Chapter Text
Daniel Molloy’s surprised he’s still kicking at sixty nine years old. He lives alone in an apartment in upstate New York. It’s not too bad, and it’s just the perfect size for him. Alice and him got a divorce several decades ago now and then he remarried. They had a daughter, whom he rarely hears from anymore. He remains twice-divorced and doesn’t expect to remarry anytime, especially since he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s only a few weeks ago.
He felt obliged to tell his family, though many of them were busy now, and he didn’t want to be a burden for either of them. They had their own lives, and so did Daniel. He debated whether he should just check himself into an old folks home or just cave and hire a caretaker. Both scenarios made him uncomfortable; he loved his independence. He didn’t exactly like being told what to do. His routine stays the same, finding leisure in the small things like building a puzzle or simply reading books he’s never finished. The journalist still goes out, though it’s not as common as he once did.
One morning. he was scrolling through random news feeds on his phone. He doesn’t follow as many pop culture sites, but he likes to indulge from time to time. Despite his age, he liked to stay caught up to current events, the gossip was hard not to get engrossed in. He saw a story that made his heart stop, eyes widening. It was a photograph of Louis with Lestat’s arms wrapped around his waist.
Lestat had pictures strewn across Times Square and throughout the city as his rockstar career finally took off. He considered reaching out to him for an interview years prior, but never really had the guts. Lestat and Louis were now an open couple and were the top creators on Only Fangs. It was more of Louis' area of work, either helping his partner make content, or sometimes Louis would be featured as well.
Perhaps, Daniel got drunk the night after reading the article and downloaded the app embarrassingly on his phone. He scrolled through the videos, face bright red and pants tightening. If either of them ever found out, he knew he’d never hear the end of it, especially from Lestat.
He figured both of them lived in Los Angeles now, he thinks back about how they first met in San Francisco. Daniel was only twenty seven then, his whole life ahead of him. While he did somewhat miss being a hot vampire couple's third, it was nice seeing them happy and still together.
Lately he’s was felt particularly restless, feeling imprisoned in his own home. The photographs and trinkets everywhere are somewhat a painful reminder of how lonely he actually is. There’s no lover in his bed to hold as he drifts off to sleep. Daniel had grown used to being by himself, he preferred his own company most of the times. Yet, he couldn’t ignore this longing ache festering inside of him for years and years.
Maybe he should get a cat or something; he could sneak one in without his landlord knowing. For now, he still kept his plush brown dog by his pillow. The toy was slightly worn now, the once bright fur now faded with age. He doesn’t know who gave him the gift. It was a mystery he had been trying to figure out for decades now. Maybe he’ll never truly know; perhaps it was just a coincidence after all.
However, he decides to grab his keys and leave his apartment complex before the late afternoon rain comes. Daniel finds himself nestled into the same corner of his favorite bookstore cafe in the city.
It’s a quaint little place, doesn’t get a ton of traffic, especially in the evenings, which the old journalist particularly likes. He’ll drink his coffee and either read a book or jot down some ideas into his notebook. It gets him out of his house at least for a little bit and brings him a sense of nostalgia. All those years ago, doing research and conducting interviews. He’d spend restless nights exploring the city and hunting down leads. It was some of his most thrilling experiences.
The front door’s bell chimes as someone saunters into the store. Daniel naturally looks up, his breath hitching in his throat. A young man, probably around his late twenties, always shows up a little bit after Daniel finally gets settled in. He’s been coming here for a year now, and the man appears like clockwork. Daniel only ever comes here on Wednesday or Thursday evenings since they’re not as busy.
The young man sits in the same spot, in the opposite corner by the window, with a wide view of the busy street. Sometimes he’d type away on his iPad, or he would simply read a book. He was effortlessly gorgeous, with inky curls and bronze skin, looking cool to the touch. His eyes were the most breathtaking brown he’s ever seen, almost golden when the light hit them at a certain angle. Despite his obvious physical attraction to the man, which he knows he should be guilty of. He is an old perverted man after all. But something about him was eerily familiar, almost like they’d met before.
He’s tapping on his screen as the rain outside scatters across the dusty window. He’s dressed in all black as raindrops cling to his overcoat. New York in the fall was beautiful with its changing colors, but still the cold would come out of nowhere and strike you with its brittleness.
Daniel gulps, fidgeting in his seat as he couldn’t stop staring. He’d usually have no problem going up and striking a conversation like he did in the past, if he saw anyone or anything that had the potential for a good story, he was right there already asking questions.
He clicks his pen closed and rubs his palms against his legs. An unusual anxiousness clings to his chest. Daniel needs to get over himself, he’s sixty nine not nineteen. He casually gets up and heads towards the books. His fingers brush against the old spines and worn cloth book covers. The old journalist somehow ends up in the poetry section as he gradually passes art and history. Novels about Rembrandt and Venetian artists line the shelves.
Daniel’s eyes drift back to the corner, and he notices the man is no longer there. Something pangs within him, like a loss. He shakes his head to himself as he looks up and sees a book that catches his eye. It looks older, almost ancient. He can barely read the spelling, squinting his eyes over the letters. His arm extends, but he’s still a little too short. The tips of his fingers reach the edge of the spine when a presence suddenly startles him.
The young man is standing on the other side of him, eyes wide and searching for something. Daniel retracts a bit, which causes the book to fall on the ground. The sound echoes across the room, and their eyes lock again. The man meekly grins as he gracefully bends down and picks up the book. He hands it towards Daniel, dark eyes shimmering in the dim light. He was even more breathtaking up close, his hair flowing over his sharp features. There was a pull beneath his ribs, like his heart was almost trying to physically escape his body. The goosebumps stood up on Daniel’s arms as he eventually spoke.
“Thanks. I— uh… didn’t see you there.” He says, hands shaking a little. His tremors would start to appear out of nowhere, and the most embarrassing moments. The man notices as his gaze flickers to his hands, swallowing thickly. His eyes linger, but not for a moment longer. Not judgmental or pitying in his stare, but aware, like he was trying to find the right words to say. The old journalist studies him even further.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The man says, his tone genuine and his voice comforting Daniel’s ears. He had a unique accent, almost like he was timeless in his speech and movements.
“Don’t worry about it, a man of my age, it doesn’t take much.” He responds, half expecting the young man to simply nod and walk away. However, he stays and looks closer at the book and then back at the journalist. He slowly inches closer.
“Interesting choice, do you read these works often?” He asks, his pupils expand awaiting Daniel’s reply. He concentrates on his choice of words, as all he can do is smirk and shake his head.
“Not often, but I like to think I’ve read a bit of everything. I’m a writer, or well, I used to be.”
The young man looks at him, and he has this sense of wonderment in his eyes that Daniel doesn’t quite understand. The guy didn’t get the concept of personal space very well. He could nightly smell the scent of his cologne, it was subtle yet pleasant.
“I know.” He says, and then Daniel immediately perks up. Head slightly tilted in curiosity. “You’re Daniel Molloy, I’ve read your books.”
Once again, their eyes are staring into one another. Daniel does his best to place him; maybe he had come to one of his book signings before? Still, the journalist had no concrete memory of it. If he knew who he was this entire time, why hasn’t he said anything? Maybe he didn’t want to disturb him or felt shy in doing so. He can’t help but grin a little.
“What’s your name?” Daniel asks, gripping onto the book tightly. He was usually good at remembering people, especially someone so recognizable. The man takes same time to respond, the air around them shifting.
“Armand.” He says, spine straightening. He’s only a couple of inches taller than Daniel, but he had long, slender legs. Armand carries himself with pointed posture and overall had a professional aura about him. Although, there was something else about him. A quiet nature to his calm, silky voice, like he was a delicate decorative teacup. A fragility there that rested within his mesmerizing golden brown eyes.
“Armand,” Daniel says it out loud. Feeling the name on his tongue. His cheeks grew a tinge of pink as his heart flipped several times in his chest. “Have we met before?”
The silence stretches between them once again as he watches controlled emotion pass the other’s face.
“No, we have not.”
Daniel clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, thumb sliding over the spine of the book again. He looks down and decides to place it back up on the shelf, the gesture not as smooth as it would’ve liked it to be.
“Well, I hope I’m not interrupting your time here.” He scratches the back of his neck, trying to hide his scar with the collar of his shirt.
“No, not at all.” Armand says, “I mostly just come here to read or catch up on emails.” Daniel nods in understanding, as they both begin to walk slowly back towards their seats.
Once the approach the main room again, Armand begins to walk back to his seat but then something inside of Daniel doesn’t want him to go just yet. There’s so much more he wants to know about the man.
“Would it be alright if I joined you?” Daniel stays still in front of him, glancing over at his belongings still left alone by his seat.
“Of course, I appreciate the company.” A beat passes, and then he’s looking back up at Daniel with those big saucer eyes again. “Especially with the talented Mr. Molloy.”
Daniel gets flustered a little as he chuckles at the reference. It’s been a while since he’s seen that film. “Please, call me Daniel.” The man only grins sweetly at him and slowly blinks, almost like a cat.
The old journalist turns to get his things. He tries to steady himself, scrubbing his face of any remaining blush lingering. Daniel finally takes a seat across from Armand, they’re both so close now.
“So, do you have a favorite work of mine?”
The question makes Armand’s lips curl into a wide smile, white, sharp teeth flashing a little. Somehow, Daniel finds himself grinning just as much, more than he has in a long time.
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Over the course of the next several weeks, Daniel finds himself spending a lot of time with Armand. He learned that he’s an art dealer but usually does most of his work from home now. The profession somehow suited him, whenever they talked about art he would get this shimmer in his eyes that was quite adorable.
Daniel had pressed him about his age several times, but Armand had never exactly confirmed. He only reassured the other that he was over the age of twenty-five. Daniel didn’t know what his age preference was; it felt like everyone was far too young for him these days. Plus, he didn’t know what the exact nature of their relationship was. Their actions were platonic, and they spoke of life, without sexual tension in their words to one another, per se. However, Daniel would catch himself at certain moments when they’d lean in closer or he’d be looking at Armand’s lips for a little too long.
That first night they met, he had strange intense dreams. He woke up clutching at his chest as his eyes were pouring with tears. Daniel was growing worried about his mental state; he felt fine, but all of a sudden he was struck with a rush of intense emotions that he hadn’t had in a while.
Today, they arranged to meet at a local park close to Daniel’s complex. It was a cloudy day, the sun hiding behind them. He brought his umbrella just in case it started to rain at all; the forecast was never completely accurate.
They walk around discussing life and unfinished projects Daniel’s never written. Their conversations always flow particularly well, the other man was so easy to talk with. They could pretty much have a discussion about anything that was deep and meaningful.
They’d share a park bench as they swapped stories, Daniel sipping his coffee as Armand stared at him.
There was this unspoken bond between them, this inherent connection they shared that Daniel hadn’t experienced much in his life.
They’re having such a nice time together, and Daniel doesn’t want to go back to his apartment alone. Today’s the date of his and Alice’s anniversary, and his mind travels to all their years they spent together and how Daniel ruined every moment. He thought about Katie and her creative mind; she was going to school to become a fashion designer. He was so incredibly proud of her, but he knew that words don’t mean much as actions.
“Mr. Molloy, is everything alright?”
Armand’s voice brings him back down to earth. He swallows and meekly nods his head.
“Yeah, uh— I’m alright,” Daniel says, voice wavering a bit. “Actually, would you like to come up for a nightcap?” He feels ridiculous asking, and the heat immediately pools across his face. Daniel almost retracts the offer when Armand picks up.
“Yes, I’d love to.” He smiles, and Daniel feels himself swoon a little bit. The young man truly had a beautiful smile, yet he didn’t show it often. The expression made him appear more like a human rather than a perfect sculpture brought to life.
“Good, I’m glad. Also, I told you it’s Daniel.” He teasingly remarks, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Only my students used to call me that.” They walk side by side as the birds chirp and fly above them. Armand simply hums, gaze lingering once again.
“Well, your students were luckier than they may have realized.” His tone is gentle and sincere, which makes Daniel’s breath hitch a little. “To be taught by such a brilliant man.”
He rubs the back of his neck, unable to look Armand in the eyes as he plays off the moment with a loud chuckle. “You’re dangerous with compliments. Do you say that to all the aging ex-professors you meet in bookstore cafes?”
“Only the brilliant ones.” He turns and scans him up and down before striding a bit quicker in front of him. His hair bounces slightly as it rests on his shoulders. It looks so soft, Daniel naturally wonders what it feels like.
“Careful. Keep that up and I might start thinking you’re trying to seduce me.” His thoughts run rampant before he can properly control them. He mentally cringes to himself. A beat passes but it’s not long before Armand responds.
“Would that be such a terrible thing?”
Daniel says nothing this time, doing his best to distract his mind from the gorgeous man next to him subtly flirting like he’s some hot new reporter. He may have been one back then, but he’s nothing like that now. The old journalist suddenly feels the urge to get drunk and very fast before he does something stupid. At least if he said something dumb and Armand was also tipsy, perhaps he wouldn’t remember it as clearly. Good old fashioned Molloy logic.
They take the elevator and neither of them talks, the dull music playing on a loop over and over. Eventually, the elevator dings, and they arrive on Daniel’s floor. He takes his key and turns it into the lock, the door clicking open. He flips on the lights as warm yellow light fills the space. Daniel heads into the kitchen to begin pouring them drinks. He watches as Armand takes off his coat, hanging it up on the wall. His back muscles contract underneath the tight fabric of his shirt. Daniel catches himself staring as he pours a little more vermouth into his martini.
Armand takes a seat on the couch as Daniel hands him his drink. Their fingers brush only momentarily, but every time, there’s like an electric current between them that the old journalist can’t explain. Noises of the city are muffled outside as Daniel wonders if the silence between them is a bit too apparent. He clears his throat as he downs most of his drink.
“So, you said your favorite was A Shadow On The Skin.” Armand leans forward, resting his head on his arm as he looks up at Daniel dreamily. “But everyone says that, was that the only good book I’ve ever written? I’ve won two Pulitzers, you know.” Armand cracks a smile as he nods, eyes going bright.
“Yes, I’m well aware. Like I mentioned, I’ve read all of your works. But perhaps your memoir is another one I’m particularly fond of.”
The old journalist quirks en eyebrow up at him, tilting his head in curiosity. The recliner shifts under his weight, he suddenly wants to be closer to Armand but he knows this is a safer distance.
“Really? Which part?” Daniel can’t help but narrow his eyes studying him playfully but the more his gaze begins to drift down the front of his shirt which he now realized is slightly unbuttoned. Revealing the smooth skin that rests beneath, peppered with black hair. Armand just smirks at him, a mischievous look playing on his cherub face. He feels like he’s drooling as he desperately finishes the rest of his martini. Maybe he’s gonna need something stronger after all.
Armand goes silent then, as he looks off in the distance. He raises his drink to his mouth and downs the rest of it in one gulp. Daniel flashes him an amused glance. He rests the glass on the table. Daniel tries to reach forward to grab it like a good host, but Armand beats him to it.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get us more.” He says, expression so domestic and warm that Daniel feels coursing throughout his veins. Armand takes his glass, and their fingers brush once again, his breath halting a little.
The man slowly walks over to the counter, and he hears the alcohol being mixed and poured. Daniel takes a moment to try and calm the rate of his heartbeat, afraid that Armand might be able to hear it somehow. He then hears feet shuffling, then the movement stops. Curiosity grabs hold of him, and Daniel looks back at the other. Armand is staring at a photograph on the fridge, it’s the only notable thing hanging up, despite his calendar and schedule for when he needs to take his pills.
The photo is of him with his two daughters when they were about twenty and twenty five years old. It’s hard to see Armand’s face due to the nature of his turned body but he somehow looks stricken with emotion.
“That’s Katie and Ashley, that was our first picture all together when I finally got my act cleaned up.” Daniel shakes his head, the memories hitting him like a truck. He wants to see them again, but he knows he’s unworthy of their time.
“You had two daughters,” Armand says, still standing in place as he holds both of the drinks in his hands.
“Yeah, I didn’t write about them much. I know I should have.” The air suddenly grows with tension, and Daniel feels a lump growing in his throat.
“I wasn’t the greatest father, I fucked up a lot.” He admits, back hunching in defeat. Armand turns then as he walks over to Daniel, handing him his drink. The old journalist looks up at him with a weak smile. Armand passes and takes a tentative seat on the couch, sitting on the far end closest to the other.
“We don’t get to rewind the past. But we can still forgive the version of ourselves who didn’t know how to do better.” Armand states, his elegant fingers tracing the rim of the glass. All Daniel can do is stare at him in awe. However, the young man continues. “But you’re still here. And that means that there’s still time. For healing. For forgiveness. Even for love.”
Their eyes lock onto one another again, heart hammering like it’s about to burst through his mouth. Armand was truly unlike anyone he’s ever met before. Daniel attempts to suppress his drink to ignore his eyes misting. He tries to casually wipe them without Armand noticing, but he fails.
Armand then extends his hand and rests it on top of Daniel’s. His skin is cool to the touch, and it’s electrifying all at the same time. The gesture is simple and comforting. His eyes flick back down, admiring their hands, pressed against one another. Armand eventually pulls away because he has to at some point, but a part of him aches when he does. It makes the tears threaten to fall even worse somehow.
“Sorry— Christ. I cry once every decade, and of course, it had to be in front of the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.” Daniel says, causing the other to stare at him now. Fuck. The alcohol was settling in, and he was doing the exact thing he didn’t want to do. He feels his face heat up as he shakily finishes his drink, avoiding all eye contact with Armand.
“I never told you which part of your memoir was my favorite.” He suddenly says, looking from his glass and then at the old journalist. All Daniel can do is gulp as he listens carefully to Armand. He slowly nods, his bottom lip trembling for an unknown reason.
“The whole book is captivating from start to finish. I enjoyed reading about your transition from San Francisco to New York City. I felt like I was connected to you. You’re good at making the reader feel like they’re experiencing what you’re describing, like they’re right there with you.” It’s mesmerizing seeing Armand ramble on about Daniel’s writing and what it means to him. He gets so expressive when he talks about something he’s passionate about, and that something was Daniel. His heart soars and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s drunk, but he wants to kiss him.
“Oh, Daniel. Don’t you see? You are still that man. You’ve gotten older but that doesn’t make you any less than. You’re the one who is beautiful, you were then and you still are now.” His voice is raw and true, it ignites something inside of Daniel that feels like a dam breaking.
Daniel just shakes his head. He wishes he could believe Armand, but deep down, he can’t. He’ll never be in the prime of his youth again. Worse than that, his body was withering away from a disease he had no control over.
“I have Parkinson’s, Armand.” He bluntly states, needing to hear the words out loud for himself as well. The normalcy he had was dwindling, the life he’s had is going to forever change.
Daniel stares ahead for a long moment after saying it. His hands tremble. There’s a weight behind his words, like he’s exhaling something he’s held in for far too long. Daniel hasn’t told the other until this moment, afraid he would scare him away. But he figured Armand should know, he’s been so kind to him thus far.
“It’s… already starting to change things. Little things. I forget words. I fumble. My body’s giving up before I’m ready to let it go.” His voice wavers. He hates how small he feels saying talking about it.
Armand moves closer, still holding his hand. His expression is soft, open and loving in a way that startles Daniel. He’s not recoiling. Not pitying him. Armand’s just there. His hands are fully trembling now, and Daniel can’t stop them. The other man gently moves forward and cups both his palms on top of Daniel’s, the familiar feeling soothing his nerves.
“I’m not afraid of what’s changing. Not when what’s still here is you.” Armand says. His response makes a shiver go up his spine a little. It’s like he could read his mind, like he knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling.
Daniel blinks, lips parting slightly. His heart is hammering again, but this time not from fear.
“You talk like you know me better than I know myself.” He lets out an airy chuckle, pain still laced in his voice. A faint smile flickers across Armand’s face. It holds something wistful.
“Maybe I just see you. Even if you don’t yet.”
Daniel exhales, shaky. His eyes start to mist again, but he doesn’t look away this time. The tension between them is thick, not urgent, just full. Heavy with something unspoken, unnamed. Armand reaches out and brushes a tear from Daniel’s cheek, his fingers cold but grounding.
“You’re allowed to be tired. To be scared. But please don’t think for a second that you are anything less than extraordinary.” The young man states. Daniel swallows hard. He tries to speak, he doesn’t know what he means to say but instead, he just lets himself feel it.
“You’re so kind. Kinder than I know what to do with.” He quietly says, voice breaking a bit. Daniel hates being perceived as vulnerable around others, especially men he’s barely known. However, Armand didn’t feel that way at all. The man’s presence felt like he had been there his entire life.
Their eyes meet again. Daniel’s breath catches, and something in his chest gives. Armand leans in, slow and steady, his gaze never leaving Daniel’s.
“Then let me show you what it means to be cherished,” Armand says, barely above a whisper. It’s so hushed and tender. And when Daniel doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just watches him with wide, astonished eyes.
Armand then kisses him.
Not with hunger, but with devotion. With the aching patience of someone who’s waited lifetimes for the chance to kiss him. Tears threaten to break but he pushes them deep down. The old journalist’s hands have finally calmed down, and all he needs now is to feel and touch. His body aches for Armand’s closeness. It’s not even inherently a sexual feeling but a tenderness he desperately needs to explore. Even if they just ended up holding onto one another, Daniel would be just as happy. Maybe he was a lot more touch-starved than he initially thought.
Armand eventually leans back to study Daniel’s face, checking him to make sure he’s alright. He strokes his jaw and cheek as he brushes a few straggling hairs behind his ear. His kiss was addictive, like a kiss to the brain. It centered Daniel; it filled him with a sense of belonging and purpose. Kissing Armand felt like coming home.
The other man lifted himself up and slowly sat on the edge of Daniel’s recliner, looking down at him with such admiration. Those eyes, that longing stare so familiar to Daniel yet he can’t entirely place it. Maybe he was going crazy after all but he needed more, that’s all he knows.
“Armand—“
“Yes, it’s okay, Daniel. I’m here.”
Daniel tugs a little on his leg and motions for him to come closer. Armand is fully sitting on Daniel’s lap now, nuzzling into him. They cling onto one another, his hand resting on his firm hip. The man had quite some muscle despite his slim-looking appearance.
“I know this sounds crazy, but it feels like we’ve met before.” Daniel croaks out, his mind still slightly overwhelmed. “I never do anything like this, but with you it all comes so naturally.”
Armand doesn’t say anything; he just hums lowly and clings onto him even tighter. He then sinks his fingers into his curls, soothing and rubbing.
“Maybe we have, in another life.”
The young man adjusts his weight so he’s now sitting fully in front of Daniel. He’s looking at him like he’s the most precious thing ever created. Caressing every wrinkle and dip of Daniel’s skin. This is the most intimate act he’s done since he can remember. His ex-wives never touched him this way, like he was truly a precious thing made of glass.
Daniel then grips a little tighter onto Armand’s waist. He’s been trying to ignore the ache in his groin for the past several minutes. However, Armand only gives him a coy knowing smile, and then he kissed Daniel’s cheek.
“Would you like to move to the bedroom?” Armand politely asks, voice dripping like honey.
The other just stares blankly at him like he didn’t hear what he just said, perfectly crisp and clear. His fingers move down from his scalp and prod the collar of his plaid navy blue shirt. Daniel’s pulse races with insecurity. He’s far too old to feel this shy, and he’d be an absolute idiot for denying a literal living and breathing renaissance painting speaking to him so sweetly. All he can do is slowly nod his head as Armand grins widely, reaching down and intertwining their hands together.
He gracefully gets up and Daniel does his best not to trip on his own feet. He leads them to his bedroom which he now wishes he and tidied up a bit.
“Ignore the mess, I don’t usually have any company over.” He mutters out, face steaming. He probably looks as red as a tomato by now. But Armand doesn’t seem phased at all. “I feel special then,” Armand responds, and then his eyes drift to the plush dog resting against Daniel’s pillow. His pupils expand. Shit. He shamefully covers his face and rubs the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m an old man, and I still sleep with a stuffed animal. Try not to be too impressed.” He flashes a crooked smile, trying to make light of it, but his voice softens a little. Still, a part of him is screaming inside a bit. He doesn’t know how Armand still hasn’t gotten the ick yet, or whatever the modern phrase today is.
“He’s the one relationship that never left. Loyal little bastard.” Daniel says, clearing his throat and moving the dog to the other side behind the pillow.
Daniel shoots Armand a sheepish look, but Armand hasn’t laughed. He’s just standing there, gaze fixed gently on the little dog, expression unreadable for half a second. Then he looks back at Daniel and smiles.
“There’s nothing childish about wanting to feel safe. Or… a little less alone.” Armand’s voice was raw and true as he spoke. He saw a little sliver there, another layer to the fascinating man who captivated his mind ever since he first met him.
A pause. The silence between them deepens, not awkward but tender. Daniel then takes a seat on the bed, still a little stunned at the man before him. Armand eventually joins him, and then he’s reminded about why they were here in the first place. His heart is running wild in his chest all over again.
“Daniel, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He says carefully, “But I do want you. Armand's breath catches a little in his throat. Oh. If Daniel were young and agile, like he once was, he’d shove him onto the bed and kiss him until they were both gasping and panting.
Instead Daniel nods, eyes lowering back to his plump soft lips. God, his feelings towards Armand made him dizzy but he wants him too. So badly, that it scares him a little.
“I want you too,” Daniel replies, his green eyes shimmering in the evening light. “Just— go easy on me. I’m out of practice.” He admits bashfully. Armand smiles happily and then closes the distance between them. Their kisses are slow and passionate, not too rushed, but like each of them was trying to savor every second.
“Mm, it doesn’t feel like you are.” Armand coos, the compliment making Daniel’s stomach ignite with fire. He knows he’s probably just saying then to reassure him about his doubts, but suddenly he wants to give Armand access to every part of himself. He feels like he already has.
“Careful. My ego’s already big enough, last thing I need is a reason to start thinking I’m irresistible again.” He quips back as Armand begins moving down his neck. He kisses softly, nipping at the skin.
“You’re very irresistible. Now hush, dear. Let me take care of you.” He breathes. Daniel is reeling, turning his head to grant him further access. He’s hit with another wave of familiarity. His brain flashes a mixture of pain and sadness. He moans when Armand moves his hand to cup Daniel’s half-hard erection. Daniel wants to take care of the other as well, but Armand is already having him shuffle up further against the headboard. Armand swiftly grabs a pillow and slides it behind Daniel. In the process, he grabs the corner of his shirt and tugs it over his head. The old journalist does his best not to ogle like a complete awestruck idiot.
Armand was very well-toned, his pecs were rounded and big. Daniel wants to play and suck on his nipples so desperately that he represses a guttural groan. His cock was only growing harder at just the sight of him and they’ve barely even touched yet. The man just smirks down at him as he begins to unbutton Daniel’s shirt now. His knuckles brush over his clavicle and chest, helping him remove the shirt.
Daniel sees his attention then fix on the scar on his neck, instead of wincing or grimacing he reaches out and caresses it with tender affection. “Long story with that one.” Daniel says, but he doesn’t want to talk about all of that now. Armand seems to understand and simply moves on to unzipping his pants. Daniel gulps thickly and watches the man tease him, moving so painfully slow. The old journalist bites his lip.
“Please, Armand—“
“Please, what Daniel?” He whispers seductively.
“Come on, man, you know. I’m not getting any younger here.” He jokes, yet something dark swims in Armand’s gaze as he strips himself of his pangs. Fuck he’s so gorgeous. Dark hair travels down his waist into his black briefs, his arousal very apparent and growing.
“Mm, good. I like you just the way you are.” Armand says, moving forward to help Daniel take off his pants. It was hard not to feel at least a little insecure around the man before him. Daniel’s hooked up with models, actors, musicians, you name it. But this was different; nothing happening between them felt like anything he’s ever experienced before.
The image of Armand fooling around with others made him feel strangely possessive. Which is an insane thought h he’s well aware, but he has this deep urge to want to belong to Armand and Armand alone. Maybe he really is losing his mind after all, perhaps his doctor was right and he should switch medications soon.
Regardless, Armand bends down to kiss their lips in a hungry kiss. Daniel eventually returns the urgency as he takes both of his hands to cup Armand’s face as the other sneakily slips his hand under his boxer briefs. Daniel’s hips immediately buck upwards, and Armand is grinning proudly against his mouth.
His hand is cool against his burning, pulsating skin; he feels so good it makes the other’s eyes sting a little. His control is slipping away from him the longer Armand kisses and touches him. Daniel’s afraid he’s falling and very quickly, that once he’s dropped over the edge, there's no returning from this. His movements are still and slow, almost like he’s doing his best not to break.
“I’m not fragile,” Daniel states. he knows the man is going at whatever pace he’s comfortable with, but he’s not completely far gone yet. He didn’t want to fuck him like some old man.
“I know, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be treated like you are.”
Something inside of Daniel ignites as he grabs Armand and crashes their mouths together once again, slipping his tongue inside as he explores every part of him. He’s worried if he doesn’t fuck him properly now he’ll end up weeping at a stranger’s words. Armand whines a little, and Daniel drinks in the sound as he starts tweaking his already perky hard nipples.
“Fuck— you sound so good. I wanna hear more of you.” Armand shakes a little above him as he rocks his hips into the tent of his pants. “Do you want to ride me, sweetheart?” Daniel asks, running his fingers up the curve of his spine.
The pet name seems to get a reaction out of the other as he enthusiastically bobs his head, mouth parting and falling open. His lips look so plump from kissing, and his inky curls are sticking out in every direction from Daniel gripping his hair so much. He’s a sight to behold, and Daniel’s a greedy man, only wanting it for himself.
The old journalist leans over and opens the bedside drawer. Thank god he still had condoms left, though they’ve probably been sitting there for years. He snatches the lube as well, which is mostly used.
“I may have also prepped a little beforehand”, Armand admits, lashes fluttering against his tender cheeks.
Daniel’s pupils blow so wide they probably look completely black. His heart and adrenaline were rushing like rapid water.
“Yeah? And when was that?” The investigative part of himself must know, plus it was incredibly hot that Armand had already been thinking about them having sex. It made Daniel a little restless, somewhat even more feral for him. He hasn’t felt this desired by someone since his youth.
“Before our meeting, I may have started reading your memoir again.” Armand takes a break to suck in a breath as his head rolls back a little. “The section where you mentioned seeing a man at a club so gorgeous you went up and kissed him.” Armand breathlessly explains, big golden brown eyes boring into him. Daniel does remember that memory, as hazy as it was. “I got exceptionally hard after and couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I wanted to be in his shoes.” Armand states, voice pitched with such intense pleasure.
Fuck. Daniel feels a little precome slide down his cock then as Armand’s apparent jealousy was incredibly hot to him. He couldn’t even remember that boy’s name, but it didn’t matter. Armand was the only thing that could be seen and felt now.
“Sounds like that was really your favorite part.” It’s hard not to want to tease the other just a little. Daniel can’t help himself. Armand only gulps as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, peeling off the last remaining fabric. His mouth watered at the sight. He was long, not too big in thickness, but he was almost the perfect size. Daniel imagined him pounding him into the bed so hard it caved beneath them.
The other helps him remove his underwear as Daniel slips on the condom. He adds a little lube for good measure; he doesn’t want to hurt the other. Armand gives him a smirk as he easily sinks on top of him, taking him inside. Daniel grunts as he has to grip the bedsheets for stability. He then shoots his arm out and holds onto Armand’s knee as he bounces on him, moving slowly at first and then picking up the pace. He was deliciously tight and wrapped around his cock like he was always meant to be there. It was truly amazing how well they slotted into one another, a missing piece to each other’s puzzle.
Daniel’s orgasm grows incredibly and embarrassingly quickly. It didn’t take much for him to come nowadays. He’d used to be able to edge himself for days on end, but not now; he doesn’t have the time for all of that.
“Yes— you’re doing so well, Armand. Fuck, you take my cock like you were meant for it.” Armand just whines as his eyes lose a little, chest heaving as he chases his lust now. Daniel takes his neglected cock into his hand, he’s already dripping wet. So fucking good for him. He strokes him swiftly as he suddenly feels bad for the neighbors beneath him, but not all that much to be honest. The bed was rocking and hitting the wall like clockwork, but he didn’t care. All that matters is making Armand feel good, he wants to watch him come from his cock like he needs oxygen to breathe.
“You’re miles better than that boy, so damn perfect. I barely even remember him, but I could never forget an angel like you.” Armand looks at him, breathless for a moment, his eyes completely dark.
“Yeah?” Armand asks riding him in such a rhythmic motion that his cock stiffens even.
“Yeah—I’m gonna come soon, baby.” Daniel groans out, gripping his hips as he helps push down even further. Armand hums in approval as he leans down to trap Daniel in a kiss as he fucks him to fulfillment. His brain whites out as he feels Armand spill across his abdomen. Strands of black hair are stuck to his forehead, and all Daniel wants is more and more. His body shakes a little during the afterglow, and he extends his reach and pulls him into an embrace, Armand collapsing onto the corner of his chest.
They kiss lazily for a while, as Armand peppers little love bites across his jaw and collarbone. “What are you, some kind of feral cat?” Daniel jokes, body melting into the other. He feels so content, like this could be the norm. Daniel would do anything to make this moment last a little longer. Armand then lifts his hand behind the pillow and picks up the plush dog.
“And you’re a lovesick puppy.” The young man widely smiles, beaming with joy as he places the stuffed animal between them. The statement causes Daniel’s heart to race. But he masks his true emotion by playfully rolling his eyes.
“Are you going to get a collar for me next?” Daniel jokes, turning his neck so he’s looking up at the other.
“That can be arranged, if that’s something you’d like to explore,” Armand says, thus far too casually. The old journalist just slowly blinks up at him. Armand gives the dog a tender kiss on the top of his furry head. Blush spreads across his heated pink face. He then rolls over on top of Armand and pushes him further into the mattress. The sheets would desperately need to be cleaned tomorrow, but Daniel didn’t need to worry about that now. He had the most beautiful being in his bed, and he didn’t want to waste a second of it. Daniel caresses his face as he then collapses onto Armand. That time, he felt surprisingly firm. Armand didn’t make a sound as he kissed Daniel’s forehead. He thought he heard faint sniffling, but sleep was already grabbing hold of him.
“Goodnight, my beautiful boy.”
Daniel just weakly grins as soft, delicate fingers play with his hair. He drifts off to sleep, wrapped in Armand’s loving embrace. An embrace that strikes him with passionate affection and warmth. He knows Armand isn’t just some random stranger he just happened to meet at a bookstore cafe. The universe wasn’t this kind to him; it never was. But then, who could he be? Maybe they did meet in a past life.
A life where Daniel didn’t conform to society's expectations, and married and had kids because he felt like he had to. As he sleeps in Armand’s arms, he wonders how differently his life might be if he had found someone like him instead. Someone who truly saw him for the person he was, inside and out. They didn’t abandon him or run away; they stayed and chose Daniel because they loved him. But that was too much of a fantasy that even in his wildest dreams he couldn’t entirely believe.
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Daniel’s nostrils burn as cocaine fills his system. He’s transported back to Louis’ apartment in the 70s. Piercing pain blooming in his neck as his blood spills down his chest. A sudden force, ancient and powerful, stops the other vampire. His face is skewed, but Daniel feels his heart pulling towards the stranger. Blue skies appear around him, and now he’s back at a mysterious villa. The ocean is turning red as Daniel runs along the shore. He calls out a name, a name that’s painful to say. Daniel awakens in a limo, big orange eyes staring into him. The eyes are crying blood. A flash of white, his lungs stretching and burning like fire. His mind awasthen empty, like it had been wiped clean.
“Armand—“ The old journalist croaks out, throat dry and scratchy as he wakes up. Daniel’s forehead is pouring with sweat. He grumbles out loud, and he feels something in his arms. He looks down and sees the plush dog tucked between his arms like someone out of there. His eyes blink rapidly, and he reaches over by the bedside table for his glasses. He puts them on and notices the space beside him is empty. The covers are pulled back, and his heart sinks a little. He clutches the dog once he hears something stirring in his kitchen.
His ears perk up, and he looks around for something decent to wear before he saunters into his living room. The sight before him makes him halt in his steps.
Armand is still very much shirtless making Daniel coffee and what seems to be oatmeal and an assortment of nuts and fruit. Usually Daniel just settled for toast or eggs. He’s wearing the other’s grey sweatpants, not leaving much to the imagination. The young man turns and gives Daniel that heart warming smile.
“Good morning, I made you breakfast.”
“I can see that.” Daniel grins at him, slowly walking up towards Armand. The old journalist, there’s only enough food for one person.
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I made an assortment of healthy foods.” The young man beams, pecs flexing a little that completely interrupts Daniel’s line of thinking.
“Wow, that was so thoughtful of you. You didn’t need to do all of this.” He says, a little breathless, as Armand grabs the plate. The young man turns and gives Daniel a chaste kiss on the cheek.
“Mm, but I wanted to.” He walks over to the dining table and sets the food down. Daniel only continues to stare blankly like he’s some miracle sent from god or something. “How come you aren’t eating?” The old journalist asks, finally taking his seat as his gaze flickers between the beautiful man and the amazing-looking food.
“I’m not much of a breakfast person.”
Daniel picks up his class of water as he takes a long-needed sip. “That’s a shame, let me at least buy you dinner sometime. I’m a horrible cook.” Armand smiles and then takes a seat beside him, watching him eat like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I doubt that, you’re plenty capable.” Daniel only lowly chuckles, the poor guy. If he had any idea, he almost burned a pizza and his entire apartment in his twenties because he left the stove on for too long. Plus, Alice never let him help or prepare anything for Thanksgiving or Christmas. It was a clear sign, and he never fought against it. Daniel was meant to be a great writer, and that was mainly about it.
Armand is gazing up at him, head in his hands, as his lashes flutter. Daniel can barely focus on his food when Armand fixates on him that way.
“Why do you look at me like that?” Daniel bluntly asks, still chewing his food.
“Like what?” The young man innocently says, but both of them know that isn’t true.
“Like you want to devour me whole.” He half jokes, but he means it. Armand has this ever-present intensity to him, even if he didn’t purposefully mean it.
“Maybe I do.” Armand says, his voice husky as he takes his foot and runs it up Daniel’s leg. His body shudders, not in pleasure but like he’s getting déjà vu.
“Well, I don’t know if I can go again just yet, but I’d happily go down on you.” Armand’s eyes brighten at this suggestion, those sharp white teeth flashing up at him.
After Daniel finishes his meal, he takes a shower. He offers for Armand to join him, but he has already taken one this morning. Daniel thoroughly brushes his teeth. Armand is already waiting for him naked on the bed once the other returns. He gives Armand a head like he so desperately wanted the night before. His taste was euphoric, almost intoxicating. Armand’s hips shudder as he bucks into his mouth so deep it punches Daniel’s gag reflex. However, he doesn’t care as tears stream down his face as Armand comes deep into his hungry mouth. The young man pulls him by his hair into a messy kiss that has Daniel half hard all over again.
The rest of the evening, they spend either watching old movies or cuddling on the couch. Daniel loves listening to Armand ramble about old cinema and his favorite film, which is Blade Runner. He finds his hand underneath the blanket and holds tightly onto it tightly.
They stay curled together under the blanket for hours, legs tangled, breath syncing. But the way Armand holds his hand, like it’s something precious, makes Daniel wonder if maybe… maybe it’s not all in his head.
Later, Armand gets a phone call and has some errands to run. Daniel watches him collect his coat as he gives him a longing stare from the door. The old journalist approaches him scanning him up and down.
“I had a really good time last night, will I see you again soon?” He asks, wide eyed and voice slightly husky. Armand gives him a tender hearted expression but a deeper sorrow lingers. He takes his hand and cups Daniel’s face, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on his lips. All of Daniel’s breath leaves him.
“I find it hard keeping myself away from you.” Armand says, pupils widening.
“Well, the feeling is mutual.” The old journalist grins. They stare into one another’s eyes and Daniel feels himself leaning in but Armand turns and leaves his apartment. Daniel walks forward and sees Armand saunter down the hallway and turn down the corner towards the elevator. He shuts the door and locks it. He’s alone once again, his body lets out an exhale.
Daniel then moves to tidy up. The apartment is still and quiet, lit only by the flickering blue light from the television. As he goes to drape the blanket over the back of the couch, he hears something clatter softly to the floor. He bends down slowly, knees creaking and sees a small chain glinting against the hardwood.
He picks it up and examines the object. It appears to be a necklace of some sort, possibly an old looking amulet. The silver is aged and delicate, with a tiny glass vial hanging from its center. Inside is something dark red, dried and unmoving, but unmistakably once alive. Daniel frowns.
The metal is warm in his palm, like it remembers him. Like he should remember it. His heart begins to pound. He doesn’t know why.
He takes it over to the lamp and studies it more closely. It feels familiar. Not just familiar but personal. Like something from a life he can almost see but not quite reach. His fingers close around it.
He stands there for a long time, bathed in the soft golden light, staring at the strange, beautiful thing now resting in his hand and the deeper strangeness curling somewhere in his chest. The vial pushing a memory from the surface, one that feels like it’s been repelled. A shape of a memory, a metal necklace placed around his neck with a kiss.
Daniel didn’t know what it all meant but his head was pounding. Images flash in his mind, but he still can’t make any sense of it all. His hands begin to shake as a tear escapes his eye, dropping down onto the amulet.
He’s so close to the truth he knows he is, after years as an investigative journalist he has a six sense for these kinds of things.
Daniel decides to open the vial. It’s hard to open at first but he eventually gets it. He looks more critically at the liquid and he smells inside. It’s strong and pungent. The old journalist takes the tip of his tongue and lets the substance spread across. Suddenly, every cell and atom burst inside his veins as the coppery sensation fills his senses.
It’s blood. Blood from a source that has saved his life several times, blood that wasn’t his own but belonged to him all the same. Daniel collapses onto the couch. The dreams, the visions, the intense emotions. It all came and hit him like a truck.
Daniel collapses onto the couch, the vial slipping from his fingers and rolling soundlessly across the floor.
His breath comes in sharp bursts. Every nerve ending feels like it’s been struck by lightning. His fingers tremble, not from the Parkinson’s this time, but from something deeper. Memory crashes down on him like a tidal wave, drenching him in sensations he forgot he ever knew.
He sees a bedroom by the sea. Enjoined laughter and lingering touches. The waterfall cascading over bronze skin. Fingers in his hair. A kiss like eternity. A name whispered through tears.
Armand.
His heart stutters. It isn’t just a name anymore, it’s an entire life. A love so fierce and desperate it had to be buried to survive. Daniel clutches the fabric of the couch, grounding himself, but the memories won’t stop now. Faces, places, and touches. All of it comes roaring back, fragmented and brilliant and real.
Tears slide down his cheeks. He lets them. No one’s there to see him fall apart. His hand drifts unconsciously over his heart. Not from fear, but from recognition. That same pull beneath his ribs. That same impossible gravity. He thought he was just falling for someone new. But he was falling all over again.
And this time, he knew the cause of the deep ache growing inside of him. He was in love with the vampire Armand.