Chapter Text
“Molloy.”
The cop’s voice echoed off the concrete walls and reverberated in his skull. Daniel groaned and rolled onto his side. For a moment he had to put his hands over his face and will himself not to get sick.
His fall from grace had been swift but inevitable. Daniel had gone from staying in the finest rooms at the Danieli to lying on the floor of the Manhattan Metropolitan Correctional Center’s drunk tank in just a handful of months. And what incredible, fucked up months they’d been. What had started out as being pursued by Armand was now being pursued by Armand, in the most shocking and carnal ways.
Daniel could never predict where he’d turn up or when. Sometimes he’d go days without seeing his vampire familiar, only to have him walk out of a convenience store and fall into step beside Daniel, quizzing him on where he was going and what books he’d recently read. And that’s all it would be. A heated conversation, a quick touch on the shoulder, the arm. The brush of frigid fingers against his forehead. And then Armand would be gone, leaving him to wonder where he’d appear next, and why he’d shown up at all. But then other times-
Well, Daniel was beginning to see a pattern to those. On the nights Armand appeared with that obscene mouth of his twisted into a frown, Daniel knew he was in for it. Armand would work himself into a state, ranting about some horrible aspect of the modern world until he lost whatever shred of self-restraint he was clinging to and got his hands down Daniel’s pants.
In Port Au Prince Daniel had been treated to a symposium on the modern concept of what it meant to be a man, until Armand turned that wicked smile on him, backed him into a corner, and proceeded to show him what ‘sensuous pleasures’ he had been exposed to in his youth. Hand on Daniel’s jaw so he couldn’t look away, Armand had given him a handjob that made him gasp like a dying man and then left him alone to mop up his own mess.
In Milan he’d been roused by a phone call at 2am. Armand pressed him on what he thought it meant to be good or evil. Daniel, exhausted and jet lagged, mumbled something semi-intelligent and nodded along until Armand demanded to know what he was wearing at that moment. Well, that had certainly woken him up. For someone who hadn’t known how to use a phone until a couple months prior Armand had figured out phone sex awfully quick, and left Daniel moaning into his pillow as he spilled into his own hand.
Similar events had followed in Liverpool, in Cleveland. In some rinkydink town outside Atlanta Daniel didn’t even know the name of. Every time it left him exhilarated and bewildered.
It wasn’t like he was some passive victim of all of this. No, Daniel had loved every quiet demand, every sharp tug to his hair that brought tears to his eyes and sent him to his knees. It was just that he hated the aftermath, that was all.
He’d never thought of himself as needy, but whenever Armand left him with a tissue and a pat on the head he felt like shit. Sure, Daniel had ‘done well’ or whatever pithy bit of praise Armand thought to offer him that evening, but what did that matter when he’d wake up alone and spiral over it the next day? And Armand, either unknowing or just uncaring, would disappear and leave him to stew for a handful of days until he turned up again as if nothing had happened at all. They never spoke about it. Armand would just appear out of nowhere with some weird philosophical question and proceed as usual, grilling Daniel until he was too tired to hold up his end of the debate any longer.
Daniel felt like some melodramatic teenager, stumbling around New York and knocking back shots because his - lover? Vampire fuck buddy? Tormentor Extraordinaire?- never kissed him on the mouth. Or anywhere at all.
“Get up, Molloy. You’re free to go.”
The cell door opened with a clank. Daniel pushed himself to his knees, and then with a hand on the wall for support, stumbled to his feet. Nausea swirled in his stomach, made his eyes water. An ice cold hand gripped his and helped him out of the cell.
Armand.
“Where the hell have you been?” Daniel slurred.
Armand’s hair was clipped short and the tweed suit he wore aged him beyond his teenage years. He looked like a young professional, a lawyer fresh out of school, and that would have been a turn on if Daniel didn’t feel ready to curl up and die. He gripped Armand’s immortal and unfeeling arm tight and stumbled his way out of the jail and into a taxi cab.
“The Carlyle, please,” Armand said.
Daniel blanched. The Carlyle was a luxury hotel, hell, JFK had stayed there. There was no way he could afford that, not with his advance for Interview down the drain and his credit cards screaming about their limits. “No, it’s too expensive there,” he said. “I’ve got a room already, it’s out in Jersey but-”
Armand cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. He guided Daniel down until he put his head in his lap.
“Relax, Daniel. I will take care of it all.”
Armand’s expression was as inscrutable as ever. But there was something about the way his mouth was set, hard and tight as a frown, that betrayed the fact that he was feeling something. Anger? Concern? Daniel couldn’t tell. Daniel couldn’t even bear to turn his face and look up at him for long. The stop-and-go lurch of traffic had him feeling awful enough, he didn’t need to add vertigo to his list of current problems too.
He pressed his forehead against Armand’s stomach and was relieved to feel the chill of his skin seeping through his crisp white shirt. Long, pale fingers carded through his hair. This, this was all Daniel ever wanted. Daniel would sleep here all night if he could.
He drifted. Images floated through his mind of a dark room and quiet, ancient music. Someone in another room was strumming something that sounded like a guitar. Men chatted in Italian and French. He was in a beautiful bed covered in velvet and through the open window he could hear the sound of the sea.
Thoughts put into his head by Armand, meant to distract him. He wanted to ask where they were from, if this was his childhood home. His mouth was too dry to get the words out. Armand touched his cold fingers to his temple and he closed his eyes, forgetting all the questions in his head.
The transition from the taxi to the lobby and then to the hotel room was a blur, and Daniel was thankful for that. Standing was torture enough, he didn’t need his mind to replay the suffering that was moving over and over until he lost his paltry dinner in front of Armand.
He let himself be undressed and tucked into bed like a child. The comforter was so soft, and a dark brilliant red. The whole room smelled so much better than the motels he’d been in and out of the past few months. Daniel nestled into the pillow and watched Armand fetch him a glass of water from the bathroom. He set it on the nightstand and moved to turn off the light.
Daniel caught him by the wrist. “Don’t go,” he said, before he could think better of it.
“I cannot sleep here, Daniel,” Armand said, glancing down at Daniel’s fingers encircling his arm.
“I know. But it’s what? Just now midnight?” Daniel mumbled. “I know I can’t like…argue philosophy with you right now or whatever. But stick around for a minute. You always just leave.”
For a moment all of that unfeeling rigidness left Armand’s posture and he slumped. He took Daniel’s hand and gently pried his fingers off his wrist, one at a time until he could place it on the pillow beside his face.
Daniel’s chest ached. He closed his eyes. Fuck him for asking. It had been a stupid idea anyways, the thought that Armand would want to be around him when he couldn’t offer him any sort of entertainment.
“Alright. But only until you fall asleep,” Armand said. “There are things I must still do tonight to ensure you remain safe.”
The mattress dipped beside him with Armand’s weight. Daniel rolled over and tentatively shifted closer, until his forehead grazed Armand’s hip. Armand had seen him completely naked, had made him jerk off right in front of him, but somehow the two of them sitting together like this and barely touching at all felt more intimate than anything they’d ever done before. Daniel’s fingers twisted in his pillow and he shut his eyes tight when Armand brushed his hair back from his face.
He was dizzy. He was so fucking tired. Daniel didn’t even have it in him to be ashamed of the way Armand tracing over the bridge of his nose made him feel like he might cry. It was only a hint of affection but it reminded him so much of his mom soothing him when he was sick as a kid. When was the last time Daniel had seen her? He hadn’t had a chance to call home in months.
God, he was never drinking again. Armand already had seen him a total mess when sober. He didn’t need to be treated to the drunk and emotional version too.
“Why do you drink so much, Daniel?” Armand asked quietly.
Daniel shrugged and let his hand drift off the pillow and onto Armand’s thigh. The wool of his pants was scratchy. He didn’t care. He just wanted to make sure he couldn’t get up and leave easily.
“I don’t know. I guess I never know when to stop,” he mumbled.
Above him Armand sighed. He rested his cold fingers on the nape of Daniel’s neck and god, that felt good. If only Armand could stay here all night, just the chill of his skin would keep the spinning in his head at bay.
Armand squeezed his neck gently. “I’ve never known when to stop either.”
—
Daniel woke alone. In Armand’s place was a spare pillow, taken from the closet and placed in his arms. A suitcase sat by the window.
Funny. All of Daniel’s things were in the run down hotel he’d checked into in New Jersey just the day before, when he’d dropped everything and taken the subway into the city; alone and desperate to get drunk.
The inside of Daniel’s mouth tasted like a garbage can. Somewhere down the hall a door slammed and his forehead just about exploded. He’d investigate the suitcase later, first he needed a hot breakfast and an even hotter shower. He could hardly believe Armand had let him climb into bed with drunk tank germs still on his skin. He was such a weird stickler for hygiene sometimes, always harassing Daniel about his aftershave and his unruly hair.
He dragged himself through the motions of getting cleaned up. By the time he was wrapped in a fluffy white robe and forcing bacon and eggs down his throat (he didn’t care what the hangover remedies advertised on tv said, a greasy breakfast always kicked alka seltzer’s ass when it came to soaking up yesterday’s mistakes) he was feeling more alive, if not functional.
Daniel downed his coffee and refilled his mug. God, he’d been a clingy mess last night. He only remembered bits and pieces, but just the thought that he’d begged Armand to stick around made him go red. He was surprised Armand had put up with it. His interest in Daniel’s wellbeing came out in the weirdest ways, and at the weirdest times.
Like leaving him a suitcase. What was that all about? And where had he gotten it?
Daniel got up and wandered over to the thing. It was massive, all brown leather and fancy straps. The uneven stitching on it suggested it was handcrafted. He flipped open the silver buckles and pulled back the lid.
The array of clothing inside was dizzying.
Crisp button down shirts. Pants with the crease still perfectly pressed into them. Finely knit sweaters. A tshirt so tight it would be a miracle if it stretched over his shoulders. Jeans. A three piece suit with all the accessories to match. Underwear in every style, and socks in black and brown and navy blue. A brown leather jacket with a soft shearling collar.
All of them were carefully folded. All of them still had the tags on. The variety of brands suggested Armand had to have picked each piece, folded it, and placed it within the suitcase himself. It was a wardrobe fit for a king with the prices to match. Daniel could have passed out when he saw the tag on the jacket alone.
Everything. I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you one of everything, Daniel.
Armand’s words at the Copley rang in his head.
Was this like that? Was Armand overloading him on material pleasures just to fuck with him?
Inside the jacket pocket was a wallet. Dark brown leather, brand new. Daniel’s ID was already inside it with a strange series of credit cards.
A Molloy.
Huh. Let a guy give you a handjob and suddenly you were sharing a bank account. Daniel thumbed through the bills in the wallet and counted them up. He’d have to go to the bank later, there was no way he was walking around New York with this much cash in his pocket.
He pulled out the jeans and t-shirt and laid them on the bed. New shoes were hidden beneath the clothes, sneakers and loafers both. Daniel picked out the rest of an outfit for himself, stepped back, and dragged his hand through his damp hair.
Leave it to Armand to pull something like this when he couldn’t be around for Daniel to question his motives. He wasn’t opposed to the idea of Armand buying him some stuff, hell, he deserved the repayment for wasting so much money playing his little cat and mouse game over the years. But why now? Why after Daniel had his sad little needy moment, all messed up on whiskey sours and misguided emotions? He popped the tags off and wiggled into the jeans, pulled the t-shirt over his head. He didn’t know if he was actually going to go anywhere just yet but he put the jacket on too and-
Oh.
As Daniel looked in the mirror he couldn’t shake the awareness that these clothes weren’t entirely his own. Sometime last night Armand had stood in a dark and empty store and considered what he would look best in. Had checked the tags to ensure everything would fit. Made sure it all matched, that he wasn’t lacking for choice in his outfits. The version of himself that was reflected in the mirror was Armand’s design, right down to the watch on his wrist and the socks on his feet.
Encased in fine cotton and leather, Daniel might as well have been wrapped in Armand’s cold little arms. He felt good. He felt owned.
It should have been an alarming thought, especially when he was already toeing the line of feeling toyed with. But it wasn’t. Daniel felt that strange twist of pleasure-shame-excitement in his gut that always seemed to accompany Armand dragging him through some new psychosexual experience. He touched each button on the fly of his jeans, one after the other, and imagined Armand popping them open. Maybe it would happen here in this hotel room. Maybe it would happen in the bathroom of some beautifully lit restaurant, where Armand would choose his dinner for him. Daniel didn’t know. Daniel didn’t have control over anything in his life anymore.
He dragged his hands over his face.
“This is so fucked up,” he mumbled to himself and looked at the clock.
It was barely two in the afternoon. There was still so much time before nightfall.
—
Armand didn’t show up that night. He didn’t appear the next night either, or the next. By Thursday Daniel was feeling like a man scorned.
It wasn’t as if there was anyone he could talk to about it, and maybe that was the most frustrating part. In coming to know Armand he’d lost touch with the mortal world around him, for there really was no way to tell someone “sorry, I’m in a pissy mood because I might be becoming some 500 year old boy’s sugar baby but I have no way to get in touch with him, and even if I did he probably wouldn’t give me a straight answer anyways”.
Daniel ordered room service, putting extravagant meals on whatever credit card Armand had reserved the room under. Read a few books. Sat around in his fine new clothes until he was over it, he’d have a normal night come hell or high water. Let Armand show up or let him stay away. Daniel couldn’t dwell on it any more. He put on the t-shirt Armand had bought him, pulled on the jacket. Slipped his hotel room key into the pocket and set off down the street.
He wanted to find a club, get drunk. Forget about the immortal fool and get laid by someone he might have a chance of waking up next to in the morning. Let Armand walk in on him in bed with someone else, that would serve him right.
Daniel flipped up the collar on his jacket. It was cold enough he could see his own breath. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and contemplated whether he should get a cigarette out to warm his blood, or if letting the wind whistle over his hands would be too miserable to make it worth it.
“That is a very nice jacket you have on.”
He stopped and turned toward the voice.
Armand, his face illuminated in red under a neon sign as he leaned out the window of an electric blue Camaro. Daniel huffed out a laugh. Some timing he had.
“Thanks, some weirdo who gets handsy with me and then ditches me afterwards bought it for me,” Daniel shot back and continued walking.
“I do not ‘ditch’ you,” Armand said, words sounding awkward and stilted in his mouth. He’d slowed the car to a crawl, following Daniel down the block. “Come, get in.”
“No thanks, I have plans. You can come but you’ll have to park here and follow me,” Daniel said. “I don’t feel like dealing with you circling for a spot where I’m headed.”
“And where exactly are you headed?”
“You’ll just have to see.” Daniel stopped at the corner. There was an empty parking space beside him, and he watched Armand’s gaze flick back and forth between him and the asphalt. His expression was blank but he could feel the tingle in his amygdala, that telltale sign Armand was sifting through his thoughts and trying to find out the answer to where he was going without having to ask out loud. Truthfully, Daniel hadn’t picked a place. He just knew he’d find some kind of debauchery in the Village if he looked hard enough. “Well? Feels funny having the shoe on the other foot for once, doesn’t it?”
Armand let out a long suffering sigh and parked. Daniel waited until the car door slammed shut to continue his trek down toward the subway. Armand’s heels clicked on the pavement as he hustled to keep up with Daniel’s longer stride.
“I won’t pretend to understand why you are angry at me,” Armand said as they clattered down the concrete steps, into the eerie glow of the subway. “I had-”
“Business to attend to, I know. It’s the same answer every time. Business you can’t tell me about, just like all of the other things you don’t tell me about. Here.”
Daniel sifted through the coins in his new wallet, and noted the way Armand’s expression perked up at the sight of him using it. He dropped a subway token into his hand like he was a child and watched him hold it up to examine it.
“It’s so you can get in the subway, it’s a token. You know what a subway is, right?” he asked, genuinely not trying to sound patronizing. It was near impossible to guess what Armand did and didn’t know about. The holes in his knowledge were strange and unpredictable at best. He could drive a stick shift but didn’t know how to use the phone for god’s sake.
“Yes, there have been subways since the Victorian times. I was in Paris when the first one was built but I never had occasion to use it. I had my own carriage,” Armand said and copied the way Daniel put his token into the slot. He seemed delighted by the sound it made.
The subway station was crowded, full to the brim with businessmen getting off work, buskers trying to hawk their trade. There was a jazz band near the stairs it seemed Armand might get caught up listening to but when Daniel tugged at his sleeve he moved on and followed him down to the damp and stinking platform. Somewhere on the tracks a rat scrambled, scampering over the gravel as the tunnel began to shake.
The train arrived with a great roar. A sea of humanity poured from the doors and then they were swept up in the crush to get inside. They wound up on the far side of the car, crushed against a graffiti covered door. Daniel put his arm around Armand’s shoulders and guided him to step forward, closer to him, until his face was mere inches from his chest.
“I hardly need protecting,” Armand murmured.
“Yeah, I’m aware of that. It’s the rest of the people in here I’m worried for, trust me,” Daniel said with a grim laugh.
The doors slid shut. The train lurched to life, slowly, and then all at once. In one coordinated movement the people in the car stepped forward with the sudden motion, and Armand’s cheek came to rest on his chest. He was so short that his ear settled perfectly above Daniel’s racing heart. Daniel swallowed hard and squeezed his shoulder.
Armand was warm. Warmer than he’d ever been, in a way that meant he’d likely dropped a victim just before he’d gotten into the car and found him. His hands felt human as they came to rest on his hips and Daniel hated how comforting that was to him. That after days of stewing in aggravation it could all be washed away by a little bit of forced contact, by Armand closing his eyes and letting the gentle rocking of the train wash over them both.
Daniel looked at their reflection in the glass window. They looked so normal like this. Just a young couple off for a movie and drinks, or on their way to the disco. No one would guess that the beautiful young man whose eyes were fluttering open to meet his gaze in the door was a predator of the oldest and most dangerous kind.
You’re using the aftershave I left for you.
Yeah, well. Waste not want not, that’s what my mom always said.
Daniel’s cheeks colored faintly. He rested his chin on the top of Armand’s auburn head and tried to ignore the way he was stroking back and forth over Armand’s shoulder affectionately. He hadn’t meant to crumble this easily. Armand just made it so goddamned hard to stay mad.
Maybe he didn’t mean to be so distant anyways. Maybe nobody had ever really held the guy when he was growing up; after all Daniel didn’t remember the renaissance being such a warm and fuzzy period when he’d studied it in school. It could just be one of those gaps in knowledge he had. Long distance phone calls. Subway tokens. Proper post-hook up etiquette. All part of the mortal experience, all the same to Armand in its unfamiliarity.
Daniel kept him close when the train stopped; when the sea of bodies in the car went out like the tide, and then came crashing back in. He turned, putting Armand between himself and the door. Seven stops on the subway had never seemed to go by so slowly.
—
Despite the blistering cold the Village was bustling with life when they arrived. Armand’s hand stayed fixed in the crook of Daniel’s elbow as they made their way through the crowd. His brown eyes were wide, taking in the women with glitter in their hair, men dressed all in leather. A person in platform heels floated by, clad in a golden kaftan that sparkled under the neon signs, and Armand looked overjoyed when they noticed his gaze and called out to him.
They’d been out together, sure. But always to stuffy restaurants of Armand’s choosing, to half empty midnight movie theaters. Daniel wondered how long it had been since Armand had been in the thick of things, in a street teeming with mortal nightlife that accepted his presence with open arms. Out here he was a perfectly normal pretty boy, out cruising with his older boyfriend.
What a hilarious thought that was. No stranger on the street would look at them and know Armand pulled all the strings here, that Daniel would crawl on the floor like a dog if that seductive immortal voice asked him to. He tried not to laugh to himself. The whole situation had him delirious and he hadn’t even had any drinks yet. He tugged Armand into a line to get into a club.
Together they leaned up against the brick wall and waited, Daniel hovering close in attempt to steal some of Armand’s warmth. Armand watched with rapt attention as people continued to walk by. For once he seemed so overwhelmed by sights and sounds that he couldn’t think of any questions to ask Daniel, a fact that was oddly worrying. It was impossible to tell what was going on in his head.
He was getting the feeling that taking him out was a recipe for regrets. Nothing good could possibly come of him and Armand in a hot, enclosed space with nothing to do but drink and watch other people grind up against each other. They should turn around and go to a restaurant, or some quiet bar where you didn’t have to shout at each other over the music. Somewhere safe. He was about to change his mind and pull Armand away but the line was moving forward. They would be next in, no turning back now.
“Look, when we get in here stay with me, you’re going to get a lot of attention for being pretty and-”
The bouncer waved them through. Armand pulled at his arm and dragged him through the door, cutting off whatever warning he was trying to give him. It was probably a waste of breath anyways. Anyone who dared to grope Armand risked getting every bone in their hand shattered before they even realized what was happening.
Inside the air was thick with sweat and cigarette smoke. Always considerate, Armand led him through a sea of shirtless and sticky male bodies to the bar, where he rested his arms on the edge of the counter and stared in fascination at the bottles lining the wall.
“What is this place, Daniel?” Armand asked over the din of the music. Donna Summers was playing so loud the walls reverberated with it.
“It’s a place where guys go to get laid. Didn’t they have anything like this in your day?” Daniel asked. Just as he was about to flag down the bartender to order a drink was set before him, something tall and colorful. Trust Armand to order for him before he could even get up to the bar. And trust him to find something with the most generous pour of vodka Daniel had ever tasted. “How did you…go about having relations anyways? Was dating even a thing?”
Armand tilted his head. It should have been creepy when he did that but Daniel had come to find it endearing. He had such a stern thinking face for someone so young.
“No. When one desired intercourse they went to a brothel, or a courtesan. Or I had the boys that I lived with, no one looked down on that sort of play between youths,” Armand explained. “A lover was a more complex situation, founded upon a mutual exchange of education and gratification. Have you read Plato, Daniel?”
Daniel rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. Armand was the only being who would bring up Plato in a place like this. “A little, why?”
“Plato proposed there were two forms of love. One, the love between lovers, which was blessed by the gods and found to be fulfilling and beautiful. Another, the more common sort, was the base and unintelligent love of the body. An ignoble thing, done only to achieve a certain end and ultimately empty,” Armand said. “Do you find the sort of love you receive here to be fulfilling?”
Daniel couldn’t help himself, he laughed. “Armand, I don’t think people come here for something deep and meaningful. They come here to get fucked, that’s all,” he said. “Why? Are you jealous or something? That’s the problem, isn’t it, you’re doing some passive aggressive jealous shit here and trying to hide it under intellectualism.”
Armand frowned. “I’m doing no such thing-”
“Yeah you are. We can get into if you want. In fact, let’s talk about it-” Daniel continued, unable to help himself. If Armand wanted to come out with him and play mortal for a night they’d really do this, after all, there was nothing more mortal than being tipsy and laying your issues out in public. “- do you really think jerking me off and leaving me to clean up the mess is somehow more noble than me coming here and finding some stranger to sleep with? Because I don’t think it is, not really.”
“You don’t understand-”
“I don’t understand what? That the rush you get from getting your hands on me is more important than the way I feel lying there alone afterwards?” Daniel asked. Now that he wasn’t swept up in the experience of being close to Armand the irritation had returned and he couldn’t hold back. “That it’s more fun to buy me all kinds of shit and not be there to deal with my questions than it is to help me understand what kind of game you’re running here?”
“It is difficult for me, Daniel,” Armand said.
“Well it’s difficult for me too. So either give me some answers or let me go do what I came here to do, and find someone who might actually kiss me after they get me off.”
Armand looked at the sticky floor, arms crossed over his chest. He was just about pouting. Well, let him pout. Daniel was determined not to be worn down by it, hard as that was. When Armand looked even the slightest bit hurt something rose up inside him and made him want to gather him into his arms. He always got this bereft look like no one had ever comforted him before, and Daniel had to sip his drink and stare at the wall to keep from falling to pieces in the face of it.
Suddenly his mind was flooded with images. His heart pounding like some unholy drum, making the vein in his neck throb. His sweaty, delirious face. His eyes, glazed and so susceptible to any suggestion, so eager to please that if Armand just gave into his thirst he’d let him drink from any part of him he wanted. And the thirst, the terrible ache of the thirst that made it impossible to put his mouth on any part of this boy, lest he fall to temptation and gash his own lip and let him drink his immortal blood and-
It ended as suddenly and sharply as it began. Daniel’s drink sloshed over the rim of the cup and down his fingers, dripping to the floor.
“Do you understand?” Armand asked.
Jesus. Daniel figured something about their little game had to be satisfying to Armand too, but he’d assumed it was all about the control. Not that just being near him caught Armand in some kind of psychedelic feedback loop where every beat of Daniel’s heart set his entire body alight, where just the smell of him was orgasmic. Apparently being thirsty was like being sixteen and a puppet to your own hormone rushes, except a thousand times worse, and wasn’t that a mindfuck?
Daniel wanted to ask him what the big deal was about sharing the blood. But then again Armand looked so tortured by this revelation he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He nodded. He dragged his fingers through his hair and set the drink on the bar as he searched for some napkins. He needed a minute to digest this information, to figure out what he wanted. Luckily Armand saw fit to give it to him. He stood there, silent, arms folded and hands gripping his own elbows.
“I get it, I think. But you’ve got to try to have some self control and meet me in the middle here,” Daniel finally said. “Otherwise we can’t go on like this. I’ll lose my mind.”
Armand said nothing, but Daniel didn’t mind. He’d heard what he said and he assumed that not leaving was acknowledging it, in his own weird little Armand way.
Armand looked up. “What else do you do in a place like this, if you’ve come with someone and do not need to find another to use for love?”
Daniel shrugged. “You drink, dance. Maybe makeout in the corner if you’re feeling frisky,” he said. “Why? Do you even know how to dance, or was touching more than just hands strictly prohibited in your day?”
Armand narrowed his eyes. He so often looked like a wet cat when he got teased. “I was not raised a puritan, Daniel. I excelled at dance.”
This was a bad idea. A horrifically, humongously bad idea. Worse than the time Daniel was seven and decided if he jumped off the garage roof and flapped his arms hard enough he could fly.
Though what was the worst that could happen, really? Armand would finally bite him and leave him for dead on the dance floor? That would solve a lot of his problems, actually. And at least he’d be a good looking corpse in the clothes Armand had bought him.
“Here, you don’t get hot like I will.” Daniel took off the jacket, put it on Armand so that he wouldn’t set it down somewhere and lose it. The sleeves were so long on him he had to scrunch them up around his elbows to keep them off his hands. “Now come on.”
For someone so adventurous, Armand often hesitated when confronted with something new. He’d been like that with the phone, all nervous like if he messed up there would be hell to pay. Daniel held out his hand and waited for him to get over whatever old memory held him back. After a moment Armand took it and let Daniel lead him away from the bar, toward the back room where the dancing was.
The crush of humanity was overwhelming. By the time they got in the room Armand had glitter in his hair, brushed onto him by someone they’d squeezed past. There wasn’t enough room to do anything fancy and Daniel was grateful for that, he’d never been that quick with his feet. But there was enough space to get Armand in front of him, so close they were almost chest to chest as he guided his hand up to rest on his shoulder.
“You pick up things quick, you’ll be fine,” Daniel said. He wasn’t sure if he was reassuring Armand or himself.
He should have done some shots before coming back here. Or found someone to give him a bump. Something, anything to take the edge off and keep him from thinking too hard about the fact that he was teaching a 500 year old monster to two step; that having Armand this close to him in such a charged space was even more intense than being in the subway together had been. Hanging on to him in the train had been mundane, cute even. Having Armand work out how to sway his hips in time with his, that bare sliver of chest taunting Daniel whenever he glanced down- Jesus, it was a lot, and they’d only just gotten out here.
Armand, with his flushed cheeks and eager little smile, looked so young and mortal in his arms. He looked up at him through his lashes and squeezed Daniel’s hand, rings pressing into the spaces between his fingers.
You look excellent in the clothes. Everyone in here is thinking it.
“Is that so?” Daniel let his hand slip under the jacket, settling into the dip of Armand’s lower back.
The coat was big on him. It dangled limply around Armand’s sides but it had fit Daniel like a glove. Like the tshirt and jeans fit him, so tight he couldn’t ignore the seams pressing into his skin. Constricting him. A guy across the room had playfully slipped his hand into his lover’s back pocket. If Armand did that to him he’d practically be groping him, the pocket would clamp his hand so tight to his ass.
Yes. But how do you feel in them? You said you were overcome by the experience of receiving them, that you had questions for me. Did you want to know what I was thinking when I selected them?
Daniel swallowed hard, fingers curling in Armand’s shirt. What were you thinking?
I was choosing which ones would be most gratifying to tear off of you at the end of the night. It’s why I selected the pants with the buttons on the fly. I imagined it would be thrilling to watch them pop off, one by one, as I ripped the jeans from your legs.
A man passing through the crowd bumped into him. Daniel stumbled forward. Around them the crowd readjusted and then he was stuck there, Armand’s cheek pressed against his chest.
This close, there was no way to hide the way his words had made his heart race. But then again, when had he ever been able to hide anything from Armand? He was like a bloodhound, chasing down all of the things that embarrassed him and made his pulse gallop. Only now Daniel understood why, understood the feedback loop that made his dead heart quicken in response.
“You can’t just say stuff like that,” Daniel said, right into the pink shell of Armand’s ear.
Armand looked up at him, all feigned innocence. His grin was wicked. “I didn’t say anything at all, Daniel.”
Sylvester reverberated through the speakers. “You make me feel-” the lyrics crooned. Armand’s hand traveled up his spine to rest between his shoulder blades, heedless of the way his shirt had gone damp with sweat there, keeping him close. Not that Daniel would have pulled away. He was all in now, consumed by the way Armand felt in his arms; by the fact that this was the most Armand had ever invited him to touch him since they’d begun this dance between them.
How do the clothes make you feel, Daniel? Armand asked.
Daniel stared at the neon lights bouncing off Armand’s rings. At the way his leather jacket was bunched up in the crook of his pale elbow. Armand’s fingers clutched at his tshirt and caused the fabric to stretch tighter around his chest.
They make me feel like your hands are on me even when you’re not around, Daniel thought. Screwed up his courage and added, they make me feel owned.
Armand’s hand gripped his hard. He looked up at Daniel, face bathed in red light.
His eyelashes were so long. When he blinked they cast a shadow on his cheek, and drew Daniel’s attention to the dusting of freckles that spanned the bridge of his nose, that trailed down his cheeks toward his mouth. Armand’s mouth looked so soft. His lower lip was shining like he’d just licked it, like there was gloss on it. It would be nothing to turn his face and close the distance between them, to throw caution to the wind and catch that plush lower lip between his teeth-
A bead of sweat ran down the length of Daniel’s neck. Armand’s tongue felt like fire on his skin as he licked it away.
“Take me back to your hotel room, Daniel.”