Chapter Text
Daniel slept heavy, tangled in the sheets, his breath deep and even. Sunlight pressed pale through the shutters, and the sound of the sea rolled steady, lulling. It was past ten when the mattress dipped under a familiar weight.
“Love,” Armand murmured, voice pitched low, coaxing. His cool hand brushed a curl from Daniel’s forehead. “It’s late.”
Daniel groaned, rolling onto his side with a muttered curse. “Too early.”
Armand’s lips curved faintly, though his concern was plain. He touched Daniel’s brow again, the back of his hand cool against warm skin, lingering a moment longer than necessary. Daniel blinked up at him blearily, catching the look.
“What?”
“I thought you might have a fever,” Armand said simply. “You don’t.” His hand drifted away, slow, almost reluctant.
Daniel huffed a tired laugh, eyes closing again. “I’m just old. That’s all.”
Armand shook his head, leaning down to brush a kiss against his temple. “No. Just tired. Rest if you need, but don’t hide behind excuses. You’re fine.”
Daniel cracked one eye open, trying for a smirk. “Doctor Armand, huh? What’s your prescription?”
“Coffee,” Armand said, deadpan, though his thumb still stroked gently along Daniel’s temple. “And pastries. Always pastries.”
Daniel gave a half-snort, half-sigh, tugging the sheet higher over his chest. “You’re bribing me out of bed with sugar.”
Armand’s mouth curved just a fraction more, but his gaze stayed steady. “If it works, it works.” He shifted, propping an elbow beside Daniel, his presence close but careful. “They brought guava tarts again this morning. I saved them for you.”
That coaxed Daniel’s other eye open, just barely. “Guava tarts, huh?”
“Yes.” Armand smoothed a hand through his curls, slow, deliberate, coaxing as much as soothing. “But only if you get up.”
Daniel groaned, pressing his face briefly into the pillow. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Armand lingered a beat longer, his hand still resting lightly in Daniel’s curls. “Do you want me to bring it here instead?”
Daniel cracked a tired grin against the pillow. “Breakfast in bed? Careful, I’ll start expecting it every day.”
“It may be a good idea,” Armand murmured. He brushed a final kiss to Daniel’s hair before rising. “Ten minutes. Then I’m coming back with coffee and breakfast, whether you’re dressed or still wrapped in sheets.”
Daniel made a low noise of protest, though the corner of his mouth tugged higher. “You’re bossy for a doctor, I'll get up to eat.”
Armand glanced back from the doorway, expression unreadable save for the faintest glimmer of affection. “I’m the only doctor who prescribes guava tarts. Remember that.”
Left alone, Daniel stretched under the sheets, bones heavy with sleep but heart a little lighter. Ten minutes, he thought. He could manage ten minutes.
Daniel groaned again, but this time he rolled onto his back, rubbing at his eyes. The faint hum of the ocean beyond the shutters made it harder to resist the pull of staying cocooned in bed, but the thought of coffee was enough to push him upright.
By the time he shuffled into the main room, hair tousled and t-shirt clinging at the collar, Armand was already waiting at the veranda table. A silver tray gleamed between them, steam curling from the coffee pot, and a plate of guava tarts sat perfectly centered like an offering.
“You’re late,” Armand said mildly, though the faint arch of his brow betrayed the tease. He was already pouring coffee into Daniel’s cup, the movements precise, controlled.
Daniel slumped into the chair opposite him, grabbing the cup before Armand could push it closer. “You’re lucky I got out of bed at all.”
“Guava tarts,” Armand reminded, nudging the plate toward him.
Daniel picked one up and bit in with a hum that bordered on indecent. “Okay, fine. Maybe worth it.”
Armand leaned back slightly, watching him with that steady, unreadable gaze. The sea breeze stirred the linen of his shirt, the morning light catching the sharp planes of his face. For a moment, he didn’t speak, he sat there, as though the sight of Daniel eating pastries was enough.
“What?” Daniel asked around another bite, suspicion flickering through his tone.
Armand’s mouth curved the faintest bit. “You. That’s all I wanted.”
Daniel set the half-eaten tart back on the plate, suddenly too restless to finish it. He wiped his fingers on a napkin, then leaned back in his chair, staring out at the water like he was bracing himself against the horizon.
“I’m ready,” he said finally, voice low but firm.
Armand’s gaze didn’t waver. “For what?”
Daniel turned his head then, meeting his eyes. His chest tightened, but he forced the words out anyway. “To turn. I’m certain. No more back and forth. No more thinking about dying an even older man and leaving you alone.”
Armand’s thumb traced a slow arc across Daniel’s knuckles, his gaze unwavering. “You still have time,” he said softly. “Before it truly happens, I will ask again. And again, if I must. I will not take you without hearing it from your mouth when the moment comes.”
“I’m sure. I want this.”
Armand’s eyes searched his face, dark and intent. “Sooner or later, it will be done. But the season matters.” His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “Now. This winter will be best- when the nights are long. You’ll have more hours to be awake, to hunt, to learn what it feels like without the sun pressing against you. You will be very sleepy near dawn and impossible to keep awake during the day. We are designed that way.”
“It’s already January.”
Armand inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the truth in Daniel’s words. “Yes,” he said, voice low, thoughtful. “The heart of winter. The nights are longest now. If you mean what you say, if you are certain, then these next weeks could be the time.” His thumb pressed gently against Daniel’s hand, grounding, his gaze never leaving his face.
Daniel’s stomach flipped, equal parts nerves and something that felt frighteningly like relief. “You’re saying soon. Really soon.”
Armand’s mouth curved faintly, not quite a smile. “I am saying we prepare. We do it carefully, not in haste. But yes, beloved- soon. If you want it. If you still want it when the nights begin to shorten, we may have to wait until the next winter.”
Daniel blinked, the weight of the timeline settling on him, heavy and electric at once. “So… it’s either weeks from now or a year from now?”
“We’ve waited quite some time already. It could be when we first get back or later, maybe March?”
Daniel exhaled, the tension in his shoulders loosening a fraction. “So it’s flexible,” he said. “We pick a time that works for both of us.”
“Exactly.” Armand’s thumb rubbed the back of Daniel’s hand in a slow circle. “We prepare. We practice. We make the legal things tidy first- post-nup, wills, the deed transfer- so you never worry about logistics again. And when the moment comes, I will ask you aloud. I will not take you without your clear, final consent. If you give it, we will proceed.”
“I want to just feed from you.”
“No, you won’t be able to, not at first,” Armand said, voice low and careful. “You’ll be too hungry the moment you change. The first feeds are about taking in as much blood as you can. I’ll teach you to steady yourself, to hunt slowly. We’ll practice the mechanics- how to hold, where to bite, how to drink without losing yourself.”
Daniel nodded softly.
“Tonight,” Armand said, changing the subject, “I want to take you out. Away from these walls, away from the questions and worries.”
Daniel blinked at him. “Out?”
“Yes.” Armand’s lips curved faintly. “Dinner, a walk, noise and lights, people brushing past you. I want you out in the world, not only tucked away here with me.” His voice dropped, warm but insistent. “You need air, beloved. You need more than just me and the sea.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-suspicious. “This isn’t some scheme to make me practice hunting early, is it?”
Armand shook his head once, calm and deliberate. “No. Just to remind you that the world is still yours. Before it changes, before we prepare… I want you to see it, feel it. And I want to be there with you.”
Daniel let out a slow breath, uncertain but softening. “Out on the town, huh. Like a date.”
“Exactly like a date,” Armand said, and this time the smile reached his eyes. “We’ll wait for sunset,” he said, each word deliberate. “Then we’ll eat. After that…” his mouth curved, just the faintest edge of promise in it, “we’ll see where the night takes us.”
Daniel leaned back in his chair, letting the idea of the night ahead linger, though his lips twitched into something wry. “All right. But before any of that, I’m going to swim.”
Armand’s brow tilted, the warning already in his eyes before he spoke. “Not too long, beloved. And not too hard.” His voice was quiet but threaded with that firm note of care. “If we’re out late, you’ll need your strength.”
*****
The sky was awash in color, deep oranges melting into violet, the horizon catching fire as the sun began to sink. Daniel slowed his steps until he stopped altogether, the waves washing cool over his ankles. He tipped his head back, staring hard at the fading light, as though trying to memorize every shade.
“God,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost breaking. “It’s so beautiful.” His chest tightened, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I won’t get to see many more of these, will I?”
Armand turned sharply toward him, the glow of the sunset reflected in his eyes, but his focus never wavered from Daniel’s face.
Daniel gave a shaky laugh, scrubbing at his curls. “I mean, I’ve seen thousands of them already, I guess. But standing here, knowing they’ll be numbered now… every one feels like it matters more. Like I should be burning it into my memory.”
Armand’s hand closed around his, firm and grounding. “Then burn it in,” he murmured, stepping closer until their shoulders brushed. “Take every line, every color, every sound. I’ll stand here with you until the last light fades.”
Daniel blinked against the blur gathering in his eyes, letting the horizon blur, letting the ache sit heavy in his chest. “Don’t let me forget this,” he said softly.
Armand lifted his hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Never.”
They stayed where they were until the sun sank fully into the sea, the last gold burning down into violet, then into the hush of indigo. Daniel didn’t move, his hand tightening faintly in Armand’s as the light slipped away. The tears came quiet, unbidden, a few at first, then enough to blur the line of the horizon until it was all color and ache.
Armand’s arm came around him without hesitation, steady and sure, pulling him close against the cool press of his chest. He didn’t hush him, didn’t tell him not to cry- he only held him tighter, his cheek resting against Daniel’s curls, his thumb stroking slowly across the back of his hand.
Daniel gave a low, uneven laugh between breaths. “I’m crying over the damn sun. How pathetic is that?”
“Not pathetic,” Armand murmured, his voice deep and even, grounding him. “You’re saying goodbye. That deserves tears.”
Daniel leaned harder into him, trying to quiet his breaths, but the ache refused to loosen. “It’s so final,” he whispered, as if the sea might overhear. “Knowing there’s only so many left.”
Armand’s lips brushed the crown of his head, soft and lingering. “Then we’ll count them together,” he said gently. “Every one you have left, I’ll stand with you for it. And when the last comes… I’ll give you nights more beautiful than any sunset.”
Daniel let out another shaky breath, his eyes stinging as he pressed his face into Armand’s shoulder. He didn’t answer, not in words, but his grip on Armand’s hand tightened.
They stayed on the beach until the first stars winked through the deepening blue, Daniel quieter now, but his hand still laced tightly with Armand’s. When the evening breeze cooled, Armand guided him gently up the path, away from the sand and into the glow of town.
The restaurant waited at the edge of the waterfront, strung with warm lanterns and fairy lights that swayed gently in the night air. Tables spilled onto a wide terrace, each set with candles flickering in glass holders, their flames dancing against the polished wood. The scent of grilled fish and garlic butter carried on the breeze, mingling with salt and jasmine. A small trio played softly in the corner.
They were seated at a table near the railing, overlooking the sea, the waves breaking softly against the rocks just below. The candlelight painted Daniel’s face in warm tones, softening the lines the sunset had left in his expression. He leaned back in his chair, still raw from the beach but steadier now.
Armand didn’t press him with words. He reached across the table, covering Daniel’s hand with his own, grounding as always. When Daniel’s gaze caught his, the faintest smile touched Armand’s mouth.
“You always manage this,” Daniel murmured, voice low. “You take the heaviest moments and make them… lighter. Manageable.”
Armand’s thumb stroked once across his knuckles, his gaze dark but intent. “That is my duty. And my choice.”
The waiter brought plates- fresh seafood, still steaming, vegetables tossed with herbs, a basket of bread fragrant with rosemary. Daniel smiled faintly at the sight, a little choked laugh slipping out. “You’re going to have me so spoiled I’ll never want to leave Aruba.”
“Then I’ll keep you here forever,” Armand said, so matter-of-fact that Daniel had to look up, half-suspecting a joke. But the dark eyes were steady, not teasing, though softened with something gentler than he could name.
The music swelled, the singer’s voice low and rich, and for the first time since the sunset, Daniel let himself relax fully. He picked up his fork, let the candlelight and the music and the cool salt air settle around him, and thought- if this is my last season of sunsets, at least I have this tonight.
Eventually, plates cleared, the waiter returned with dessert, a slice of rich chocolate cake, a small pavlova, and something citrusy and cool in a glass dish. Daniel laughed under his breath, shaking his head as the table filled again.
“You’d think they knew I had a sweet tooth,” he said, though the way his fork immediately slid into the cake betrayed no protest.
Armand’s mouth curved faintly, watching him with that steady, unreadable calm. “They do. I called ahead,” he said simply.
When Daniel finally pushed his plate back, Armand brushed a napkin across his lips and rose, extending his hand. “Come. The night isn’t finished.”
“Where are we going?” Daniel asked, wiping his fingers before letting Armand pull him up.
“You’ll see.”
The streets were alive with music and voices, the warm pulse of nightlife drifting from open doors and balconies. Armand led him a few blocks inland to a narrow stairwell lit with golden sconces. Inside, the low hum of conversation gave way to the rich tones of a piano, deep and resonant, weaving through smoke and candlelight.
The piano bar was small, intimate- wood paneling, shelves lined with bottles glowing amber, velvet seats gathered close to the instrument that anchored the room. A man at the keys played something sultry and aching, and the crowd listened with that rare hush that falls when music is enough on its own.
Armand guided Daniel to a table near the piano, pulling out a chair with that same deliberate grace. “I thought you might like this better than noise and shouting.”
Daniel looked around, something soft tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. This feels… right.” He settled into the chair, the candle flickering between them, the piano filling the space between words.
The night stretched warm and slow, the piano weaving through one aching ballad after another. Daniel nursed his drink, the mellow burn doing just enough to loosen the tight places in his chest. Across the table, Armand sat with that infuriating poise, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass, gaze fixed on Daniel as if the whole world had been stripped away to just this room.
After a while, Daniel’s attention snagged on the dance floor. A couple had risen from their table- two men, laughing softly as they found the rhythm, their hands fitting together with an ease that was almost ordinary. A moment later, another couple joined, swaying close, eyes only for each other.
Daniel’s throat tightened. Ordinary. That was the word. Something he’d always told himself he couldn’t have, and here it was- right in front of him. He turned to find Armand watching too, unreadable.
Without thinking, Daniel muttered, “We could, you know. No one here gives a damn. Like back home.”
Armand’s mouth curved, slow and deliberate, but his eyes never left Daniel’s. He rose with that impossible grace and extended his hand across the table. “Then come.”
Daniel’s heart skipped, his fingers trembling just a little as he set his glass aside and let Armand pull him up. The piano shifted into something softer, low and pulsing, and Armand guided him easily into the sway of it.
They stood close- too close for Daniel’s nerves, not nearly close enough for what his body wanted- hands finding each other, shoulders angling together. Armand’s palm slid to Daniel’s back, anchoring him in place, and Daniel felt the steady pressure of him, cool and certain, guiding without smothering.
For a moment, Daniel couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the quiet shock of we’re doing this, we’re dancing, out in the open, not in the safety of back home where no one batted an eye. But then he caught Armand’s gaze- dark, steady, entirely his- and the tension bled out, leaving only the rhythm between them.
He let his head tip forward until his forehead brushed Armand’s temple, whispering into the dim space between them. “I love you.”
Armand’s hand pressed firmer at his back, his voice low, meant only for Daniel. “I love you, too.”
*****
The ride home passed in a quiet hum, both of them wrapped in the warmth of the night
When they reached the house, Armand moved ahead of him, flicking switches as he went. One by one, the veranda lanterns sparked to life, casting golden pools that bled into the darkness and met the silver wash of moonlight. The ocean below glittered in reply, restless and inviting.
Daniel didn’t bother with finesse. He kicked off his shoes, shrugged out of his shirt, and tugged the rest of his clothes free in quick, clumsy movements until he stood in nothing but his boxers. His laughter rang out, reckless, as he bolted down the steps toward the beach. “Come on!” he called over his shoulder, already wading into the surf. The cool rush of water lapped his thighs, then his chest, a shock against the warmth still buzzing through him from the drinks and the dance.
He floated there a moment, chest heaving, head tipped back to the stars. He didn’t swim out far- just enough to feel held by the tide, free but not lost.
Behind him, he heard the quiet thud of fabric hitting the sand. He turned just in time to see Armand step out of his clothes with unhurried grace, his deep skin gleaming beneath the moonlight. No hesitation, no ceremony.
The water broke around him as Armand entered, each ripple sliding outward to meet Daniel.
Daniel grinned, breathless, and splashed a handful of seawater in his direction. “You took your damn time.”
Armand’s expression was unreadable in the moonlight, but his voice carried over the waves, low and certain. “I always follow where you lead.”
The waves rocked them gently, cool saltwater curling around their shoulders. Daniel floated backward a few strokes, watching the moonlight halo off Armand’s skin. He laughed again, freer now, the sound carrying out over the water.
“You look like you belong out here,” Daniel said, treading lazily, droplets sliding down his curls. “Like you were carved out of the moon itself.”
Armand moved closer, the sea parting easily around him, until he was within arm’s reach. His hand came up to brush a slick strand of hair from Daniel’s forehead, thumb lingering just a moment too long. “No,” he murmured. “I belong here because you are here.”
The tide surged around them, pushing them gently closer until Daniel’s chest brushed against Armand’s. He didn’t pull back. He couldn’t. The moon hung high above, the world was nothing but water and light, and for once, Daniel let himself lean into it, resting his forehead briefly against Armand’s.
His chest brushed Armand’s with every gentle surge of the tide. He lingered there, not kissing, not speaking- just tilting his face toward Armand’s, lips parted as though waiting. His hand slipped up, fingertips tracing Armand’s shoulder, then curling lightly at the back of his neck.
Armand didn’t move. His eyes followed every gesture, steady and dark, but he remained maddeningly still, letting the touches gather without answering them.
Daniel tried again, nudging his forehead against Armand’s, brushing his nose along his cheek, even ghosting his lips close enough to feel the coolness of his breath. Still, Armand held his ground.
Finally, Daniel let out a frustrated sound, the kind that came from deep in his chest, splashing faintly as his hands slid down Armand’s arms in exasperation. His curls stuck to his forehead, his mouth set in a stubborn line.
Armand’s composure cracked just slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging upward as a soft chuckle slipped free. The sound was low, rich, and maddeningly amused.
“What is it you want, beloved?” he asked, voice smooth, almost teasing. His hands stayed at his sides, his stillness deliberate, as if daring Daniel to say it out loud.
Daniel huffed, shoulders rising with the tide, his eyes narrowing. “You know damn well what I want,” he muttered, but the words lacked venom. His lips were already parting, his body leaning in, unable to resist the pull.
Armand tilted his head, dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “I want to hear you say it.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened, his pout deepening until it tipped into something bratty and sharp. He pulled back just enough to glare at Armand, water glistening down his chest.
“Fine,” he muttered, voice pitched low with mock indignation. “Maybe I’ll just find myself a husband who actually kisses me when I want. Someone who doesn’t make me beg in the middle of the damn ocean.”
Armand’s brows lifted, slow, deliberate.
But Daniel wasn’t finished. He drifted even closer, chest pressing against Armand’s again, and tipped his chin up with a sharp, bratty little smirk. “What’s wrong? Afraid my new husband might be a better kisser than you?”
The water broke in a sharp splash as Armand finally moved, an arm sweeping firm around Daniel’s waist. In one seamless motion he turned, pulling Daniel with him, guiding him toward the shallows with a strength that allowed no argument.
Daniel sputtered, half laughing, half startled, the tide dragging around their bodies as Armand carried him more than led him out of the sea. The cool night air kissed his skin the moment they broke free of the water’s embrace, but it was nothing compared to the press of Armand’s hold.
“All right, all right!” Daniel gasped, his smirk faltering into something breathless as his feet stumbled against the sand. He twisted in Armand’s grip just enough to look up at him, eyes wide with something closer to awe than defiance. “I’ll be good... I’ll behave. I’m sorry.”
When Armand looked down, Daniel’s lips curved, the apology dissolving into a smirk that gave him away. Mischief still lingered in his eyes, even as water slicked down his chest in rivulets.
Armand’s answering look was unreadable, dark and unwavering, but he didn’t release him. If anything, his arm tightened, holding Daniel close as he guided him up the sand, across the veranda, and toward the soft glow spilling from the bedroom beyond.
“You think this is amusing?” Armand murmured, low and controlled.
Daniel only let his smirk sharpen, letting himself be carried along, bare feet dragging slightly as though daring Armand to tighten his grip.
Armand didn’t stop until the doorway framed them in shadow and lamplight, until the salt air gave way to the warmer hush of the bedroom. Only then did he pause, turning Daniel in his arms, his gaze heavy with intent.
With one smooth motion, he steered him until the backs of Daniel’s knees touched the edge of the bed.
Daniel’s grin faltered just enough to betray a shiver of anticipation. His chest rose quick under Armand’s steady gaze, his hands twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to push or cling.
“Lie down,” Armand said at last, quiet but threaded with that unshakable authority that left no room for argument.
Daniel sank back onto the sheets, curls damp against the pillows, saltwater still clinging to his skin, boxers still wet from the sea. He tried to summon the smirk again, but it softened at the edges, shifting into something closer to hunger than defiance.
Armand leaned over him, braced on one arm, the other hand skimming down the center of his chest, slow and claiming. “Good,” he murmured, his voice dark. “You’re behaving.”
“Maybe, maybe not. You started this by not kissing me. Who doesn’t kiss their husband when they are pressed against them floating in a romantic setting on their honeymoon?”
Armand’s hand lingered at the center of his chest, pressing just firmly enough to remind Daniel of the weight behind it. His gaze narrowed, steady as the tide, though a faint gleam of amusement tugged at the edge of his restraint.
“Careful,” he murmured, the word quiet but edged. “You provoke me as though you don’t already know the answer.” His thumb brushed slowly over Daniel’s sternum, almost tender, at odds with the gravity in his tone.
Daniel’s lips twitched, caught between smirk and pout. “I just think a husband should kiss his husband when he’s begging for it,” he said, voice lower now, less bratty but no less challenging. “Or else what’s the point?”
Armand bent closer, until Daniel could feel the cool press of his breath against his cheek, his mouth hovering maddeningly close. “The point,” he whispered, “is that when I kiss you, it’s because I choose the moment. Not because you demand it.”
Daniel swallowed hard, chest tight, but he refused to look away. “Then choose it.”
Armand didn’t move at first. His lips hovered a breath away, close enough that Daniel could taste the salt and coolness of the sea still clinging to him, close enough to drive him mad.
Daniel’s hands twitched against the sheets, wanting to reach, to pull, but he forced himself to stay still, to hold Armand’s gaze. His chest rose and fell unevenly, the smirk gone now, replaced by something rawer- need edged with frustration.
“Baby, please…” His voice cracked, almost a plea.
That was what broke the stalemate. Armand closed the last inch with deliberate slowness, his mouth pressing to Daniel’s in a kiss that wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate- it was claiming. Firm, deep, unshakable, as if to remind Daniel that when he gave in, it was because he wanted to, not because he’d been cornered into it.
Daniel exhaled hard against his lips, his body loosening under the weight of it, surrendering as much as answering. His hands slid up at last, catching at Armand’s shoulders, not dragging, only holding.
When Armand finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against Daniel’s, voice low, a warning wrapped in tenderness. “There. But don’t forget, beloved- when I kiss you, it’s always because I mean it. Never because you pout for it.”
Daniel’s laugh came out shaky, caught somewhere between breathless relief and the remnants of his defiance. “Then maybe I’ll just keep pouting until you mean it more often,” he murmured, eyes still locked on Armand’s.
“You tempt me every time you do this. And one day, when I decide you’ve pushed far enough, there will be no reprieve.”
Daniel wanted to quip back, to sharpen the edge of his bravado, but the truth sat heavy in his chest: he liked it. Needed it.
He tipped his head just enough to brush his mouth over Armand’s again, brief but deliberate, before sinking back into the sheets. “Then maybe I want that,” he whispered, softer now, more honest than bratty.
“Do you want to play?”
Daniel paused, “A little.”
Armand’s smile was small, dangerous in its restraint, the kind that made Daniel’s stomach flip. His thumb stroked once along Daniel’s lower lip, a feather-light touch that lingered as though he was weighing just how far to take him.
“A little,” Armand repeated, savoring the words.
Daniel’s breath hitched, anticipation winding tight in his chest. He shifted under Armand’s weight, curls damp against the pillow, watching him with wide, expectant eyes.
Armand leaned down, his lips grazing Daniel’s jaw, then his throat, leaving the faintest scrape of teeth but never the bite Daniel craved. His hand pressed lightly at Daniel’s chest, holding him steady against the sheets.
“I’m going to taste of your blood,” Armand murmured, his lips ghosting the words against sensitive skin. “And then we are going to play Four Minutes or Less… a game you originated in Italy. Remember?”
Daniel’s breath came out sharp, a flash of heat sparking at the memory. His eyes flickered, wide and a little wild, caught between disbelief and the rush of being reminded of something only Armand could hold for him.
Armand’s gaze sharpened, but not unkindly; he drank in every flicker of Daniel’s expression, the nerves, the want, the fear. “You do remember,” he murmured, voice low, steady as iron. “Good.”
Armand didn’t let him hide. He leaned closer, his mouth hovering just above Daniel’s, “Do you consent, beloved? Blood and play?”
Daniel blinked up at him, pulse hammering so hard he knew Armand could hear it. His lips parted, shaky, but the answer came. “Yes.”
Only then did Armand move. He reached for the drawer at the bedside, retrieving the small bottle of lube and squirreling it under the pillow for later.
“I need a taste, a sip to sustain me.”
Armand kissed down his throat, the scrape of teeth finally pressing in, deliberate and certain. Daniel gasped as the sharp pierce came- quick, deep- and the rush of pull that followed left his chest arching, a moan torn out of him before he could hold it back.
The sting gave way to heat, to dizzying sparks that shot straight through him. But along with it came the ache- his own teeth throbbing, jaw clenching with a desperate need to sink down, to taste. It hurt, sharp and relentless, until he was squirming beneath Armand.
“Armand-” His voice cracked, desperate, and he shoved his arm between their bodies, moving his wrist toward his mouth like instinct.
Armand pulled back, lips stained with red, his gaze blazing down at him. “Not your arm,” he murmured, low and firm. His hand caught Daniel’s jaw, guiding him up. “Here. Bite. From my neck.”
Daniel’s eyes flew wide, his pulse pounding as though it might break free of his chest. “I- ”
“You need it,” Armand said, steady, a command wrapped in dark promise. He tilted his head, baring the pale column of his throat. “You’ll be a vampire soon, addiction doesn’t matter. Bite hard. Take.”
Daniel didn’t think. He let out a startled, ragged sound as his teeth sank in- first a shock, then the hot, metallic flood of blood filling his mouth. The taste was more than taste; it was a tether, a fierce, intimate proof that he could give and be given to. For a heartbeat he panicked at the intensity, the way his own jaw throbbed with need, but Armand’s voice steady and low kept him grounded.
“Breathe through your nose,” Armand murmured, fingers braced at Daniel’s shoulders. “Suck gently, or lap, don’t press down.”
Daniel obeyed clumsily, teeth working as he’d been told, mouth filling with the salt-iron warmth. It shot through him like a rocket. Armand hummed, a small, breathy sound of approval.
Daniel pulled harder, drinking greedily, each swallow more frantic than the last. The rush was too much, too good, his jaw aching with the need to keep going, to take more.
“Enough- that’s enough, Daniel.”
Armand’s voice sharpened, his hand sliding up to the back of Daniel’s neck. He pushed gently but firmly, breaking the seal, guiding him back before it went too far.
Daniel felt himself being torn back, lips slipping from Armand’s throat, breath coming in wild, uneven bursts. Before Armand could even speak, Daniel crashed his mouth against his, desperate and rushed, tasting his own blood mingled with Armand’s.
The kiss was raw, messy, almost violent with hunger- not careful, not patient. It was Daniel’s need poured out all at once, a demand and a surrender tangled together.
Armand met it, letting himself be pulled but never losing control, his hands anchoring at Daniel’s hips, holding him still even as he writhed against him. The weight of his mouth deepened the kiss, answering Daniel’s frantic rush with the kind of dark certainty that told him he didn’t have to fight, he already had him.
Daniel broke the kiss only long enough to gasp, dragging air into his lungs before lunging back in, his mouth desperate against Armand’s. His hands were everywhere- fisting in his hair, clawing down his back, tugging at his own waistband, as if sheer chaos could drag them both faster to the edge.
He rocked hard against him, grinding like the friction alone might undo him, teeth catching Armand’s lower lip, then dragging away with a groan. His legs tightened around Armand’s hips, pulling him in close, refusing even the smallest distance.
Every movement was frenzied, graceless, but full of a raw, aching hunger. Daniel kissed too hard, bit too sharp, arched and twisted as if he could climb inside his skin. Anything, everything, just to burn through the storm surging in him.
“Daniel,” Armand murmured against his mouth, steady even as Daniel writhed. His grip stayed strong at Daniel’s waist, grounding him, letting him thrash and claw without ever truly losing the line of control.
Daniel was wild, nearly mindless with need, rocking against Armand like he could tear the urgency out of himself if he just moved harder, faster. His breath came in ragged bursts, broken against Armand’s mouth, his nails scraping down his back with no rhythm, only desperation.
“Easy,” Armand murmured. “I’ve got you. Let me help.”
Daniel gasped, head tipping back, curls damp against his forehead, blood smeared across his mouth, as the world tilted under him. “Ah-” His voice cracked on the edge of panic and want, his body straining against its own hunger.
“Here.” Armand’s hand, now covered in lube, slipped lower, precise and firm, stroking him with a practiced rhythm that matched the press of their bodies together. Each pass was quick, strong enough to pull Daniel higher, higher.
Daniel choked out a cry, clutching at him, trembling under the steady force of it. His body bucked once, twice, and then the storm broke- his climax ripping through him so sharp and fast it left him shaking, almost sobbing against Armand’s shoulder.
Armand held him through it, one hand still working him until the shudders eased, the other cradling the back of his neck. “Breathe,” he whispered, lips brushing damp curls. “It’s all right, beloved. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Daniel jerked against Armand’s guiding hand, a sharp twist of defiance, and broke free. His chest heaved, pupils blown wide, every nerve alight with hunger that wasn’t just blood. He scrambled down Armand’s body, lips finding him in a rush, sucking him into his mouth with a desperation that bordered on wild.
Armand’s head tipped back, a sharp breath slipping past his lips as his fingers closed hard in Daniel’s damp curls, holding him steady. “Beloved- slow,” he warned, voice rough, taut with both restraint and need.
But Daniel didn’t slow. His movements were urgent, messy, every drag of his mouth fueled by the same frenzy that had overtaken him moments before. He wanted all of him, wanted to consume, to prove he could take and give in equal measure.
Armand’s grip held, taut with tension, but he didn’t stop him. Not this time. He let Daniel take what he wanted, let him drive the pace with that fevered hunger, hoping the storm would burn itself out.
Daniel’s rhythm was uncontrolled, every movement charged with desperation, his throat working around him like he needed to prove something more than pleasure. His fingers dug into Armand’s thighs, dragging him closer, demanding without words.
Armand’s breath fractured, a rare sound of loss breaking through his composure. He tipped his head back, letting the pull, the wet heat, wash through him. His hand in Daniel’s hair loosened, stroking now, coaxing rather than restraining. “Yes,” he murmured, low, nearly unrecognizable, “take it- take what you need.”
The frenzy only sharpened at his words, but under it there was a shift- Daniel’s ragged need beginning to find a rhythm.
Armand’s body tightened, his composure shattering as Daniel pushed him past control. The climax tore through him, sudden and hard, his breath spilling out in a fractured groan. But even as release wracked him, Daniel didn’t stop.
He kept moving, wild and relentless, like the chaos had swallowed him whole. Armand’s hand clutched at his curls, a desperate attempt at gentleness while his other hand gripped his shoulder.
“No more,” Armand rasped, his voice breaking with urgency. He tugged harder, pulling him off with a wet, obscene pop that cut through the rush of sound.
Daniel gasped, lips swollen, eyes wide and blazing, his chest heaving like he’d run miles. His whole body shook with leftover hunger.
Armand cupped his face, forcing his gaze to steady. “You’ve had too much blood,” he said firmly, his voice both stern and soothing. “That’s why you can’t stop.”
Daniel blinked rapidly, confusion and raw want tangled in his expression. His hands flexed restlessly against Armand’s chest, as if still fighting the pull. “Let me- I want your cock back in my mouth-”
“Daniel, stop. Breathe.”
But Daniel shook his head, curls plastered damp to his temple, his pupils blown wide. His hand slid lower, grabbing at Armand with reckless urgency, his mouth kissing and licking at Armand’s throat like he couldn’t stop. “No- don’t tell me to stop. I want you, I want all of you. Let me have you again.”
“Beloved,” Armand warned, catching his wrists, pressing them against the mattress with careful strength. “You are high on my blood. You are not yourself.”
Daniel twisted beneath him, panting, his body writhing against Armand’s hold. “Not myself? Maybe this is the real me,” he hissed, hips grinding up against him with shameless abandon. “Hard, needy, dripping for you. Isn’t that what you like? You want me begging? Here I am.”
“Bite me again, rip me open and drink until I can’t walk.” His voice was raw, dangerous with hunger. “Or shove your cock down my throat and make me choke on you. I’ll swallow every drop, you know I will.”
Armand’s grip tightened at his wrists, his jaw rigid. “Daniel, shush.”
But Daniel didn’t stop. He hooked a leg high around Armand’s hip, dragging him down, forcing friction between them. “You love this body? Then use it. Fill me until I scream your name loud enough the waves carry it. Fuck me so hard I can’t remember my own.”
His mouth pressed to Armand’s jaw, biting, nipping, frantic. “I’ll be good after. I’ll be your good boy. But right now, I want your cock in me so deep it hurts. I want your blood in my veins and your cum in me at the same time. Fuck me.”
Armand didn’t answer. His silence was iron, his body unmoving except for the steady pressure of his hands pinning Daniel’s wrists to the mattress. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was absolutely inescapable.
Daniel writhed harder, the strength in his limbs sharper now, blood-fed, muscles surging with a power he wasn’t used to. For the first time, he felt the faintest possibility that he could fight Armand off. The thought was wildfire in his chest.
“Damn it, fuck me!” he snarled, hips bucking against Armand’s body, every movement restless, reckless. “If you won’t, I’ll find someone who will. I’ll walk right out that door and give it up to the first bastard who looks at me. At least he won’t make me beg like this!”
Armand’s gaze sharpened, but still he didn’t let go. His weight pressed Daniel into the bed. Daniel thrashed again, frustration twisting his face. And this time he moved Armand a fraction.
Armand’s grip tightened, his voice dropping low and unyielding. “If you push further, I will make you rest.”
Daniel froze, panic flashing through the haze. “No- no, don’t.” His breath came ragged, desperate, and then he blurted it, sharp and cracking in the air: “Red! Red!”
The word hung between them, undeniable.
Armand stilled at once, his gaze locking on Daniel’s, steady, unwavering. His voice softened, but the command remained firm. “Then you must calm yourself. You can’t thrash like this. Your heart is racing too fast. I’ll end up hurting you to keep you still. Breathe.”
When Daniel only shook his head, trembling, Armand moved decisively. He shifted his weight, clamping down, wrapping his body around Daniel like a shield and a restraint all at once. His arms banded tight, his legs caging Daniel’s until there was nowhere left to go, no escape from the weight and steadiness of him.
Daniel fought it at first, struggling against the immovable strength, muscles straining, breath ragged with panic and want. But Armand didn’t flinch, didn’t budge, only held patiently.
The fight bled out of him slowly. His thrashing dulled to twitching, his voice cracked into silence, and finally he sagged back into the bed, chest heaving. His eyes burned, glassy, but the wild edge had broken, leaving exhaustion creeping in its place.
Armand’s lips brushed his temple, a whisper barely more than breath. “Good. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”