at Armand like that. It reminds him of those days throughout the seventies, when Armand had the decision to stay with his beautiful boy, even though he would be damning him to addiction. Never mind that Armand had yet to truly let go of Louis.

That's no longer an obstacle -- in either case.

"I'd like to walk," Armand admits. "We could go to mine for the evening," he suggests. "I live near the ocean, we could stop there and return home for dawn."

He's eager to see precisely where Daniel intends to put his hands, though perhaps he'll keep them to himself as they speak. "Earlier," he says, after he sharply inhales, "when I was on my knees, there was a moment I was not Rashid. I was Amadeo. But you must understand, beloved, that both of them are like other people to me. I can cut them away from myself, so that I no longer experience that."

"Yeah, take me back to yours," Daniel answers, enjoying the idea of it, something slotting into place in that shadowed part of his mind, where the memories used to live.

To his credit, or so he thinks, he doesn't slow or stumble when Armand confirms the very reason he'd stopped things on the beach. His grip tightens, protective toward-- well, all of them. Rashid, who he'd lusted for, Armand, who he loves, and Amadeo.

"Do you want to cut them away from yourself?" And if he could, why hadn't he? "I get that Rashid is more of a game. I didn't get the sense it was the same for Amadeo."

There's a nostalgia in this, especially with how many times Armand would simply appear in the city Daniel was in, and take him back to a fancy hotel, or a cheap motel, or somewhere he'd bought that fell in between. It's almost romantic, even.

He feels the grip tighten, but genuinely cannot imagine why. "It's easier to think of them as different people. For one, the memories aren't as strong as they used to be. On purpose," he admits, seeing as he's been quite cautious to do so, to prevent his own mind from fracturing. "And because when I lost my maker, I no longer felt like Amadeo."

And what was Rashid? "Rashid was protection," he admits. "I wasn't sure if you would recall me. I needed to make sure you didn't."

"I'm the last person to judge anyone's coping habits, given what mine were," Daniel says. He finds himself hoping that the lost maker is safely dead somewhere, all the way fuckin' dead. At the moment, it's better Armand can't read his mind.

"So if that's really what you want to do, or what you think's best, it's your decision." Not that he really expects Armand to buy that. But since they're being honest, he takes his turn. "I didn't know you in any way I understood. I thought I was fascinated by you because you were-- well, beautiful. Devoted to your service. Definitely a smartass."

Glancing sidelong at Armand, admiring his fine profile in the moonlight, he murmurs, "But I felt something else, too, I had dreams that would melt away. Feelings I could blow off as my regrets about dying while closeted."

"I remember yours," is Armand's sorrowful reply, his smile sad. He had fed into them, leading to the downfall of their relationship. Sometimes, he wonders what it would have been like if he hadn't coaxed and plied Daniel with so many wicked things, but he suspects it always would have ended where it did.

"Autonomy, true autonomy, is new to me. If it wasn't my master, who became my maker, then it was one of the covens, and then Louis. Being with you, around you, is the first time I haven't felt I needed to perform or hide my truer nature. I suppose now it's just a matter of discovering who I am."

"If I were crueler, I would suggest that I should do that on my own, but I'm too selfish for that," he informs Daniel, and holds a little tighter as he brings them to his door, using his powers to open the lock. "Do tell me about your dreams, beloved. I want to hear whether your memories were clawing at your consciousness to get out."

"For the record, I'm a big fan of who you already are. Maybe there are parts of me that do remember, that factors who we were together into it with what I see now."

He steals a kiss as they pause at the door, maybe to steel himself ever so slightly to say, "If that was what you really wanted or needed, I'd do it. I'd be miserable, but I'd do it. So thank fuck for that selfishness."

Another kiss, this one lingering, and Daniel murmurs, "Lots of sex, but that's not surprising. Dancing, lights. Hearing you laugh. That was the best one. We were in bed, and I made you laugh."

Armand tips his head to the side, almost as if he intends to scold Daniel. "As I am?" he echoes. "You know so many of the terrible things I've done. I don't regret any of them," he admits frankly, which is something he's never said to Louis before, because it didn't behoove the situation.

And yet, he doesn't. If anything, he only regrets not getting away with it.

He tugs Daniel inside with him, bringing him into the sparsely furnished space -- after all, he lives with Daniel, why bother with this one? "We did go to several nightclubs," he admits, draping his jacket on the table as he begins to unbutton his shirt. "And, I'm sure that you did make me laugh," he says, frowning slightly now. "I'm not sure I can recall when."

Is this another memory he's lost? Perhaps it hurt too much to remember that he couldn't have it anymore, and that's why he buried it.

"Do you think I'd say it if I didn't mean it? That I'd be here?"

Here, finding a place to toss his own jacket, already determined to kiss the frown off Armand's face (no matter how aesthetically pleasing it is). Daniel waits until Armand's done fussing with his clothes to head over and pull him close, head ducking to the open collar of his shirt, the skin revealed there.

"So I'll keep trying until I manage it again," he says. "See, I've got centuries to get it right."

"I think people say a lot of things when they want something," Armand points out, his brow raising as he watches Daniel shed his own clothing. "You are signing up to be with a monster. Most people would run. The fact that you don't is one of the reasons you are so very beloved to me."

It's why Armand loves him. He sees the monster and wants him even more for it. He's never found that before.

His eyes fall shut as he grins, ridiculously pleased, as Daniel begins to work at his skin. He sheds the shirt in a pile on the ground, leaning back to let Daniel hold him. "Maybe if I begin giving you the memories, we'll both start to remember."

"Pretty sure I already signed up," Daniel points out, hands dragging up skin warm from recent feeding, nosing at the hinge of Armand's jaw. "Also, you sat and watched me dismantle seventy-plus years of your life, and turned me anyway. I gotta assume you like it when I pin you down to find the truth of you. Which," and he sweeps the hair from the nape of Armand's neck, nipping him there, "is a huge turn-on to a guy who's programmed to do that."

He hums, contemplating the idea of the recovered memories. Of course he wants them back; he'd been ready, at a couple points, to chase them down, to extract what he's missing if Armand didn't offer them up.

So why does he feel the vague tug of misgiving?

"Is it hard to hold onto them by yourself?" he asks, side-stepping his worry.

"I enjoyed watching you do that. Do you really think I would have let you if I didn't?" Yes, he had tried to retain control, but he had handed Daniel ever single piece of evidence and resource he would need.

The fact that he'd so admirably taken Armand and Louis apart is proof that Armand's faith in him hadn't been misplaced. He inhales sharply at Daniel's mouth on his neck and the light bite, his grin growing smugger as he revels in being able to delight in the prize of an immortal companion -- and the fear that no longer haunts him that Daniel will grow to hate him.

He shifts slightly, tangling his fingers through Daniel's hair to tug him off his neck, staring into his eyes as he drags his nails lightly over Daniel's scalp. "I worry that if I hold them too long, they'll grow tainted or obscured. They won't be as preserved as I'd like. I have a tendency to warp the truth, and I know how much you like the unedited version of events."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject