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The leather club is loud and dim and smoky. Armand’s skin is itching, something he did not think would be possible for his undead body to feel. Daniel has his leather jacket on, the dark brown piece which Armand recalls from the week at Divisadero they do not speak of.
Daniel does not have a spare leather jacket for Armand to wear, but he has persuaded the vampire to stuff their pockets with choice cotton handkerchiefs the likes of which Armand’s style choices and tastes absolutely detest.
“I like the purple,” Armand said, when they were getting ready at Daniel’s apartment earlier tonight. He was reaching out to the purple cloth that was among the array of coloured cotton squares in Daniel’s drawer. Daniel grabbed his wrist and Armand allowed him to pluck the cloth from his fingers.
“Sorry, babe, purple will send the wrong message to this particular crowd. You might get attention you don’t want.”
As Daniel folded the purple square away, Armand could not help himself from being curious why Daniel might have a handkerchief he does not use. He then considered that the purpose of these colours is to get attention.
Armand felt compelled to reach out and grip Daniel’s sleeve, or perhaps his waist. He did not move, holding his own hands as he spoke softly, “I do not desire any mortal’s attention aside from yours.”
Daniel turned to look at Armand, his expression was painfully unreadable. Armand is trying so hard to be good, considerate that Daniel prefers to use words to express himself. Daniel filed through his colours and plucked out two handkerchiefs for Armand.
“Trust me, little monster,” Daniel whispered as he carefully folded and tucked the cotton squares into Armand’s rear pants pockets, a simple gray in the left, and the other a garish orange in the right. That is all that Armand needed to hear.
Armand also remained perfectly calm when Daniel had the perfect opportunity to caress his backside whilst or after tucking in the offensively coloured handkerchiefs and refrained. Armand will analyze every possible angle of the non-interaction later.
Daniel then pulled out another gray square and tucked it into his own right rear pocket first, followed by a light-blue. His left pocket was then stuffed with a deep blue handkerchief. Armand will admit Daniel has a nice eye for drapery.
Before they left Daniel’s apartment, Armand found the courage to wrap one hand over Daniel’s bicep. The boy looked at him like he was startled. Was Armand so monstrous? He let go.
“Do you desire the attentions of others?” Armand asked, using his voice and eyes and everything he could manage to express his absolute terror at the thought of Daniel finding someone else at the leather basement.
Daniel’s gaze softened like butter. “Babe,” he began, and his tone was full of fondness that had Armand’s mind reeling. “I like feeling hot, but I’m not gonna let anyone else touch me. And, I think it’d be pretty hot if you’re the one who doesn’t let anyone else touch me. What do you think?”
A game. Armand can play games. He is excellent at games.
“My boy,” he whispered, reaching out again, and this time taking Daniel by the scruff of his neck. “You’ll be a good boy, yes? Keep to my heel.”
Daniel’s cheeks reddened and Armand felt a fluttering rush of pride in his belly. When the boy nodded, Armand pet Daniel’s hair like one would stroke an especially loyal hound.
The smell of arousal coming off of Daniel at that moment was delicious. Enough for Armand to forgive, at least at the moment, Daniel’s transgression of not groping his ass when he should have. Daniel can foolishly keep his hands to himself all he wants if this is how he will smell around Armand.
The leather club is quite faithful to the imagined environment from Daniel’s mind. Dim light, smoky air, and men clad in leather groping each other to varying extents and extremes. Armand also can hear and smell at least two men in a separate room down a darkened corridor partaking in an extreme privately. Black latex gloves and surgical lubricant. He considers this for a moment, and decides there will be time enough to investigate that room another night.
Daniel has taken his promise to be good to heart, walking one step behind Armand at all times like a darling pup, looking up at his master with parted jaws, hoping to catch a little treat. Armand orders two drinks for the both of them when they reach the bar and he pats the wooden bar stool to signal Daniel to sit. Armand enjoys the skip of Daniel’s pulse as a small flash of humiliation courses through his boy as he obeys the unspoken command like a good dog.
The bartender places the two drinks beside them and Daniel hands one to Armand and takes a sip of his own.
Daniel leans into Armand’s ear. “Look at those two,” he says, and Armand briefly dips into Daniel’s mind to latch onto the couple that has his boy’s attention.
The two men are beautiful, Armand will admit. The boyish one of the two is on his knees between the other’s legs, facing away from Daniel and Armand. This does provide them the view of the colour code adorning his backside. A bright orange similar to Armand’s is hanging from the boy’s left rear pocket, and in his right pocket a grey alongside a light-blue. The man lounging in one of the basement’s surprisingly lush armchairs is stroking and tugging the boy’s hair as he clearly is being serviced by the boy’s mouth. After a few seconds of watching, Armand notices a black band of leather is fastened around the boy’s throat. Armand’s jaw feels tight and his fangs ache.
“Tell me what the colours mean, Daniel.” Armand’s voice is turned soft, his eyes are locked on the fornicating men across the crowded room.
Daniel smiles, leans back to take a long sip of his drink, then leans back in. “The left and right make the colours mean different things, different angles that you’re coming at something from. That baby blue in his right pocket means he’s here to take cock down his throat, he loves it.” Armand tilts his head as he listens, as he watches. Fascinating. Daniel continues, “The orange on the left means he’s open to do anything with anyone here tonight.”
Armand thinks of the orange handkerchief that was carefully tucked and draped from his right rear pocket earlier this evening by his boy. “And my orange?” he asks. His pupils are wide as he watches the seated man hold firmly to the back of the boy’s head, keeping the boy still and mouth stuffed full, throat working around the head of the man’s cock.
“Orange on the right means you’re here to watch, to cruise. A disinvitation to anyone looking.” Daniel takes another sip of his drink as he glances over at the scene unfolding between the two men. Armand hums an acknowledgement.
“The grey on the right means he is here to submit. Loves it, wants it so bad.” Daniel finishes his drink, then swaps glasses with Armand without a word. “Grey on the left,” he says, leaning forward to rest his cheek on Armand’s shoulder, wanting the closest possible view to Armand’s face. “That means you like to be in control, to dominate someone else,” he says.
“To dominate me,” he does not say, but purposely thinks it so very loudly. Armand’s gaze breaks from the two men and he turns to look at Daniel. His view is mostly just the top of his curly hair, and his blue-green eyes staring up at him coyly.
“My poor pathetic boy,” he croons, taking his free hand to cup Daniel’s jaw. “Are you such an impatient thing.” Armand’s tone does not make this a question but a taunting statement. “Do you need me to make a scene of what a simple, eager hole you are?”
Daniel’s lips part, taking a gasp of air, and leaving his jaw lax in Armand’s grip. His eyes are begging for more, and Armand is coming to realize with every passing night that he is less and less willing to deny this delicious boy a thing.
Armand takes a scan of the large room. It has been centuries since he found himself in such a clearly and publicly sexual space, and it makes his skin feel tight and itchy. He searches for a spot in the room where he may sit and indulge his boy and simultaneously be veiled from the perception of the other humans in their company.
Across from the bar is a long wall that eventually becomes the dark hallway that leads to the black gloves room. Along the wall there are red-bulbed sconces providing a pitiful orb of light over a row of overstuffed armchairs. The lights are further spaced apart than the armchairs, and one chair in particular rests in the very middle of the space between two lights.
“Finish your drink.” Armand says, and Daniel is chugging the remainder of the rum and coke. When he half-turns and places the glass on the bar, Armand does the same with his empty glass before taking a firm gasp of the back of Daniel’s neck.
The two men who were lounging on the chair suddenly have a marvellously inspired idea to move their activities elsewhere as Daniel is lovingly pushed by the neck towards it.
Armand sits in the shrouded chair, legs spread apart for Daniel to find his place. “Kneel.” Armand says, and Daniel is down with scant regard for his knees. The vampire then remembers the part he is meant to be playing in this scene. He forgets what is between his legs most nights, and he tilts his head, dips his chin, playing the predator for his boy, as he remembers.
Every error can become part of the show.
“Take me out, my beautiful boy, make me hard.” Armand stretches his arms along the sprawling armrests of the armchair and watches as Daniel unfastens Armand’s belt and undoes his trousers. The scent of the boy’s lust is overwhelming to Armand’s senses and he fights himself from closing his burning eyes.
Daniel’s warm hands stroke over his clothed crotch, wide palms providing gentle and delightfully imprecise stimulus before one hand reaches into Armand’s underwear and takes him in hand directly. Skin to skin contact is almost too much, Armand’s hands grip the armrests tightly, claws puncturing the leather.
He is hardening slowly in his boy’s grasp, and he watches near-helplessly as Daniel takes the spongy head into his pink mouth. His tongue is warm and wet, lapping at the sticky mess that beads at the tip.
Armand focuses on the sensation, focuses on the goal of pleasure and of satisfying his boy’s exhibitionist aspiration. What stubbornly pushes into the front of his mind is the fact that Armand has failed to perform for his boy for days now. Each sexual encounter since his arrival has been one embarrassment after another. How far Amadeo has fallen, his one and only valuable skill atrophied to disappointing flaccidity.
A small whimper escapes Daniel’s throat and Armand’s eyes re-focus to his lap. Daniel seems to be redoubling his efforts on Armand’s cock, taking it fully into his mouth, one hand gently gripping the hair over his mons pubis and the other massaging his balls. Armand is once again being handled by his fascinating boy with such delicate care despite all of his failures. He reaches out to run his fingers through Daniel’s hair, gently, reverently. He deserves so much more than Armand has given to him.
My good boy, Armand projects into Daniel’s mind before he can think to stop himself. Then tears fall from Daniel’s eyes and Armand swiftly tunes into Daniel’s vulnerable mortal heartbeat.
He says I’m good, I’m good, I’m good. He’ll keep me if I stay good. Why is my tongue not fucking working?
Armand must tell Daniel how he very much intends to keep him. “I should have a collar made for you, my boy,” he says, one hand coming to hold Daniel’s neck. “To be certain that should you get lost, my lost pup would be returned to my care.”
Daniel is so malleable and agreeable to Armand’s touch, acquiescing to Armand’s grip on his neck, even as he is pushed off Armand’s cock. His head lolls back obscenely, his wet eyes blearily looking up at Armand with rapt adoration.
Armand has both of his hands wrapped around Daniel’s neck in a grip that ought to be threatening to a sane mortal. Daniel’s thoughts are simply radiating outward with feelings of security, the sense of being cradled in this vampire’s hands. Armand pushes further, further until Daniel is on his back on the cold tiled floor and Armand is looming over him, fighting against the base urge to thrash this boy’s head against the floor, to crack his skull open and reveal what could possibly be causing him to look upon Armand’s ghastly form, his utter unholy existence, and claim to want to be his.
Daniel’s cheeks are pink, blood flushing his face as his breathing is restricted. His hand is wrapped around one of Armand’s wrists. He can feel the edges of Armand’s nails pin to the back of his neck, likely making blood bead up to the surface of his skin.
“You want me.” Daniel breathes out the words, eyes hazy and hooded. Some more tears escape and run across his temples and into his hair. If it were not for the pure earnestness in his voice, Armand would think the boy’s words were a taunt. But Daniel’s mind is simply reeling with the thought of Armand’s desire.
Armand is beyond words now. Of course he wants Daniel. Daniel is his beloved, perceptive, fascinating, beautiful boy and he will destroy anything and anyone that tries to keep them apart.
As Armand closes the distance between their lips, he can feel Daniel stop breathing, just for a second, before he sharply inhales through his nose and his mouth starts working against Armand’s.
They so rarely do this, so rarely kiss, and Armand realizes they have both been starving. He would never again let his boy go hungry. Armand sits on Daniel’s hips, curling his body over, both hands holding Daniel by the throat, as they devour each other.
The club-goers around them give them a wide berth, without much effort on Armand’s part. Though they will not possibly step nearer to them, Armand can feel their eyes on him and on his boy. There is a war inside him, between the part of him that has only known himself to be valued when he is the object of sensual desire and another part of himself that screams and cries to belong to this foolish boy and be the only one privileged to see and touch him like this.
Armand then feels the caress of Daniel’s hand on his left buttock, long overdue from the start of the evening. He breaks away from their kiss, pressing his nose firmly under Daniel’s jaw, letting Daniel regain his breath. Daniel’s hand squeezes and Armand reflexively rolls his hips down against Daniel’s, and he can feel that he is growing hard and pressing solidly against Daniel’s erection through Daniel’s trousers.
The wave of relief that crashes through Daniel’s body, through his mind, and then into Armand’s, as the boy feels this monster’s cock obtruding against his own, has Armand licking Daniel’s cheeks clean of salty tears.
“My boy,” Armand whispers, adjusting his grip on Daniel so that he is cradling his head more than he is holding his neck. Daniel looks up at him with awe-filled shimmering eyes, still wet but no longer overfilling.
“My little monster,” Daniel replies, grinning, tilting his head fiendishly just so Armand can be more tempted by the pulse pounding in his jugular. His beautiful boy with a deathwish. Still, the term of endearment does make Armand’s insides warm and quivery. It makes Armand yearn to be cradled in Daniel’s arms, makes him feel closer to worthy of affection.
Armand rolls his hips down against Daniel again, a pleading look in his devilish eyes. Daniel’s other hand finds Armand’s ass, and he gives Armand a slow symmetrical squeeze before his dominant hand slips away and between them to undo his fly and pull his cock out.
The feeling of both of their cocks pressing against each other, both hard and filled with blood, heated silky skin rubbing together, it all overwhelms Armand. He licks along Daniel’s neck now, inhaling his delicious scent and battling the itch in his gums as his fangs despair.
Daniel’s hand wraps around them both and he gives them a slow stroke. Armand gasps, hands gripping tighter, fingers weaving into Daniel’s hair. “Please,” Armand pants, using his grip to angle Daniel’s neck more accessibly to his mouth. Daniel moans as he is re-arranged and nods as best as he can with his range of movement limited.
“Yeah, baby, bite me.” Armand’s fangs sink down into Daniel’s neck the second the words are out of the boy’s mouth. He drinks delicately, daintily, wanting so much to be clean and perfect as Daniel’s hands treat him so well. There is a warmth in his throat and his belly, and Daniel strokes them together, squeezing in an erratic pattern. When Daniel chooses to antagonize the head of Armand’s cock with a focused roll of the palm of his hand, Armand almost chokes on the blood.
“You’re good,” Daniel is quick to soothe him, hand leaving Armand’s ass momentarily to rub up and down the length of his back. Armand is lulled back into peacefully feeding and being held and being pleasured. “So good.”
Daniel’s hand is warm and strong and sure, perfectly caressing the two of them in tandem. Armand has never been so delicately guided through his pleasure as he is now. He is taking slow, measured sips from Daniel, savouring his boy’s flavour on his tongue, his heat surrounding his fangs and sliding down his throat. He whimpers as he is steadily pulled towards orgasm by Daniel’s hand, the heat between them delicious and rare.
He spills over Daniel’s hand and his shirt and immediately detests their surroundings. He curls himself around Daniel as he carefully removes himself from his neck. He makes a small precise cut on his fingertip with his thumbnail and presses his blood to Daniel’s neck to close the puncture wounds without getting his boy too messy.
Daniel whines as Armand licks his neck clean. He is thinking of what the other clubgoers must think of them. Such a sweet thing he is, Armand thinks as he kisses his boy’s neck. None of them see anything out of the ordinary. Just one beautiful man dominating another in a place designed for such an act.
Armand has the two of them outside and in a taxicab before Daniel catches up to having his hand held between both of Armand’s in the vampire’s lap. Daniel’s head is tilted back against the seat, looking dishevelled and effortlessly fascinating when he blinks rapidly and begins to actively participate in the energy of this car ride. Armand does not wish to admit that he had hoped he could get Daniel home and washed and put into bed before he might rise back up from the dreamy space he had drifted into.
Daniel smiles at Armand, not speaking a word.
When they pull up to Daniel’s building, Armand overpays the driver before rounding the car to extract Daniel from the seat. Daniel leans heavily on Armand’s slight frame as they head inside and up to Daniel’s apartment.
Daniel feels warm and fuzzy around the edges as they get into his apartment. He pulls his shirt off and drops it carelessly on the floor as he walks towards his bed. Armand intercepts him to remove his trousers before letting Daniel drop himself onto the bed.
Daniel sprawls out on his back, wearing only his briefs, looking at Armand like there is nowhere else he would rather be. Armand has started to allow himself to believe that might be true and that is utterly terrifying.
Armand strips himself down and lays himself nude along Daniel’s body, welcomed by open arms, and soft lips against his cheek.
“D’you have fun tonight, baby?”
Armand lets out an affirmative hum and pushes himself further against Daniel’s chest. Daniel’s arms fold around his shoulders, rubbing and soothing.
“And you, beloved?” Armand says at a whisper. He does not expect Daniel’s breath to quiver, his chest to spasm against him. His eyes snap open to see Daniel’s teary eyes just before the boy retracts one hand from Armand’s body to cover his face in shame.
“Daniel,” Armand says, calm. No response other than another sharp breath.
“Daniel!” Armand exclaims, both hands grabbing for Daniel. He easily removes the hand covering Daniel’s face, and withstands the pitiful push Daniel gives to his shoulder in a petty retaliation.
“Explain.” Armand demands, hands cupping Daniel’s red cheeks. Daniel closes his eyes and shakes his head.
Armand cannot fail again. Not again.
He kisses Daniel once more. Kissing helped at the leather basement. Daniel likes when they kiss.
A soft press of their lips becomes an exchange involving tongues and teeth and not fang despite Daniel’s own probing with the tip of his tongue. Armand can at least be proud that he has successfully distracted the boy from his mallaise.
“Please. Explain.” Armand begs.
Daniel is still for a moment, blinking his wet eyes at Armand, before licking his lips and bringing his hands to hold Armand’s cheek.
“It’s stupid.”
No. Unacceptable.
“You are a brilliant mortal, you may be foolish to spend your precious time with a creature such as myself, though you are not stupid. Explain.” Armand refrains from shaking the boy.
Daniel looks like he may cry again but he goes on to speak. “You haven’t called me ‘beloved’ in the past few days and I was starting to think that I wasn’t… that. Anymore.”
Armand was so mistaken. Daniel is stupid.
So stupid. The stupidest genius.
“Never could you not be my beloved, Daniel.” Armand pushes an aggressive kiss to Daniel’s lips, if only to simply ensure his message is heard and felt. Daniel smiles and sighs against Armand’s lips, and Armand knows deeply that Daniel understands now.
Daniel is his. Beloved forever.
Forever.