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When Daniel Molloy contemplates the length of his mortal life, he can sum it up in a collection of odd relationships, one after the other. A fractured relationship with his parents; a boy born too weak for his father, too cold for his mother. A co-dependent relationship with substances he tried for the first time at fifteen that would soon take over his life completely. Two years into his addiction his mother kicked him out, left him to fend for himself and the next fix he just had to have. And so he had continued to fall into relationships, many of them with people he can’t remember now. Transactions for a couch to sleep on, for his next fix, for his next orgasm- yes, use me. A somewhat healthy relationship with his professors in pursuit of a career— a capricious passion for talking to people. His interest was not in the people themselves, but in the stories they had to tell. What tragedies befell them? Oh, what did your ex do to you? How did you lose your legs? Do you really feel regret hitting your wife or do you think she deserved it? And then he had a strange relationship with his job. Would he get so high he drooled all over his work or would he get his new story done by its deadline? Did it even matter, in the end, whether he made it as a journalist? The needle and the stuff flowing through his veins felt so much better than the satisfaction of finishing up a job.
Then it was death that he had a strange relationship with. After Polynesian Mary’s and what transpired after an interview he could not recall, death followed Daniel so closely he could feel its footsteps; recognize them as well as he could his own. Death was there as he healed the puncture wounds on his neck, as he tried to recall the events of that night and as he finally chose sobriety. It was a slippery slope, of course, as his relationships with women and his daughters made him want to turn to the needles, the bars, the other men and women. Daniel lost time as he relapsed and gained some back when he recovered. It was difficult to keep going when he kept failing at everything, leaving everything behind, except journalism and death, who refused to leave his side. Daniel often had dreams of death. Of it coming to him in the shape of a man—tall, dark, all sharp lines and gentle caresses. Sometimes the dream was nothing more than the man standing in the shadows watching him. Sometimes death seduced him into giving in, taking a mouthful out of Daniel’s neck and draining the life from him. The dream could take a turn at times in which death simply seduced him, taking him until Daniel rose from his slumber covered in his own spend, his puncture wounds aching as though brand new. It would make Daniel reach between his legs again, desire fueled by the thought of death watching him fall apart again as he fantasized about him… or it… or him.
Now, when Daniel Molloy is one with death, is death himself-- he has finally come into some clarity.
Armand.
Somehow, the answer to everything is him. Armand.
Daniel would be lying if he said he hadn’t known Armand had been stalking him for some time after Dubai. Before he even meets Lestat, Armand is there. When Daniel was a mortal he had not realized, how could he have? No gifts, no heightened senses, no bond to make him ache for someone else in a way that felt near deadly. Oh, but he knows now. He can feel Armand everywhere. The decision to approach Lestat had come months before taking the plunge. A second book, a documentary, anything to use as an excuse to approach the vampire. Lestat de Lioncourt’s version of events—who having read Louis du Pointe du Lac’s would not want it? Would it be retaliatory? Would it be complementary? Daniel was intrigued, of course, but when he purchases concert tickets for The Vampire Lestat, he does it thinking of only one thing.
Armand.
Surely, approaching Lestat would make Armand’s blood boil, forcing the bastard out of the shadows. Daniel had looked for him everywhere. Provoked him into action countless times—one-night stands, a dangerous trail of bodies, yelling expletives at him when he knows Armand is lurking—the wretched thing has refused his every attempt. What Daniel did not account for was who Lestat de Lioncourt would be in the flesh. Beautiful. Pathetic. Charming. Desolate. Evil. Conniving—absurdly impulsive and yet. Lestat is so eager to have someone, something to protect and nurture. Lestat is so full of longing, filled to the brim with love and he gives it easily, whether he wills it or not. Daniel, the fool that he is, falls into Lestat easily, greedily taking his guidance and his contempt along with his affection. Lestat was an immovable thing and Daniel an unstoppable one—he shattered through Lestat’s defenses, creating something neither would be able to endure immortality without. Lestat shares himself with an openness Daniel didn’t expect, allowing Daniel to learn his story and take his blood. Teaches him to broaden his vampiric gifts. Lestat tastes of destruction and Daniel becomes infatuated with the feel of drinking from him and the raw power they share when he does. Daniel loves Lestat almost as quickly—he had a way about him, Louis had said—as Daniel comes to lust for him. It was an inevitability; he realizes that now. He was everything Louis had said and more. Just as awful, just as delightful. In those days, if Daniel had allowed Lestat his way, they would have been attached at the hip, done everything together. Daniel declined Louis’s calls—Nice to see you still got some sense of shame, there, Danny. Shacking up with my man and all—some laughable sense of remorse making him feel as though he was betraying Louis every time he crawled into Lestat’s coffin, into his arms, every time they are so close to actually going through with their base desires. Truthfully, at times Daniel would feel awful, but when Lestat came into the room to show him the highlights of his fans’ reactions to his new photoshoot, Mon petit Daniel, look, it is so odd, isn’t it? They just keep calling me mother. Daniel, will you explain what ijbol means?, he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Not enough to create distance between him and the rockstar. When he is on his last efforts trying to resist the temptation that is Lestat, Armand makes himself known.
It shakes the foundations of Daniel’s resolve to hate him. Even as he rejects him and goes along with Lestat’s game, it feels like part of his soul leaves with Armand that night. He longs for his maker, for the years they shared, the years Armand erased from his mind. Daniel longs for Armand to need him as much as he seems to need him. He remains with Lestat until they finish their project, dreading having to leave the blonde in favor of continuing his work at home. His agent keeps calling, Leave him, Daniel. The optics are terrible. Are you really fucking him?, and so do his daughters and Daniel only lingers because he knows. He knows it will be on innocents when Lestat finds himself once again abandoned with nothing but an endless fountain of coke and the yearning he has been cursed with to keep him company. Daniel has so much work to do, interviews to attend, promotion to get through. Lestat says he understands, even as he tosses his hair back in a way Daniel has come to learn is his tell for being incredibly unhappy.
“I will call. I promise.” Daniel soothes, knowing Lestat will not take well to his absence and fuck if it doesn’t actually tear him apart just a little.
“Of course, mon Daniel.” Lestat breathes, shoving his hair behind his ear, nodding without meeting his eyes. So dramatic, god… Daniel can’t believe he deprives himself of taking this pathetic thing apart under him. “I know.”
“Lestat.” Daniel chuckles at the childish display, so fucking Lestat it’s actually infuriating, and reaches for the blonde’s face. He leans in, kissing just between his lips and that pretty scar that the boy he once was did not deserve. He caresses the spot with a gentle thumb, watching Lestat’s eyes fill with red, his throat working with emotion. “I’ll miss you.”
Lestat says nothing as he has his people carry Daniel’s belongings out to his ride and leaves him be. Daniel does miss him as he misses his maker, who he feels all around, but cannot see.
For Daniel, it’s good to be home. It feels nice to settle down in a space of his own and the feeding grounds are nice and familiar. The first thing on his to-do list is call the girls, have them over for a dinner he pretends to have cooked and pretends to enjoy as he chokes it down. It goes without incident, his younger daughter unusually well-behaved and his older on edge, tolerating his presence. Daniel is quite pleased with the evening’s outcome, until he is placing dessert—some bakery’s best-selling cheesecake—before the kids that it goes terribly wrong.
“So…”
“Eli—“
“Are you fucking The Vampire Lestat?” Eliana asks without any preamble. So bold, his youngest child. She looks most like him, sharing fair skin, a strong nose and green eyes. Acts like him too, at times, though he would never dare say that to her.
“Eliana—“ Her older sister drops her fork, clearly in distress. Daniel feels amusement creeping up, their thoughts racing into his mind without him even trying.
“Shut up, I need to know!”
Daniel perks up, “Eli, baby—“
“OH, HE’S SO FUCKING HIM.”
“Dad, how could you?” Lillah yells, betrayal painting over all her beautiful features, very little of which Daniel can take credit for. She is dark skinned and raven haired, stunning as her mother. She also has his eyes—the eyes he used to have before being reborn. Daniel opens his mouth to answer when she continues, leaning in from her seat cross the table: “How is he?”
Eliana throws a napkin at her sister with a, “Oh, but you can ask him? Asshole.” They are both over 30 and still act like children. Daniel is so fond of them.
“What, you mean like emotionally?” Daniel chuckles, already having heard her intrusive thoughts. She wants the gritty details, and he has none to provide.
“Emotionally? That man will only know peace after a single dose of lithium.” Lilah says dismissively.
“In bed, Dad. Was he good? Does he cry? Bet he’s a talker.” Eliana says, taking a bite of her cheesecake, nodding in approval at the taste.
“I am not…with Lestat. I know how the pictures look, it was intentional, but we have never done it.” Both of them laugh at his choice of words, perpetually treating them like they’re five. “Yeah, keep laughing at your old man.”
“So, all of that was for press?” Lillah chews as she speaks, brows coming together in suspicion. “What for?” To lure a monster out of hiding, Daniel thinks, how ludicrous.
“Press for the documentary. People get scandalized, they tune in to find out more, it’s good for the project.” Daniel shrugs, forcing himself to eat as well, so the girls don’t suspect anything. They think loudly about how odd it is that he is always wearing sunglasses indoors and they can only see him after dark. It’s going to be increasingly difficult to keep a relationship with them, but Daniel clings. He can’t lose them yet.
“So, tell us more about your time with him, then. What’s it like? Being on tour?” Eli, sweet girl, leans back into her chair to listen to him. Lillah nods and looks at him expectantly.
Daniel takes a breath for dramatic effect and says, “First of all, my biggest pain in the ass was his fucking lawyer—“
Daniel startles awake at a gentle touch, a tracing of his nose, his lips.
“Armand?. He mumbles, so certain it is him, unsure of how he got in. Unbidden, pleasure seeps into his chest. His jaw is traced as well, movement slow and in reverence. It’s dark and Armand’s lean body is pressed to his side tightly. “Armand?” It’s not uncommon to feel disoriented if disturbed in coffin, it takes Daniel’s mind a moment to adjust to consciousness.
“Beloved.” His maker whispers, a thing he feels against his cheek. A claw moves from Daniel’s jaw to the aged skin of his neck. He bares it on instincts, realizing he’s got a hand around his maker’s waist. “You sleep so peacefully. I wish it were so for me.” Armand is topless, skin warm against Daniel’s. The younger vampire can feel Armand’s ribs rise and fall against his own as he breathes, the pebbled tips of his pectorals against his own.
What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in? How many times have you done this?, reason wants to ask. Instead, Daniel manages a, “Haunted by your sins?” Fingers trail the curve of Armand’s waist, stopping at his hip. He is devastated to find Armand is somewhat clothed under his touch.
“It’s my great deeds which haunt me.” Armand’s touch has reached his sternum, taking his time to feel every ridge. “A boy I made. Thoughts of him,” Daniel gasps as Armand moves to the tips of his chest and traces those too. “with someone else. Giving himself to another.”
“Oh, please.” Daniel wishes his voice were more believable, but Armand’s palm is making its way down his abdomen, a single digit stopping to draw the shape of his navel. “You don’t get to bitch about me being with him.”
“On the contrary, Daniel.” Armand must be looking down at him, the ancient thing probably has some kind of night vision gift, but Daniel can’t see him in return. Daniel’s heart aches with longing just for a look at his beautiful face. “I think I get to bitch as much as I’d like.” Daniel rolls his eyes in both pleasure and annoyance as the wandering hand ghosts over the flesh around his hipbones.
“You left me there to fend for myself. You have run from me—I have looked for you, you coward. Everywhere.” It would be more believable if he weren’t under his spell, if his cock were not dripping for his maker and if his voice could conjure up some semblance of anger. “Tried everything. You left me then and you’ve done it again now. I am through with you.” Armand’s hand stops shy of his cock, well, don’t stop now. we can continue this conversation later, you selfish son of a bitch, and his breathing halts, Daniel’s words biting.
The night Daniel was reborn, Armand had just been discovered to have orchestrated a terrible thing. The creator of terrible things, not quite done with his work, turned to Daniel and asked, Do you still wish for it? The dark gift?
Daniel wanted it, of course, but he was unsure about Armand’s intentions. Was he to trust this monster’s fangs in his neck? And if Armand was plotting to end his life, what else was there for Daniel to live for? Daniel had said yes, give it to me, and when Armand reached for him, there amongst the debris of Louis’ righteous wrath, he said, Remember, Daniel. For if the sacrifice of our bond prevents me from sharing this with you after, you must remember now. His words were like a miracle, like instead of those words he’d commanded that there be light. As his past lover held him gently, as fangs broke through his skin and life was drained from him, Daniel remembered. Endless nights, unconditional love, indescribable pain and the most delectable of pleasures. Ten years worth of memories flooded him, poured from his eyes and he swallowed down Armand’s blood as he cooed in his ear, My love, forgive me. And as Daniel was born again, he looked to his maker whose mouth he had tasted countless times and leaned in to taste it again. With Armand’s taste on his tongue, Daniel found religion. Those first moments of joyous wonder they shared in a heated embrace—Daniel’s knees hugging Armand’s hips—which Daniel wished would never end. The end came, however, when Daniel’s dying pains began. He groaned in delicious agony, smiling for his maker, his fangs exposing themselves. Daniel was in pain, yes, but most importantly, he was hungry. Armand held his face, gazing at his creation with a stoic expression Daniel recognized as awe and something shifted. Armand separated them. The thing walked away as Daniel reached and called for him. How was Daniel to survive that kind of pain? How was Daniel to survive what he had learned? How was Daniel to endure without him?
It was later when Daniel’s rational brain was capable of functioning that feelings of despair and resentment begin to fester in him. Every time he failed to hunt, every time he had questions and only Louis to turn to—Did you know? Louis, did you fucking know about us?—every time he longed to taste the fire and be put out of his misery. Armand lingered in the shadows like awful things do. Daniel had not seen Armand for years, but then there he was. In Lestat’s place, years after feeding him the darkest of gifts and abandoning him. There he was, standing in the dark, still like a pilar, waiting for Daniel to come home. His maker was armed with an I love you, a weapon deadly as anything. It cut Daniel so deeply. From our first words, Armand had said, their first words were shared in 1973 as Daniel was tortured. It hurts Daniel, not because it’s fucked, but because he knows it to be true. Armand loves him. And what a dull tragedy it is that for years it has been for nothing.
“But you must understand, beloved.” Armand sighs. “When you reached for me—“
“Don’t. Don’t fucking talk about that night.” Daniel threatens, his claws digging into the meat of Armand’s hip. The vampire makes a sound of pleasure. Fucker. “Get out of my coffin. Get out of my house.”
“You are angry because I have gone and yet…you can hardly stand my presence.” Because I will cave, and you will learn nothing. Armand ignores his demands, his hand resting at the waistband of Daniel’s boxers, promising more for good behavior. Daniel could laugh. Because I will give in, and you will leave me again and again. “You must listen if you are to forgive me, Daniel.”
“I don’t want to forgive you.” Daniel’s tone is cruel, but there is no truth in it. And I’m not your boy. I haven’t been for many years. Armand, freakish thing that he is, can probably smell Daniel’s slipping resolve. “I want to hold a grudge. I want you to know what it was like for me. The life I lived because you refused me then and the death I suffered because you refused me now.” In the dark, it feels easier to spill the contents his soul holds onto. The dark will keep his secrets, store away his vulnerability when he leaves the coffin and closes its lid. He wonders if Armand enjoys this or if Armand is capable of remorse and could truly be sorry for what he’s done. You know he isn’t, and you will take him anyway. Daniel, you poor fool, you’ll love him anyway.
“I want to know as well. Tell me, beloved. Tell me what it was like.” Armand pleads, nosing at Daniel’s temple. “Tell me what transpired all those years ago. Tell me my shortcomings as your lover and as your maker.” Daniel wants him, now more than ever, in a terrible way in which nothing should be desired. He always has, but his words and his body next to his and the promise of more fills Daniel with a sticky, indescribable and absolutely right thing. Oh, god could this be love?
Daniel talks. Well into the morning he tells Armand what it was like without him, how much he despises him and wishes to never see him again. So many lies. Armand listens, grooming him like a beast would its offspring—a touch here, a fuss there, nosing at his hair, licking and nipping at his ear, his face, his throat. By the end of Daniel’s rambling, they’re worked up and Armand brings them both to orgasm with little more than his hand, his mouth and despair. He brings his wrist to Daniel’s lips and feeds his fledgling, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. My beautiful boy, how I have neglected you. Take it all, my love. You undo me. I could not resist what you’d given me the night I made you and I could not allow myself to have it. You must understand. Beloved thing, you’re my every thought. I will gladly be the reason for your rage if it is all you will feel for me.
When Daniel rises the next night, sated and relieved, Armand isn’t there.
The visit only serves to make Daniel want his maker more than ever before. Phantom pains, the ache of missing Armand through their bond is only amplified by feeling Armand’s own yearning coming around back to him. Like going through withdrawals, desperation for another fix brewing inside him. Of course it was what Armand was counting on, his possessive nature working in tandem with his manipulative one. Daniel is past being angry with a creature he can’t change, but he can’t help it, he is hurt. Daniel catches himself looking at every corner when he is out, luring all kinds of people into dark corners hoping Armand will want to watch, stays put in case he decides to visit again.
Armand is never there. Eight moons, Daniel waits. He tires of waiting.
“All I’m sayin’ is I don’t think he needs to be doing all of that. That’s it.” Louis drawls, his shoulders rising in a dainty shrug. Beautiful bastard. They lounge in a nice suite up to Lestat’s standards, having dinner on Louis’ terms, enjoying a conversation Daniel brought up. At least Daniel was enjoying it, until now.
“Mon cœur, you must cease this—“
“Lestat, you can’t keep killing your own band. We’ve been through every possible—“
“Oh, so I can only kill them when my love orders me to do so—“ Daniel’s interest is piqued, but alas, he has a responsibility to interrupt before things get heated. He barely opens his mouth when Louis continues.
“That’s exactly right, baby. Now was that such a difficult concept to understand?” Louis watches the blonde’s mouth fall open at the word baby, a well-trained dog. Oh, Daniel could watch them all day.
“I understand, my love, but please do not call me baby when—“
“Stop. Reminder that I am still in the room. I am sick of the argument to fucking pipeline and I’ve only been here for three days.” Daniel speaks with difficulty around a drink from his glass of warmed up type A. Louis and Lestat turn to him with equally falsely offended expressions. “But I just have to say that if they suck, they might as well go home to Jesus, Louis.” The vampire shakes his head in disbelief as Lestat throws his manicured hands up in a very obnoxious I told you so fashion.
“Yeah, keep enabling him,” Louis complains, setting down his own glass. “Y’all gonna make a cute pair in prison. Orange is not your color, Lestat.” Daniel chuckles at Lestat’s gasp of horror, both the mentions of prison and orange catapulting the three of them into a five-minute-long rant in frenglish about how he could pull off an orange jumpsuit and in fact he will for his next performance.
The Vampire Lestat’s European tour, minus an incident involving stairs and a guitarist, is going swimmingly. If Christine has bags under her eyes from the stress of handling not one but two vampires who do nothing but talk, fight and fuck, well that’s just Christine’s business. Daniel loves to listen to her thoughts about them and about him, especially, the contempt that swirls around her interest in him.
“Do not fuck the lawyer!” The fuckers say in unison as though they had practiced it, damn them. Lestat looks genuinely terrified that Daniel might go through with this, but it’s Louis’ face that gets Daniel, the effort he makes to keep himself from laughing.
“I won’t fuck the lawyer.” Daniel sighs—he shields his thoughts—knowing well that if she is amenable, he will so fuck the lawyer. Her suite is three doors down from Louis and Lestat’s. Speaking of the lawyer, Lestat’s phone rings and he makes those silky hand gestures that mean Christine wants him. Louis tilts his head up instinctively, just as Lestat bends over for their lips to meet. Being Lestat, he can’t resist touching the back of his knuckles to Louis face. Louis mouths, Hurry back, baby, and it’s so sweet, Daniel turns away, an ugly thing like envy creeping up his throat.
“You’re hurting, Daniel.” Louis breaks through the turmoil of his thoughts. He’s unsure whether Louis spoke out loud or into his mind, but as he meets iridescent green eyes, Daniel finds himself flayed open. “I hate to see it when I look at you. I hate to know it’s ‘cause of him. Just say the word.” The threat feels personal, as if Louis had threatened him, not his maker. He shoves the feeling down.
“It’s not him.” Daniel sniffs. “It’s me. You know the drill.” Louis shakes his head, upset.
“If I had known, I would have never left you there. You’d be at home with your girls, you’d be—“
“Dying, Louis. I’d be dying. I don’t regret having been made.” Daniel argues, reaching for his half-empty glass, cringing at its temperature. “I regret not knowing what it was for. I thought I’d have it all figured out. I wanted—“
“Companionship.” Louis smiles, a sorrowful thing that tugs at Daniel’s insides.
“To be someone’s.” Daniel offers in return, intently watching his hand around his glass, afraid of being seen. I wanted to belong. To be owned.
“I wish it weren’t him.” Louis reaches across the table to place a hand atop Daniel’s. He doesn’t look up, can’t meet Louis’ eyes. “Does it have to be him?” Yes.
“I don’t—“ Daniel meets Louis’ eyes to find them filled with compassion. No judgment, no resentment. Entitled to all of it and yet, “I hate him for making me…” Love him. “If you had known him the way I have—“
“It’s true, I never—“
“It wasn’t perfect. It was painful, but it was good. You understand, it was so good when we were happy.” Daniel realizes what it sounds like, of course. He only hit me twice officer. “It makes me not care about the rest. About how bad it could get.”
“Does it have to be him, Daniel?” Louis asks him once more, his hand now loosely holding onto Daniel’s knuckles. Daniel nods, nods, nods.
“You will not believe this, mon cher, mon monstre.” Lestat skips into the room, turning on his heels, stopping before the pair and waiting for their attention. His hair, longer now, moves as he vibrates with excitement. Daniel notices Lestat eyeing their joined hands, their closeness, the seriousness of their faces. “All is well?”
“Yes, Lestat.” Louis pulls his hand back and smiles tightly. “What is it? What did Christine say?”
“She alone?” Daniel smirks at Lestat’s scowl, as though disgusted at the implication.
“Stay away from her.” Lestat growls, turning to Louis with a grin. “Chappell Roan wants to collaborate.”
“No?” Louis is on his feet in a second, which spurs Lestat into action. Daniel wishes he knew who the fuck they are on about. “No fucking way.”
“Comment allons-nous fêter ça, mon amour? Je pense que je devrais te baiser jusqu'à ce qu'aucun de nous ne puisse marcher, non?” Daniel can only understand the bits about fucking so he congratulates the rockstar—who kisses his cheeks as a thank you and a goodbye—as he sees himself out.
I’d like to finish our conversation later, Daniel.
How about you two finish first, yeah?
The amusement is palpable through his mind gift, but he hears nothing else. Daniel’s feet carry him to Christine’s door, and he knocks obnoxiously. The door opens quickly, as an annoyed person would open it, and Christine stands there in her striped pajama set—a button up loose-fitting shirt and shorts. She’s attractive, blonde and fair skinned, dainty features that harmonize beautifully on her face.
“What do you want, Daniel? I’m beat.” Christine eyes him curiously, not sure of his intentions. He places a hand on the door frame and leans in, hoping to make them quite clear. The lawyer’s thoughts race with filth, so does her heart. Daniel smirks.
“To talk? I know we haven’t really gotten along.” He whispers, closer now, so he can smell the lavender of her shampoo. See the blood rushing through her veins. “And I don’t care to fix that, but maybe there is something we could do with that?”
Christine meets his eyes, pushing her shoulders back in defiance, raising her eyebrows.
“Are you waiting for a formal invitation?” Daniel’s smirk only grows as she steps aside to let him in.
Yeah, he fucks the lawyer.
The house is eerily silent after the girls have gone. The family dinner was once more a success. The girls’ goodbyes let him know they won’t be back for a while—Lillah must travel for work and Eli is Eli. Daniel is aware that he can’t ask for what he hasn’t given so he doesn’t. Daniel kisses their cheeks and gifts them silly The Vampire Lestat lockets Lestat had offered him. For my biggest fans, mon ami. The girls laugh it off as their old man being, well, an old man, but Daniel’s purpose had been to protect them. His maker had given him a vial of his blood once; to keep other vampires away from his boy, Armand had told him. Hopeful that it would work now as it did before, Daniel poured his blood into the merchandise and concealed it well enough that Lillah and Eli should never know. Daniel hopes they keep it with them or close enough that it works. The vampires after Louis seem to be circling them all—Daniel doesn’t know what it would do to him if they came for his girls and he wasn’t there to ensure their safety. Louis has people protecting them all, but what if it’s not enough?
Daniel returns to the kitchen to clean up, starting on the dishes when the room’s temperature drops exponentially. Daniel sighs in mock exhaustion, his treacherous heart racing, its pattern seems to repeat his maker’s name.
“Are you going to speak, or should I pretend you’re my sleep paralysis demon?” Daniel asks Armand, who lurks in the corner leading to his living space, his maker’s heart very, very still. He must be cold, hungry and acting on impulse— his timing is off. Daniel is awake this time. If his clandestine visits in the past are any indication, he likes to come when Daniel is vulnerable.
Daniel keeps busy as he washes the dishes used for family dinner, pointedly ignoring the creature behind him.
“You keep telling your daughters you have never been with Lestat.” Daniel searches his mind for disgust at the knowledge of Armand’s endless intrusions. He finds none. “You call him often, visit often. Do you miss him? Them? Is it both you share yourself with?” Armand’s voice comes closer to Daniel’s back, but his footsteps are silent, perfect for a predator stalking its prey.
“Listen, if that is what you came here to say, grab that towel and make yourself useful.” Daniel gestures toward the white kitchen towel on the counter as he continues to work. “Otherwise get the fuck out.”
“I’d like answers, Daniel.” Closer and closer, Armand seems to want Daniel on edge, but he refuses to bend this time. Daniel wishes Lestat were here, a shield against the bad decisions he’s seconds away from making. Daniel hopes he can feel it through their mind gifts. Armand sighs before adding a begrudging, “Please.”
“And I said get the fuck out.” Daniel retorts, the faucet going quiet as he finishes his task, starts to dry the dishes and put them in their place. “I can’t believe you—“
“Daniel, I am sorry. For the way I’ve handled things and what I’ve done to you. I will always be sorry.” Daniel turns to look at him, finally, Fuck me, look at you, and scowls at Armand’s remorseful face. A softening of his perfect brow and a widening of his already huge, perfect eyes and he thinks Daniel is going to believe this? Armand is in all black tonight, a color fitting for the perpetual bringer of death. Daniel leans back against the counter, crosses his arms across his chest and spits,
“You’re a fucking liar.” Armand is visibly shaken by his answer, just so used to getting his way, this brat. As part of their maker-fledgling sacrifice, he can no longer mindfuck Daniel and the realization on his angelic features is beautiful to witness. He laughs in Armand’s face. “You are a broken, wretched, terrible thing in a suit that looks like a person and acts like a vampire, but you’re something else. Something worse.” Daniel awes, shaking his head in disbelief at the ancient vampire’s theatrics. “Can’t fucking hide from me, not even when you mindfucked your way out of my life. I know what you are.” I want what you are. Show me. Let me have it, you sick fuck.
“I can be anything you need me to be, Daniel. Show me.” Armand pleads, making himself smaller, making Daniel dread Armand might utter maître. Daniel wants to kill him, kill them both, kill every maître Armand has ever known and bring them to his feet. He wants Armand in his bed, down his throat, to take him inside forever.
“God, you’re not listening. You don’t—“
“But I am. I am listening now, beloved. More than I ever have. Tell me what you want me to be.” Armand begs, taking another step towards Daniel that brings them impossibly close, a slender thigh sliding between both of Daniel’s. His face hardens, determined not to be seduced.
“I’m not them. I don’t want Arun or Amadeo. I’m not your maître.” Daniel pauses, reaching out a hand to take Armand’s face. His maker looks tortured, so very pretty. Daniel wants him more than anything, hates him in a way that only fuels his desire. “I am your equal. You showed me who you are when you could erase my memories of him. Armand. Boss. The devil.” Daniel murmurs into the space between their faces, willing this monster to understand a language it’s never spoken. “That’s who you are, isn’t it? The thing using my kitchen appliances for experiments, the demon coming into my bedroom at night to intoxicate me with his blood and then fuck me until I begged him for another fix,” Armand’s mouth opens on a silent sound of pleasure, leaning into Daniel so their hips slot together. “Alice in that perfect table I picked in France, denying me her hand in marriage. That’s who I want.” Daniel sees the moment those words get through to the monster—an admission of one of Armand’s most sinister deceits through Daniel’s pink tainted glasses. Alice was never in France. Alice was terrified of planes. Daniel could laugh.
“Daniel.” Armand’s nostrils flare, his teeth bare themselves, like the thing beneath the suit is uncomfortable and wants out. Daniel is ecstatic as he is crowded further into the sink behind him by his maker. Armand takes his face, now, bringing him in for what Daniel believes might have been a kiss if he had not pushed his monster back by a punishing grip on his hair. “Daniel.” Armand growls. Son of a bitch, Daniel thinks wantonly, there you are.
“Is this you?” Armand’s waist is engulfed by Daniel’s hands as he tugs him close. “I don’t want the suits you fabricate for others. I want my maker. I want death luring me into his arms in 1973 and the devil—” Armand is hard against him, mindlessly rutting against Daniel’s own arousal.
“You don’t know what you ask of me—” Armand warns.
“Who granted my every wish—” Daniel gasps.
“Daniel—”
“and I want to be his.” Daniel feels animal as he is smelled by Armand, their bodies moving in tandem as they breathe together, undead lungs filling and releasing in harmony.
“Naive thing.” His maker whispers against his cheekbone, pressing a soft, wet kiss upon it. “You will have nothing outside of me. I will be there, everywhere you are, in everything you do. I will take you and everything around you apart until all there is, is you and me. Do you understand?” Daniel nods, his heart pounding in his chest, his cock throbbing in his jeans. God, he’s desperate for this—his fangs ache to come out and make Armand keep his word.
“You made me for this.” Daniel pants as Armand’s fangs find his jaw, before his lips do. A gentle kiss.
“I will be all you will have, darling boy.” Boy, boy, boy. Daniel’s very existence is taken by something intense, something that feels like satisfaction. “I will lay waste to everything in my way. You think it’s what you want now—” Armand sucks on his pulse, teasing him. Bite me, drink me down, come on, taste yourself inside me.
“If I complain it’s your job to make me like it.” The younger vampire demands, hands reaching down to his maker’s ass, generously helping himself to the feeling of it.
“Daniel.” Armand moans as though at the edge of orgasm.
“I want my maker’s guidance.” Daniel’s voice is hoarse with want, Armand’s broken sound against the skin of his neck makes him throb. “He knows what’s right for me, doesn’t he?” Armand shakes in his arms, restraining himself, nosing at Daniel’s carotid artery.
“You think you can take it, but it will break you, Daniel.” Armand’s breath is hot in contrast to his body against Daniel’s, his fangs a moment away from piercing into him. “It broke you before.”
“Come break me again, hm?” Daniel smiles when Armand takes his face again and their lips connect sharply, fangs clashing as they find a rhythm they perfected long ago. It’s so good, hot and wet and when Daniel’s tongue meets Armand’s fang, it opens for him. Daniel gasps, Armand moans and their tongues slide together, an arousing mix of their tastes. Daniel leaks between them. “Fuck, let me taste you properly—”
“No.” Armand punishes him for his request by taking his mouth away from his in favor of his neck again. “Perhaps it is another’s taste you crave?” Daniel runs his hands all over Armand while the thing bites savagely into him and swallows him down.
“I crave you all.” Daniel has never been any good at keeping his thoughts from spilling out of his mouth. His maker hums, his skin becoming warmer as he feeds, the selfish asshole. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”
“Always aroused by things that should frighten you. It is you who is something worse, Daniel. Like calls to like.” Armand pants, the rush of blood-sharing having him sway into his fledgling, his own arousal evident against Daniel’s hip.
“Stop projecting and suck me off.” Daniel demands, prompting Armand’s claws to start on his jeans. “Think you can manage a blowjob without gaslighting me?” Daniel searches Armand’s face as the ancient vampire watches his own hands undo Daniel’s fly, opening him up.
“Not sure, dear. This would be the first try.” Armand smiles up at him, his curls bouncing as he meets Daniel’s gaze, and the world ceases to exist. This. That look, the honesty on his face—Armand and joy. Daniel kisses his smile, short and sweet, once, twice. He kisses it a third time, causing Armand to smile wider, unable to kiss him back. “How could I endure without? How?”
“No more.” Daniel demands against his maker’s lips, hoping the words engrave themselves onto his very flesh, onto his mind. “No more running, Armand. I will kill you next time you leave me. Kill us both.”
“My sweet boy.” His monster kneels slowly, claws digging softly into Daniel’s hips, teasing him as he mouths at his cock still within his underclothes. “The way you smell, the way you taste. Forever could not dull them in my mind.” Armand pulls Daniel’s jeans down, only as much as is needed, nosing at the hard length of the younger vampire’s
“Yeah?” Daniel grips the countertop behind him as Armand sucks the head of his cock through his boxers. Daniel’s hisses. “Yeah, fuck—stop teasing.”
“My fledgling needs my guidance.” Armand says solemnly, unlike someone who is currently yanking the waistband of Daniel’s boxers down and watching his hard cock spring back up and curve against his lower belly. Daniel hisses at the carelessness, thinks, Yes, use me. “He must be silent, keep his hands where they are, allow me to give him what he needs.” Daniel looks down at his maker, sunrise eyes swallowed up by his dark pupils and nods his understanding.
Armand takes Daniel’s cock in hand, giving it a stroke, bringing it to the side of his face. It is an obscene picture he paints for Daniel’s pleasure. His thick, impossibly hard cock leaking onto Armand’s delicate features. Daniel’s breathing stops as the vampire bends and opens his mouth to reveal his tongue. It is pink and wet and teases the head of Daniel’s cock before he closes his mouth around it. It takes everything in Daniel to remain quiet and not tell Armand how pretty he looks taking his cock. Stuff it all the way in, baby. Make you even prettier.
“Such a well-behaved boy.” Armand praises, kissing his cock like he does his mouth, licking up as Daniel leaks. Daniel’s grip makes the furniture groan in protest, his hips moving on their own accord, seeking sweet relief. “Such a large, needy thing. It’s mine to play with, isn’t it? Isn’t it, Daniel?” Daniel knows this game well. He does not respond and gets rewarded as Armand swallows him down all at once, never taking his eyes away from Daniel.
Daniel’s hands grip through the counter, his sink ruined, useless, the sound loud and obnoxious enough to wake the neighbors—none of it matters. His cock is in warm, tight heaven and Armand is looking up at him with those evil eyes as he fucks him with his throat. He moans around Daniel’s length, pulling back slightly only to swallow him again. Again. And again. Daniel licks his lips, fights a groan of satisfaction as Armand swallows around him, begging for Daniel’s release. Daniel wants to give it to him. His hands reach for Armand’s hair, thick and silky in as his fingers run through it and find the perfect spot to grip. It was a mindless act for which he pays when Armand pulls away, and tuts, stroking him from root to tip.
Armand smiles, “Did I say you could touch?”
“How could I not?” Daniel whispers, taking Armand’s hands, pulling him up, done with games. Their lips meet on their own, Armand stroking his cock again, his grip tight and purposeful. “Baby, it’s so good. Gonna make me come?”
“No.” Armand licks into his mouth. “Not yet.” Daniel groans in despair as his lip is bitten, his cock tortured by expert hands. “I want you to fill me until I am done with you and then again and again until all that is wrong is forgotten and all there is, is you inside me.”
They clash.
It’s more gnawing rather than kissing, more clawing than touching. Armand seems to be leading them, but their bodies shatter everything they come into contact within search of his bedroom. Daniel could stop his fangs from piercing through Armand’s neck long enough to direct them up the stairs, but he moans in deep-set satisfaction at the taste of his maker, his lover, his salvation. This all-seeing entity that has haunted his life and his darkest desires for as long as he can remember.
They eventually find Daniel’s bed, undone and all the better for it as they fall into it and rip the remains of their tattered clothes off.
“Beautiful boy,” the devil tells Daniel, covered in his blood, taking him in like he is worthy of looking at. Like Daniel wears this body, but it belongs to him. “Age has only made you more perfect for me. I regret nothing, you must know this now. What is there to regret when I have had so many versions of you? I intend to have you all.”
“I know, you devil.” Daniel whispers, pulling him close, bringing their mouths together. “I know. I don’t care.” You’re mine, I’m yours. Armand licks his lips, greedy for every taste of Daniel, and bites his own wrist. He pours blood all over Daniel’s fingers and straddles his hips. Daniel restrains himself as Armand brings his fingers to his entrance, takes two at once. “You’ll make it up to me, won’t you? You’ll spend eternity making it up to me.”
“Eternity is not enough.” Armand moans so sweet as Daniel’s fingers move inside him. “Will two suffice, beloved?” Armand breathes, riding Daniel’s hand, showing him how to please him. Daniel adds a third finger, finding his sweet spot, making his devil writhe in pleasure for him. “Always filled me so well.”
“I dreamed of you.” Daniel confesses into the air they share, his cock jealous of his fingers, his mouth salivating at the thought of this. “So many times. I didn’t know, but it was always you.”
“If you knew what I feel for you, Daniel.” Armand says as he withdraws Daniel’s fingers from him, as he takes Daniel’s cock and places himself just above it. They touch there, warm and wet, and Armand makes him wait for it, as he always has. “You will never be free of me as I will never be free of you.” Threat and promise, Armand sits himself, takes all of Daniel’s cock into his perfect body. Daniel groans, holding the nape of Armand’s neck in one hand, the small of his waist in another. Armand rides him expertly, allowing Daniel to feel and drink every sound of pleasure from his mouth. Daniel worships his maker, with his words, with his touch, with the shallow thrusts Armand allows.
“Baby,” Daniel begs. “Fuck, please.”
“Not yet, my love.” The cruel thing pants, the lewd sounds of their bodies clashing violently as he rises and falls—so perfect around Daniel’s cock—deafening in Daniel’s ears. “Your cock was made for me.”
“I was made for you.” Daniel reaches for Armand’s hard cock between them, rewarded when his maker’s hips stutter. “Wasn’t I? You made me for you. Say it.”
“Yes.” Armand cries. “Yes. Yes.” Daniel’s monster falls apart on his cock, in his hand, covering him in violent streaks of red that make Daniel lose his last shred of control.
He takes Armand’s hips as he shakes through the last of his orgasm and fucks him for all he’s worth. Fucks him until he comes so deep his spend will never leak out. Armand mindlessly moans and wraps his arms around Daniel’s neck as they collapse, still joined—How did I ever live without this?
“Daniel?” Armand’s voice is hoarse, so unlike his usual voice, it makes Daniel turn his face to press a kiss to bloodied, sweaty curls.
“Mm?” Daniel is near incoherent, having just experienced absolution, redemption at the hands of his maker. He can feel gratification bloom within their bond—his monster is smug. Armand’s face presses deeply into his neck, almost to the point of discomfort, like he—
“I would love to open you up, pull apart your flesh and then your bones. Make a wide enough space just for me.” Armand whispers, earnest as Daniel has ever heard him. Obsession pouring from every word. There you are honey. “And I wish to crawl inside, make a home of your body, be with you, always.” And it sounds grotesque, entirely impossible, and somehow enticing—but Daniel can hear what he means to say. I love you. I love you. I love you. “Do you understand?”
“I do, baby. Of course I do.” You’ve been inside me for years. Daniel can feel the twisted thing that is too sinister to be called a smile upon his monster’s lips. He is so smitten; it sickens him down to his bones. Daniel is happy. So fucking happy. “Promise we’ll try?”
“Anything your heart desires, beloved. Anything.” Armand vows.