Chapter Text
Armand missed the Daniel who would never have taken any of this seriously, who would have been high and mad and carried away by Lestat's god awful rock 'n roll band.
"If you ask me one more question, Daniel, I'm going to let her kill you after all."
Daniel hmphed.
"I just don't see why—"
Armand grabbed his wrist and tugged, forcing Daniel to bend down over the spot where Armand was crouched in the dirt. Without looking up, Armand tore into Daniel's wrist with his teeth.
"Ow," Daniel said.
Armand ignored him. He bit his tongue, sloshing Daniel's blood around his mouth so it mixed with his own, then spat onto the sigil he'd drawn in the dirt with his fingernail.
Daniel tried to pull away. Armand tightened his grip just in time.
The world fell away around them.
Despite the anxiety thrumming in his body, Armand was taken with the experience. He'd expected a sort of swirling chaos that would hurl them through time and spit them out on the other side, but instead the experience was like a canvas being painted over white and repainted with a new scene, everything perfectly quiet and still. It almost made him feel calm.
Daniel seemed to be having a different experience. His eyes were darting all around, his body taut, as if he were prepared to fight or run at any moment.
"What the fuck is this, Armand?" he asked, his voice loud and shakey in the silence.
That was, technically, another question, but Armand charitably decided that being wrenched out of time was a reasonable excuse for not listening to one's maker, and kept his grip on Daniel's bloody wrist.
The brush strokes came together into a familiar dingy apartment, dirty socks and half full coffee cups strewn all over the floor, books threatening to topple from large piles on every surface, newspaper taped over the windows. Armand stepped forward out of the painting of the place into the place itself, feeling the solid reality under his feet and dragging Daniel into it alongside him.
"This," he said. "Is somewhere Akasha can't find us."
A tap that had been running in the bathroom turned off.
"Babe?" a muffled voice called.
Daniel's eyes went wide.
"What the—?"
A pretty, young face, lit up by a goofy expression of excitement and framed by damp curls, poked out from behind the bathroom door and Daniel fell silent.
"Hello, Danny," Armand said.
Danny laughed, his eyes flicking to Daniel and then back to Armand.
"Let me get some clothes on," he said. "Just a sec."
When he disappeared back into the bathroom, Armand suddenly realized he was still holding Daniel's wrist and dropped it.
"Is this real?" Daniel asked. "You can time travel now? Can all vampires time travel? Or is this some sort of weird, fucked up alternate reality?"
"Thank you for saving my life, Armand," Armand said, in a perfect imitation of Daniel's accent. "This is much better than being murdered while being forced to listen to Lestat play guitar."
"Lestat's not bad at guitar."
This was such an obvious lie that Armand was certain Daniel had only said it to piss him off.
Danny's idea of making himself decent, it quickly became apparent, was throwing on a pair of gray boxer briefs with several visible holes and a thin, screen-printed t-shirt that read The Gaping Wounds above a crude drawing of two naked men who looked like they'd been carved from Swiss cheese. A list of eight tour dates throughout California were briefly visible when he turned to shut the bathroom door.
"Who's your friend?" he said as he turned back to them, eyeing Daniel up and down.
"This one's not for you, Danny," Armand said. He was finding it difficult to keep his eyes on Danny's face.
"Why do you keep calling me that? I mean, I know I pissed you off the last time you were here, but…"
Armand grimaced as Danny sidled forward, wrapping his arms around Armand's waist and pulling their hips together.
"…you forgive me, don't you?"
Armand stood rigid as Danny pressed kisses up his neck, fighting the almost irresistible urge to melt into his old lover's embrace. Every inch of him ached.
"Would you tell him to knock it off?" Daniel said.
Danny pulled back and frowned at him.
"What's your problem, man? You're in my house."
Daniel snorted.
"I'm in your shitty little walk up that you pay for with drug money."
"I don't pay for it with drug money. I don't pay for it with any money. He pays for it."
He tilted his head towards Armand.
Daniel's eyebrows shot up.
"You paid for my apartment?"
Armand tensed— quite the feat, given how tense he already was.
"You don't remember? You got an eviction notice. I didn't want you on the streets."
"Well then why the hell didn't you get me a nicer place than this?"
"I offered, but you didn't want to move. Said you liked the ambience."
"The ambience?"
"Uh, guys?"
"Yes, Daniel, the ambience. You said one day people were going to ask you where you got your start, and you were going to describe your old, rat-infested apartment above a dive bar in San Francisco, because that's where writers are supposed to live."
"Christ, I was an idiot."
Danny tightened his grip around Armand's waist.
"Baby?"
Armand looked at him and, without thinking, said, "Yes, beloved?"
"Wow," Daniel said. Armand glared at him.
"Why haven't you kissed me yet?"
On the surface, it was a silly question, but Armand knew this boy well enough to take in his narrowed eyes and see that it was shrewd.
"What year is this?" he asked. "What month?"
If Danny was surprised by this line of questioning, he didn't let it show.
"1976," he said. "February. Uh. February 14th."
He looked a little shifty when he offered the date, his eyes dropping down to Armand's chest and his fingers fidgeting against Armand's back.
"Ah," Armand said, feeling a little awkward.
Daniel snapped his fingers.
"Wait a minute," he said. "I remember that February! I didn't see you all month. I only knew you hadn't died when I didn't get kicked out on March 1st."
It had been a big fight. When Armand tried to remember it in any detail, his mind glanced off the surface of it, the brief contact sending pain shooting through his chest.
"I'd paid six months in advance," he said softly, "so I could have been dead, actually."
Danny squeezed his eyes shut. He looked like he was fighting with himself, or thinking very hard. Armand ached to kiss his eyelids, the corners of his mouth, his jaw…
Daniel sounded horribly bitter when he muttered, "Control it, Armand."
"I think I'm about to be really fucking pissed at you if I've put this together right," Danny said.
"Danny," Armand begged. "You know I had to be with Louis, it wasn't because I didn't want—"
Danny thrust his finger in Daniel's direction without looking at him, his eyes locked on Armand's face when they snapped open.
"Why am I eighty fucking years old, Armand?"
"Hey! I'm not—"
"I'm like the crypt keeper!"
"Alright, you little punk—"
"I mean, I know you've said no, but I figured I'd wear you down before I looked old enough to be your grandfather!"
"My granddaughter is six, if anything—"
"STOP IT!" Armand shouted. "STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!"
Both Daniels fell silent. It might have been gratifying, except that Armand had been holding onto control for so long that exerting it made him feel weak and trembly all over.
"Please," he whispered.
Danny glanced over to Daniel. When Daniel didn't move, Danny frowned at him and lifted Armand's arm over his shoulder, taking some of his weight.
"Come on, boss," he said. "Let's sit down. When's the last time you ate?"
Now that Armand thought about it, he didn't know.
"It's fine, Danny," he said weakly, ignoring Daniel's answering scoff as he allowed himself to be lowered onto the edge of the unmade bed. He picked up a pair of underwear from amongst the bed clothes, held them up for a moment, then let them drop to the floor. "I don't need blood today."
It was a lie, but he wasn't sure he could bare to taste the boy again, let alone drink from him in front of Daniel.
Danny turned an accusatory gaze on Daniel.
"Why haven't you fed him?"
Daniel scoffed again. Armand was growing to loathe the noise.
"I'm not his personal fucking blood bag," Daniel spat.
Danny looked incensed.
"Yes, you are!" he said, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He tilted his head away from Armand, baring his neck.
"Come on, baby," he said. "You gotta eat, I keep telling you."
Armand glanced at Daniel, at the look of disgust and anger and embarrassment and arousal on his face. Then, he looked at Danny's offered throat. He licked his lips.
Well. Maybe just a bite.
"I'm taking a shower," Daniel said. "I'm not fucking watching this. Tell me when you're done."
He slammed the bathroom door.
"What's his damage?" Danny asked.
Armand laughed a little hysterically.
"You're guess may be better than mine," he said.
He opened his mouth, fangs descending, and moved in…
"What, you can't read his mind?"
He closed his mouth again.
"No," he said, after a moment. "Could we…"
When Danny turned to him, his eyes were wide.
"Is he…"
"Yes," Armand said. "Do you think perhaps we could…"
Danny's eyes turned to the bathroom door.
"Wicked," he whispered. "I mean, it took you long enough, but…"
He turned back to Armand.
"Thank you," he breathed. "Thank you, thank you…"
He threw his arms around Armand's waist and kissed him deep enough to force him into an awkward back bend. Armand moaned into it, unable to stop his own hands from finding their way into Danny's hair.
Oh, my beloved, he thought into Danny's mind, oh my sweet, beautiful boy.
And what a relief it was to be able to communicate with him this way once more, to receive back a steady stream of baby, baby, baby…
A lump was growing in his throat, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks, when Danny pulled him onto his lap.
Armand gave a little involuntary shriek. Danny laughed, squeezing him tightly and bucking up against him, already hard in his briefs.
"You won't mind, will you?" he asked. "It's not cheating if it's you."
Armand tactfully did not point out that it was always cheating when they were together.
"No," he murmured. "I won't mind. I'll just wish I'd been here."
Danny leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the mouth.
"Why don't I want to watch?" he asked, pouting a little. "I think I'd want to watch, if it were me."
"It is you, beloved," Armand said, tucking a curl behind Danny's ear. "And maybe if you hadn't called him the crypt keeper…"
Danny grimaced.
"I didn't mean that," he said. "I look good. You think I look good, don't you?"
Armand felt a sharp pain in his chest.
"Yes," he said. "I think you look good."
Danny grinned up at him.
"You're so gone on me. Kept me around for sixty years…"
Armand cleared his throat.
"Fifty," he said, and rolled his hips. "Lover, please."
Danny moaned.
"Yeah," he said. "Yup. Yes. Yeah."
Then he held tight to Armand and rolled, flipping them onto the center of the bed and making the mattress bounce.
Armand giggled— giggled! When was the last time he'd giggled?
I missed you, he wanted to say, but he wasn't ready to explain to this lovestruck twenty two year old that he would one day fall out of love with Armand, would hate him even, and so he didn't.
"You're so tense, babe," Danny said, even as Armand laughed. "I'm clearly not hitting you hard enough in the future."
Before Armand could brace for it, Danny had wound up and smacked him hard across the face.
Armand froze, mouth agape.
"Uh…" Danny said. "Sorry, maybe I should have… Was that not…?"
"Do it again," Armand demanded.
Danny grinned and hit him again, somehow even harder than last time.
Armand's head snapped to the side, and he felt something wet on his lip. When he poked his tongue out, he tasted blood.
"Fuck me," he said. "Please, Danny, you have no idea how badly I need it."
"Yeah, okay," Danny said, feigning nonchalance. "If you insist. You want it dry?"
"Ye-he-hesss," Armand sobbed, overwhelmed by his luck. He moved to roll over onto his stomach, but Danny stopped him, holding him down.
"Missed your stupid face," Danny muttered, not meeting his eye as he ducked down and nipped at his throat.
How long had it been since he'd had this? Armand could remember the last time exactly, but he couldn't place it in time. Louis, tying him to their St. Andrew's Cross and whipping him, dispassionately counting 96… 97… 98… as Armand bled.
The sex afterward had been ecstatic, Louis's thumbs digging into the bloody wound that was Armand's entire back and ass as he fucked him into the mattress, and afterward, Armand had felt so wonderfully calm and floaty that he'd fallen asleep without washing the blood and come away. He'd treasured the thought that his wounds had closed around Louis's semen, that it was still inside him, somewhere, perhaps forever, perhaps still as Danny clumsily tore his own shirt and briefs off and then turned his fingers on Armand, roughly pushing his arms above his head and tugging at his shirt.
Armand didn't help him. He watched silently and let Danny struggle with his shoes, his socks, his belt, his pants.
When his tight black briefs came off, his cock sprang back up, hard and leaking against his stomach.
Danny took him in, eyes hungry and roving all over him and oh, how wonderful it felt to be looked at that way again.
For a very brief moment, Armand wondered if Daniel was at the keyhole, watching them after all. Then, Danny lifted Armand's legs and all other thought fell away.
"God, you're so tight when you don't prep," Danny said, pressing gently on the tight pucker of Armand's hole and finding barely any give. Armand whined.
"Hmmm," Danny said thoughtfully.
He leaned down, offering his neck and incidentally pressing their cocks together.
"Bite me," he said, "but don't drink. You don't get to drink until after I come."
Armand nearly swooned at that.
"Come on," Danny said, tapping his neck with two fingers, like a phlebotomist searching for a vein. "I want to feel those cute little fangs in my neck."
Armand knew the reaction Danny was fishing for and he obliged him, hissing up at him, fangs foremost.
Danny bit his lip and grinned.
"So sexy," he said, poking at one of the fangs with his finger.
Armand snarled and playfully bit him.
"Ow!" Danny shouted, pulling his hand back and shaking it out. When he brought it back between them, a bit of blood welled on the pad of one finger. Danny laughed.
"You little— do you reckon I can get inside you with just that?"
Armand pouted.
"You said dry."
Danny rolled his eyes.
"Yeah but I have to get in."
Armand wiggled a little, spreading his legs further, and Danny reached down and spread the blood across his rim.
"Nice to see you're still a slut sixty years from now," Danny said, and forced his finger inside.
Armand keened, tipping his head back. The finger forced its way inside him in brutal jolts, just the way he knew Danny's cock would, painful and sudden and just, just right.
"Please," Armand begged. "I don't want prep. I want it to hurt. Want you to tear me open."
"So needy," Danny taunted. "I'm still gonna tear you open, sweetheart. My cock's a whole lot bigger than a finger."
He glanced over at the bathroom door, then leaned down and whispered.
"It hasn't shrunk, has it? That's not a thing when you get old. Is it?"
"Dannyyyy," Armand whined.
"Right, right."
The finger slid out of him, the way only slightly eased by the little bit of blood.
Danny scrunched up his face as he squeezed the finger over his cock, managing just a couple of drops over the head.
The feeling of Danny's cock bumping against his hole nearly sent Armand into a frenzy. He thought about flipping them, using his strength and speed to hold Danny down and ride him harder than any human could.
But no. That wasn't what he wanted, not when it had been so long since he'd been used.
"Here we go," Danny said.
The first press got them nowhere.
"Shit," Danny said, frowning down at his cock. "I dunno babe, I think we might need some spit or something."
"Oh, for goodness—"
Armand wrapped a leg around Danny's ass and forced him down.
"Oh, fuck," Danny whimpered as Armand let out a long, labored breath.
The pain was exquisite. Pressure and fullness, yes, but also burning, tearing, searing pain. Armand could feel already more blood easing the way as Danny settled inside him.
Armand realized his eyes were closed, and when he opened them, he saw Danny's were closed too, his face scrunched up in concentration.
"Not gonna last long, boss," he said.
Armand suspected he wouldn't last long, either.
"Move, Danny," he begged. "Just move."
Danny swallowed and nodded.
"Okay," he said, "okay," and snapped his hips back and forward.
Armand gasped, then let out little, "ah ah ah," noises as Danny fucked into him as hard and as fast as he could, the slide growing slicker and slicker as his cock tore Armand up inside. Armand felt like he was floating, and at the same time he felt he was nothing but a hole. A bloody, painful, abused hole.
"Hit me again," he panted, and immediately Danny obeyed, backhanding him this time and clumsily hitting him across the eye.
Armand hoped he'd have a black eye, if only for a little while.
The slap had made him clench, and Danny looked pained above him, his thrusts faltering already.
"Shit, man," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't think I can—"
Armand shook his head.
"I'm close too," he managed, with some effort. "Let me— I know you said not until you come, but—"
Eagerly, Danny leaned down, offering his neck, and Armand latched onto it.
The slight resistance of the skin and then the easy give, the singular taste of Danny's blood on his tongue, thick and warm and metallic, oh Danny, oh Daniel, oh beloved…
Above him, Danny grunted and stilled.
Armand felt his cock twitch deep inside him, and then…
Then the world fell away again.
Armand experienced the change as less than peaceful this time. First, Danny disappeared, his weight lifting and the pressure inside Armand disappearing, though the pain and wetness remained.
Then, the bed vanished.
Armand fell to the ground hard, his tailbone vibrating with the impact.
He hissed with pain, rolling onto his side, and saw Daniel, bent over as if he were looking through the keyhole of an invisible door.
They stared at each other.
The white nothing around them seemed to swirl, bringing them closer without either of them moving, and Daniel averted his gaze, jaw twitching.
He clearly had no intention of helping Armand to his feet. Armand opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. He could feel Danny's semen leaking out of him, coating the insides of his thighs.
The brush strokes came again, coalescing into that same familiar dingy apartment, the same dirty socks and half full coffee cups strewn all over the floor, the same books threatening to topple from large piles on every surface, the same newspaper taped over the windows.
A tap that had been running in the bathroom turned off.
"Babe?" a muffled voice called.
A pretty, young face, lit up by a goofy expression of excitement and framed by damp curls, poked out from behind the bathroom door.
"Hello, Danny," Armand said, looking up at him from where he was sprawled on the floor.
Danny laughed, his eyes flicking to Daniel, fully clothed, and then back to Armand, naked, bruised, and wet with blood and come.
"So it's that kind of party, is it?"