Chapter Text
Armand is still there when Daniel wakes up.
Daniel lies next to him for a while, watching him sleep. He’s kicked the covers off sometime in the night, his naked body curled in the fetal position, face toward Daniel. His features are lax, his hair a messy spill of black curls, his morning erection tucked between his thighs. He’s snoring, quiet and snuffly and impossibly endearing.
He’s usually gone in the mornings. Not that they’ve been here in this bed all that often, but still– the kid usually catches his breath, cleans up and dresses, then kisses Daniel goodbye. Sweet little kiss, sweet little smile, sweet little ‘goodnight.’ All from the same devilish heathen who’d been using his cock like a toy not ten minutes prior.
But Armand was tired last night. Not his usual frantically desperate self. When the kid dozed off after finishing, Daniel had figured the kid must need the sleep. He’s in the last stretch of his undergrad program, finals around the corner. It’s been a long time, sure, but Daniel remembers what it was like being a student, running on nothing but fried nerves and stale caffeine and lines of coke.
Just fried nerves and stale caffeine in Armand’s case. At least as far as Daniel knows. But still…
Daniel stands from the bed, careful not to jostle the boy around, and lets himself into the bathroom. Takes a piss and washes his face. When he lumbers his way back into the bedroom, he finds the kid sitting up, heels of his hands rubbing at his eyes. He looks soft and sweet and sleep-rumpled. He’s pulled the sheets up over his lap, but the shape of his morning wood is obvious underneath the fabric. Daniel tears his eyes away from it– god, he’s a dirty old man…
“Did I wake you, sweetheart?” he asks, turning to grab a t-shirt and jeans from his dresser. “I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s alright,” Armand answers, then yawns. When Daniel turns back, he finds the kid looking around the bedroom. His big amber eyes are curious, inquisitive, taking everything in. He’s never been in Daniel’s home during the day, never seen the bedroom with sunlight pouring through the window. Daniel never even turns on the bedside lamp when they fuck. They always do it in the dark, filthy nasty, shame and arousal swirling together hot in Daniel’s belly.
He doesn’t know what keeps bringing Armand back here. Young, intelligent, beautiful, and currently sitting in an old man’s bed…
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep last night,” Armand says, frowning at the off-white wall. “I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped… staying as I have.”
“You seemed exhausted. I wasn’t going to kick you out of the bed.” Daniel shakes his head. In for a penny, in for a pound. “And by the way, you’re welcome to stay here anytime.”
“Mmm,” Armand hums, finally standing from the bed. He bends down, rifling through last night’s clothes discarded on the floor. Daniel stares at his ass until the kid straightens up, boxers in hand. Armand says, “Let me freshen up, then I will leave you be.”
Jesus. Disregard spending the night– apparently it’s still a wham, bam, thank you ma’am. Not that Daniel is all that surprised. Their age difference is ridiculous. Something like forty years. Laughable. There’s no foundation for a relationship here, certainly no future. If Daniel is lucky, he has another ten or fifteen years before his health will start failing him– not being morbid, just being realistic. Meanwhile, Armand has his whole life ahead of him.
But it’s hard not to care. Fuck if Daniel hasn’t tried. Two years with Armand as an undergrad assistant, two years of Armand putting on his sweet and demure little show. A crush on a professor, Daniel had told himself at the start. Temporary. Innocent. Not necessarily uncommon. He’d let the kid flounce around and make a fool of himself until it finally went a step too far. A late night in his office, a gentle hand on his chest and a press of baby soft lips against his cheek, and Daniel had shoved him away. Snarled, “Cut it out.”
And so it went. Back and forth. Cat and mouse. Two years of working with the kid, teaching the kid, and being pursued by the kid. Except Armand is no child, not really. He’s a young man, stunningly beautiful and too intelligent for words. He speaks four languages that Daniel knows of– English, French, Italian, and Hindi. He likes Classical music and color theory, takes his coffee black, and never goes anywhere without his iPad. He’s still waffling over whether to pursue his master’s after graduation. He always begs to be fucked, yet he comes hardest when Daniel can cajole him into a slow and sloppy blowjob.
Yeah. It’s hard not to care.
Daniel’s in the kitchen waiting on the coffeemaker when Armand emerges from the bedroom. He’s dressed once again in last night’s clothes, his bedhead curls all frizzy and untamed. He sidles over on socked feet, leans down to kiss Daniel on the cheek. Daniel turns his head for a peck on the lips.
“You want a coffee for the road?” Daniel asks, expecting Armand to turn him down. He turns away to the cabinet and grabs a travel mug regardless.
Armand remains silent.
Daniel turns back, mug in hand. Waves it at him and says, “Well?”
Armand replies, “After next week, I will no longer be a student.”
Oh, Daniel thinks. “So, is that a no to the coffee?”
Armand ignores the question. Says, “I will no longer be your student.”
“Yes, correct,” Daniel allows. “Do you have a point? I’d think you were trying to break up with me, except I’m not sure that we have any sort of relationship.”
Mean and cutting thing to say. And judging from the break in Armand’s practiced demeanor, it hits home. The kid glances away, jaw briefly clenching, before he says, “I would just like to know what you expect of me, going forward.”
“That is…” An absolutely wild thing to say, Daniel thinks. Something in him cracks down the middle. His words and tone soften. “Baby, I never expected anything from you.”
“Perhaps I worded that poorly,” the kid says, frowning. “What would you like from me?”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Daniel snaps, takes a breath to collect himself. Thinks, The only reason we’re here is because you kept asking, and I finally gave in. He sighs, says, “What do you want from me?”
Armand seems surprised by the question. He blinks owlishly before his gaze dips to the floor. He fidgets with his hands. A pattern of behavior Daniel is used to seeing from time to time, nerves and uncertainty breaking through his carefully manufactured control.
Daniel wants to pick him apart. The boy’s mind is a locked treasure trove.
“I would like…” the boy begins, then pauses, seeming to mull over his words. Finally decides, “I would like to spend the night again.”
Daniel stares. There’s a beat of silence, too long. The kid’s gaze darts to meet his own, then drops away again. Unsure what exactly to say– Why? What are you getting out of this? You can do so much better…
Daniel says, “You’re welcome here any time.”
“It is Saturday,” Armand says. Then, “What are you doing this evening?”
“You’re looking at it,” Daniel says, gesturing to the apartment around them– books, laptop, and cigarettes.
“If I come here, will you invite me in?”
Daniel chuckles. “When do you wanna come by?”
“Perhaps 8 PM?”
“Alright, Romeo,” Daniel says, a grin curling his lips despite himself. What the fuck is happening? “I’ll see you then.”
Armand smiles, small and sweet. He turns toward the door, and Daniel watches him shove his feet into his scuffed deck shoes, watches him shoulder his messenger bag. Daniel stays frozen in the kitchen, empty travel mug still uselessly held in hand.
The kid opens the door, glances back. “Goodbye, Daniel.”
Daniel nods. Smiles. “Bye, kid.”
~*~
Daniel isn’t sure what to expect that evening. Moreover, he isn’t sure what Armand expects.
The kid shows up a few minutes before eight. Daniel lets him in, shuts the apartment door behind them, ponders. Should he ask if the kid is hungry? Ask if he’d like a drink? Ask what the fuck is going on?
When he turns around, Armand is right there in his space, pretty eyes wide and interested. Elegant hands settle on Daniel’s shoulders, sliding up to cradle the back of his neck and pull him in. Daniel goes, warm syrupy feeling settling in his stomach. Armand bends into the kiss– a nasty and filthy thing, no soft warm-up, straight to tongues and teeth– and Daniel lets himself be guided back into the wall. Armand arches, little whimper slipping from the back of his throat, and grinds up against Daniel’s hip. Daniel can feel him there, already hardening up in his slacks.
“Aww, baby, you need it again already?” Daniel asks, because the kid fries something in his brain. Removes what small amount brain-to-mouth filter he still has left. “Sweet little thing, always looking for some dick.”
Armand huffs through his nose, crowding impossibly closer, pressing harder against Daniel’s side. But Daniel pushes him back, disentangling them. The kid makes an unhappy noise, finally stepping away with a petulant frown.
“Brat,” Daniel says, fond. Then, with a gentle shove toward the bedroom, “Go on, then. Get on the bed.”
Armand goes, tossing a coy glance over his shoulder to be sure Daniel is following. He waits until he’s beside the bed to undress, peeling his clothes off slowly and methodically. There’s no seductive song and dance in getting naked, just the kid’s intense gaze pinning Daniel in place. Ensuring Daniel’s attention stays on him. As if there were some danger of Daniel losing interest.
Light from the kitchen spills in through the open doorway, and Daniel reaches blindly behind him, finds the door and pulls it closed. The room dims around them, just the hazy glow of artificial city lights filtered through the heavy curtains. Armand’s eyes are beautiful in the dark, wide and blackened bronze.
Daniel shrugs out of his own clothes as Armand climbs naked into the bed. He joins the kid, propping himself up against the headboard, and settles his hands on narrow hips as Armand straddles him. The kid climbs on backwards like usual, reverse cowboy. The lean muscles in his back flex as he arches forward. Hands braced on the mattress between Daniel’s spread legs, ass pushed up and out. Head tipped to the side, glancing back– seductive and inviting.
Waiting.
As ridiculously sexy as the entire display is, there’s something about it that always sets Daniel’s teeth on edge. He assumes Armand just wants to be facing away. Easier to fantasize he’s being fucked by someone younger and better looking. But the performance as he lays himself out…
Daniel runs a thumb down the crack of the kid’s ass, tailbone to asshole. He’s prepped himself before coming over– not an uncommon occurrence– but the water-based lube is beginning to dry. Daniel slips his thumb in regardless, and Armand lets out a pleased gasp. His lube is still sitting on top of the bedside table, left out from their activities the previous night. Daniel reaches to the side, jostling the kid around as he grabs it. Armand frowns at him, obviously annoyed, but they’ve already had this argument. They’ve had it more than once. Daniel doesn’t mind playing rough if that’s how the kid likes it, but he’s not going to make him bleed.
He spends a few minutes on Armand before getting himself ready. Condom, lube, taking himself in hand and getting himself hard. He keeps expecting Armand to say something about that part of it all– confusion or disappointment, even concern that Daniel isn't actually interested. But the kid is always unfazed by it. Maybe understands that it’s because of Daniel’s age. Maybe just doesn’t care.
But then Armand is rubbing himself against the tip of his cock, making these sweet little excited noises. The head catches against his rim, and Armand arches his back with a whine, bearing down…
After this, after they finish, the kid is going to stay here with him.
“Wait. Baby, wait,” Daniel says, palm cupping an asscheek to push the kid up.
Armand freezes, body tensing, before popping up on his knees– and thank god he hadn’t managed to take Daniel inside yet, Jesus Christ…
“Easy, sweetheart,” Daniel says, hands settling on his waist, thumbs rubbing circles on the soft skin. Trying to soothe. It doesn’t happen very often, but sometimes this flighty anxious little thing shows its face. Daniel wants to hold him.
After this, he’s staying.
“Turn around,” Daniel says, gently pulling at Armand’s waist. “Let me look at your pretty face.”
Armand doesn’t move, poised still as a statue. Almost two months of these trysts, and a couple blowobs is the closest they’ve come to being face-to-face. Daniel wants to see those amber eyes while he’s being ridden. He wants the kid here beside him every night. He wants to dissect the kid like a lab rat on a table.
He wants far too much…
Armand slowly turns, carefully rearranging his long legs. He splays one hand across Daniel’s chest, grabs hold of the headboard with the other. Stares down at Daniel with big bright eyes, lips parted, curls spilling over his brow.
“Alright, Daniel,” the kid murmurs, accent smooth and thick. First words he’s said entering the apartment, voice dripping down Daniel’s spine like honey. The kid’s never very talkative when they’re here in this dark bedroom, but still, he’s being quieter than usual. Daniel takes silent note of this.
Daniel takes himself in hand, lines himself up, lets Armand lower himself down. The kid whines, hunching in on himself as he bears down. Daniel hushes him, coos at him– inane, condescending, but Armand whimpers and leans in close. Presses his hand heavy against Daniel’s chest and pushes his face into Daniel’s shoulder. All warm wet breath and tickling soft curls.
Armand starts with his usual grinding– hips swiveling slow and heavy, keeping Daniel held up inside. Daniel settles his hands on the kid’s waist, not holding him down but instead just touching. Caressing his soft skin. Letting his hands wander down to squeeze his asscheeks. Waits for Armand to pull his knees up underneath himself, perhaps even maneuver into a squat, leverage himself up and start bouncing.
But time drags by. The kid makes no move to change his position. He just keeps rocking in Daniel’s lap– alternating between long slow rolls of his hips and quick little shoves. Daniel can feel his erection rubbing against his stomach, his pelvic muscles clenching and squeezing. It makes Daniel’s eyes roll back in his head.
Armand stays uncharacteristically quiet– none of his usual screams and cries, just soft little grunts and whines muffled against Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel suddenly worries…
“Sweetheart,” Daniel murmurs, voice low and raspy. He tangles his fingers in the back of the kid’s hair and gently pulls. “Lemme look at you.”
Armand raises his head, looks down at Daniel. His pupils are blown, lips slightly parted, breath coming heavy. He stares at Daniel as if shocked to see him there, though he keeps moving. His cockhead bumps bumps bumps against Daniel’s stomach, leaving smears of fluid on the hairy skin.
“Honey?” Daniel asks, unsure what exactly he’s asking. Are you okay? Do you want to stop? Do you want to turn back around and face the wall?
Armand squeezes his eyes shut, huffs out a shaky breath, his hips going still in the cradle of Daniel’s lap. The hand on Daniel’s chest skates up to his collarbone, pauses, then circles his throat. The kid doesn’t lean into it, doesn’t push down, just closes his fingers into a firm and purposeful grip. There’s no pressure on Daniel’s windpipe, only the vague suggestion. The possibility…
Still, Daniel’s cock throbs.
The kid must feel it inside him. That, or Daniel makes some stupid noise he’s unaware of. Regardless, Armand’s eyes flutter open, and he looks down at Daniel with a hazy sort of curiosity. His hand slides up further, gripping Daniel by the jaw and squeezing, forcing Daniel’s mouth open. And as Daniel watches the kid arch up and lean over him, pretty mouth pinching, he has the startling realization of what is about to happen…
I’m not going to let this little brat spit in mouth, he thinks. Though at the same time, he subconsciously lolls his tongue out. The kid hawks back and spits, nasty about it, leaving saliva across Daniel’s cheek as well as his tongue. Daniel’s stomach burns and his balls ache.
After, Armand has the audacity to look shocked and appalled.
“Filthy little thing,” Daniel murmurs, keeps one hand tangled in his curls and grabs his face with the other. Pulls the boy into him, into a kiss. Armand meets him open-mouthed and biting, enthusiastic beyond measure.
Armand picks up a rhythm again. More forceful than before, bouncier, shoving his erection against Daniel’s belly. His lashes flutter when he leans back and tries to hold Daniel’s gaze. Jaw slack, desperate little whines escaping his parted lips, ass clenching rhythmically around Daniel’s cock. Daniel usually never has a problem lasting as long as the kid needs– and sometimes it takes a good while for Armand to get there, long enough that Daniel worries about him. All that wailing and writhing can be an act. Listening to his thready whines and whimpers tonight, Daniel’s willing to bet that it definitely is. But the way his erection is leaking, the way Daniel’s stomach is wet with it, physical evidence of his pleasure…
“Kid, I’m gonna come,” Daniel murmurs, apologetic. God, he feels young again, unable to hold it together. “I’ll suck you–”
After this, he means to finish the sentence, but Armand chokes on a sob, eyes snapping shut and fingernails digging into Daniel’s shoulders. Spark of pain as he clings, muscles locking and trembling. His cock jerks against Daniel’s belly, splashes of warm sticky fluid between them, a quiet cry of pleasure as Armand tosses his head back.
And Daniel is lost…
Armand slumps against him after, trembling in a way that reminds Daniel oddly of his first wife. Always shaky and emotional after an intense orgasm, the vulnerability of it causing a physical ache in Daniel’s chest. He feels the same now holding the boy, Armand breathing unsteadily into the crook of his shoulder. Daniel rubs his back, his best attempt to soothe, and lets the kid hide his face. Lets the kid gather himself together with some false sense of privacy.
He’s eventually forced to move the kid– or at least, encourage the kid to move. Once he’s gone too soft, he cups Armand’s ass and gently squeezes. “Gotta let me get rid of the condom, baby,” he murmurs, something fragile in the quiet he’s loathe to break.
Armand huffs before slowly lifting up, allowing Daniel to pull out. Then, while calmly watching Daniel do what needs to be done, he asks, “Are you sleeping with anyone else?”
Daniel almost chokes on his spit. He finishes tying off the condom, lets the kid take it from him like always, then counters, “Kid, who else do you think I’m sleeping with?”
“Hmm.” A non-reply. Armand stands, moving on wobbly coltish legs to the ensuite bathroom. He’s usually steady afterward, all business, toss the condom and clean up, confident unbothered attitude. Certainly none of the holding and cuddling that just happened, brief though it’d been.
Daniel watches, thrown for a loop. Armand drops the condom in the trash then stands there in the dark bathroom. He’s quiet and still, staring into nothing. Daniel waits for a beat, two, before asking, “Why? Are you?”
Armand startles a bit, looks back into the bedroom. “Am I– sleeping with others?”
“Yeah,” Daniel confirms. Jesus, this kid… “Are you sleeping with anyone else?”
“No,” the kid answers. He doesn’t offer any more information, just continues standing by the trashcan, preternaturally still.
“Why not?” Daniel blurts, then wants to kick himself. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “Jesus, ignore me… None of my business, right?”
As expected, Armand doesn’t reply. The kid is private, keeps himself hidden, his heart guarded. Ironically, that says a lot on its own. Pain, trauma buried deep. Fragile, handle with care.
Daniel is not the most gentle of men. He’s going to break this sweet boy…
“I need to use the toilet,” Armand says.
And how is Daniel supposed to reply? No, you’re not allowed to piss, stay here and explain yourself to me. Let me crack open your skull and look inside. Daniel sighs, nods. Decides to clarify, “You still staying?”
“Yes. If I’m still welcome.”
“I’d rather you stay,” Daniel tells him. “I’ll order in something for dinner.”
Armand nods then closes the bathroom door behind himself
~*~
After supper– Thai from that place by the campus Daniel knows Armand likes– Daniel queues up a movie on Netflix. They settle in on the couch, Armand slowly inching across the space between them until Daniel finds his arm slung across the back of the couch, the kid’s head resting on his shoulder. It’s warm, comfortable, domestic in a way he tries not to dwell on. In a way he hasn’t had in over ten years, not since his last divorce.
He’s dozing, the late hour starting to creep up on him, when Armand murmurs, “It is better with you.”
“Huh?” Daniel asks, feeling as though he’s gotten lost in the middle of a conversation. His belly is full and the boy is a little furnace up against his side. That languid post-coital satisfaction is still lingering. He hasn’t been this content in a long time.
“Before, you asked why I wasn’t seeing anyone else,” Armand says. Then, the answer, “The sex is better with you.”
“Well,” Daniel says, struggling for words. Jesus, this kid… “With age does come experience.”
Armand hmms, noncommittal. He curls a delicate hand around Daniel’s forearm, drowsy eyes fixed on the movie. Finally, he says, “You have a large penis.”
Daniel guffaws. He’s unsure whether to be flattered or offended. “Hey, happy to be of service.”
“And you are–,” Armand pauses, as though searching for words. Finally settles on… “Safe.”
The implications in that one word. Daniel’s near certain the kid doesn’t mean safe as in a safe bet, a sure thing. He means that he feels safe. And the fact that the kid is finding safety here of all places– in an old journalist’s arms, in his own professor’s bed, without any defined relationship. Is he speaking about emotional safety? Or is he speaking about physical safety?
Daniel’s afraid it’s the latter.
“Yeah, honey. You’re safe here,” Daniel tells him, quiet.
Armand sighs, a heavy inhale and exhale. Sweet boy, Daniel thinks, letting his fingers play in Armand’s curls. He’s careful not to make tangles– the kid’s hair is softer than it looks but so very thick. Whatever product he uses has given up somewhere between sex and the late hour. In that moment, he looks so small. Snuggled against Daniel’s side, legs tucked underneath himself. Dressed only in boxer-briefs and one of Daniel’s old button-downs left open at the front. Though tall, his frame is slight. The shirt is too large.
When Armand had first become his assistant, he’d associated this fondness with paternal affection. The kid is younger than his daughters, after all. And though Armand is certainly more put together than most his age, there is still a sense of childlike fear and uncertainty clinging to him. He's a complex enigma of youth and maturity.
Daniel doesn’t know when it stopped being a purely paternal sort of affection and started being this. A twist of the romantic and sexual making something perverted.
If there’s a hell, Daniel has reserved himself a spot.
“Whatever you need from me, kid, you just have to ask,” Daniel says, once the quiet between them has stretched on too long. “But I hope you know you deserve better.”
In the low light, flickering glow from the television, the kid looks like a sculpture. All his tiny imperfections faded away– all those things Daniel does his best not to notice. Not to fixate on. His misshapen ear and his weird toes and the little scar on his cheek. In the dark, he looks too perfect to be real.
“I don’t want anyone else, Daniel,” Armand says. Then, with fidgeting hands, “If you choose to see someone else, please have the courtesy to tell me…”
“Honey, I can barely keep up with you. Do you really think I’m out looking for a little something on the side?” Daniel says with a smirk. “Gonna have to get a Cialis prescription.”
Armand laughs– such a sweet and rare occurrence– and straightens up to look Daniel in the eye. He keeps his hand curled around Daniel’s forearm and, sounding genuinely curious, asks, “You don’t take a pill?”
“What–?” Daniel splutters, caught under the kid’s inquisitive gaze. Why would he– is it normal for a kid in his late twenties to be thinking about aging men’s erectile problems? Did Daniel himself when he was in his twenties? Hard to say– he can’t remember half of his twenties, blitzed as he was.
Maybe it’s different when you’re actively sleeping with an older man…
“I just assumed,” Armand says, shrugging. “Most men your age do.”
“Have some tact, kid, for fuckssake,” Daniel says, and he doesn’t realize how soft the boy’s expression has gone over the past couple of hours until that moment. When it suddenly goes blank again. Jesus, this kid… “No, I’ve been pretty lucky, as far as that goes. I mean, if you want it again tonight, you’ll have to settle for less, if you get me…”
Armand stares at him in silence for a long lingering beat. His expression begins to once again soften around the edges, and the corner of his lips lift in a tiny smile. “You have never left me wanting,” he admits, breathed between them as though in secret.
“You sure know how to stroke an old man’s ego,” Daniel says. When he reaches and cups the boy’s cheek, Armand leans into the touch, lets himself be pulled closer. Lips part, waiting to be kissed, and Daniel murmurs ‘beautiful boy’ before guiding them together.
Normally, their kisses are heated and biting things, desperate and leading to the bedroom. That, or they are goodbye kisses, quick and perfunctory and without much feeling. This, though? This kiss soft and gentle, warm presses of lips, slide of a delicate hand from Daniel’s forearm to shoulder. Loving, Daniel dares think.
He does his best to shut that feeling down as they part.
“May I spend tomorrow night here, as well?” Armand asks, a bit breathless, looking Daniel over with wide eyes.
“You’re welcome here anytime, baby,” Daniel answers.
He already has that spot in hell, after all. Might as well enjoy the ride.