[armand]

[brightyoungreporter]

Daniel, historically speaking, is terrible at this. He'd been a shitty boyfriend, and then a shitty husband; dates were either the standard dinner and a movie, or more likely, centered around whatever story he was chasing.

The only time in his life that he suspects he might have been any good at romance is the part of his life that's been erased, and no shortage of irony here, by the vampire he's trying to woo tonight.

(He's aware he should give more of a fuck about that, but he just doesn't.)

So he asks Armand to meet him at the Boardwalk, and he uses the power of technology and anonymous dating apps to arrange dinner later, and even though he's got Armand's blood in his veins, he's a little nervous. What memories he's recovered, his turning-- it's not just his health that's returned and sharpened. An emotional component exists, the return of feelings he thought he'd been too cold and truth focused to feel.

Turns out he was just missing most of his heart.

Leaning against the railing, listening to the ocean, he decides not to lead with that.

Comments

[brightyoungreporter]

For the few spare moments where he can still think, Daniel's grateful his mouth is full, and then his throat, and then he can't say any of the babbling thoughts that would come out as sheer fucking nonsense. He can give a punched-out sob or two, raising his eyes to Armand's.

And then thought leaves him entirely. He grips Armand's thighs to keep himself steady, and he lets the words flow over him as Armand fucks his mouth, lets his whole body speak in loud agreement. He is Armand's, body and soul.

God, he's missed it.

[damned_devil]

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.

[brightyoungreporter]

Daniel can feel his eyes welling up hotly, but he doesn't have to see them to know they have to be full of adoration. His grip on Armand's thighs only tightens, nails digging in until they draw blood.

They might not be able to communicate telepathically, but he doesn't think they need it. He whines again, needy, his throat working around Armand's cock, feeling the connection between them, the bond of their blood.

The more Armand seems to lose control, the more blissed out Daniel feels, pulling a hand from Armand's thigh to push between his own.

[damned_devil]

It's been decades since he felt this worshipped. In the early days with Louis, Armand had felt as if he could dominate the world, especially when he'd discovered Lestat's fondness for his companion, and yet, Daniel takes that and makes that flame look like a paltry candle. What is it about Daniel Molloy that makes Armand so uncontrolled? So utterly pulled in?

Whatever it is, he can no longer think on it as reaction consumes thought and he grabs at Daniel's curls to sharply haul him in, so that when he does come, there's no question about it -- Daniel will swallow, as much as he can, and will endure the mess of whatever he can't.

"Beloved," he praises, half-hitched and keening. "I l..." And the words are gone, swallowed by his orgasm.

[brightyoungreporter]

Beloved.

It's not the first time he's heard it from Armand's lips, and here, as he kneels and gulps messily around Armand's twitching cock, he preens about it. In this moment, he can't find any doubt in him that it's meant, that Armand loves him.

Whether or not his throat has been too shredded to talk about it doesn't matter. He can give Armand something apparently no one else has, mind-bogglingly enough: his devotion.

So he swallows until he can't, and doesn't move, looking up at Armand with eyes that reflect the color of his own.

[damned_devil]

Armand's smile is half-dazed, but all pleasure as he reaches down to cup Daniel's face with a tender hand, careful that his nails don't scratch and slice away at delicate skin that he's been pleased to watch grow older with time.

His beloved, who is staring back at him with eyes that confirm his claim of ownership.

It's almost too much, and Armand is in a haze of pleasure, both from the orgasm and the delight of Daniel taking him so readily, so expertly. He takes care to brush at the mess he's made with his thumb, bringing it to his own mouth to suck. "Tell me, Daniel," he murmurs fondly, a tease in his eyes. "Were you always this good with your mouth? Or is this another skill you earned with age?"

[brightyoungreporter]

"Babe," he rasps, "I wasn't blowing anyone after you. You were it, even if I didn't remember." God, his voice is fucking shot.

It's worth it, to see all those shifting expressions as they ripple over Armand's face.

He's already down on his knees, throat raw and face slick with god knows how many fluids, so he doesn't think he can make himself anymore vulnerable as he pushes out a question. "Hold me?"

[damned_devil]

The dream continues. Daniel has alluded to this before, of course, but the notion of his boy belonging to him, and the claim being permanent is a heady and important thing. He's quickly to his knees as he uses a nail to slice into his wrist, offering the droplets to Daniel to drink, eager to heal whatever damage he's done.

"Drink first," he insists, the other hand still stroking and cleaning what he can before he does a proper job. "Allow me to care for you." He always knows how, even if his companions may disagree with him. And yet, he will never stop trying. "And I'll hold you so tightly, you suffocate," is a fond tease.

[brightyoungreporter]

The heady splash of Armand's blood against his tongue, the way it soothes as it goes down, feels as much like a reward as anything else. It probably was, he guesses distantly, when he was young and human.

He'll take all the care and coddling Armand wants to offer right now, and after a few mouthfuls of blood, he pulls his mouth back just enough to press a lazy kiss to the wrist wound. "I love you," he says, the words tumbling out free and easy.

[damned_devil]

Armand soothes his own wound as he rubs his blood against it to seal it, crawling after Daniel to take his hand, pulling him to his feet as he basks in the simple joy of having those lovely three words said to him.

They're in him, too. He knows they are. He hasn't been able to sound them out, for a myriad of complicated reasons, and yet, he wants to. He very much wants to give them to Daniel, but for now, what he can do is settle Daniel in bed, speedily returning with wet cloths to tidy him, pressing fond and absent kisses to his shoulder, his chest, and every bit of him he can access in the meantime.

"I had a lovely evening," he praises. "Very romantic of you, making sure I'm taken proper care of," he continues, climbing into bed with him, resting his chin on Daniel's chest. "Is there anything else you want from tonight?"

[brightyoungreporter]

Maybe Armand doesn't say it back, but it's not something Daniel said expecting a return on it-- and it's not like Armand doesn't say it in the way he bustles around at vampire speed, until they're settled, clean and healed, into bed.

"This is good," he answers. "This is really good. I just want to stay like this, we can head back to my place tomorrow." It's his turn to press his mouth to the top of Armand's head, to his mouth, to his forehead and cheeks. "I like to see you happy," he adds on a yawn.

[damned_devil]

It's an odd thing. Marius had been occupied with taking care of Amadeo, but not his happiness. Louis had tended to Armand's happiness, but in his own way, and in the end, the shadow of their pasts had blotted that out.

Daniel, he has tortured and tormented and obfuscated and lied to. He's tampered with his memory, and yet, he loves him.

How strange he is. How wonderful. How fascinating. "I'll aspire to always tell you when I am," is a vow he believes he can keep. "Rest, Mr. Molloy. I'll wake you before sunrise."