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It was week three of the Vampire Lestat's world tour, and renowned reporter and journalist Daniel Molloy was currently snorting coke from the aforementioned rockstar's boner while listening to his chart topping song on the radio.
They could be found on Lestat's tour bus, which had descended into a den of sex and drugs and rock'n'roll somewhere between Berlin and Prague. The windows were barracked with planks and heavy curtains to shield the outside world from the depravity occurring inside the careening vehicle: Animal print quilts thrown all over the place, empty flasks on every flat surface, and groupies lying on the plush king sized bed; some alive, some not quite. The smell of blood and violence permeated through the air like thick smoke. Or maybe that was the incense Christine insisted on keeping around.
Helped with the death smell, she said. Daniel thought it made it worse. More pungent. It was a good thing he had a taste for pungent, deathly things.
Lestat sat on his vanity table in his shirtless glory. He was just as Louis had described him, strong yet slim around the waist, frizzy blonde hair barely kissing his broad shoulders. The rockstar's leather-clad legs spread far apart for Daniel to have space between them, his own ass was sat on the leopard print vanity chair and head bowed onto the older Vampire's lap. Daniel had a rolled up dollar bill to his nose which he had taken out of the ATM for this exact activity, and his other hand pinched his other nostril shut. Lestat had been kind enough to hold his dickhead steady as Daniel bulldozed through the length with a deep snort.
He threw his head back with a hiss, fangs protruding long and bone-white from his gums.
"Jesus christ, it's like snorting fucking flour," hissed Daniel. His voice was nasal because he was pinching his nose bridge shut, trying to stop the particles from traveling further up his nasal canal. To no avail. Blood began to fill his tear ducts. It burned, and not in the way it was meant to.
"I told you," Lestat cooed. He bowed down to lick the red tears from the Fledgling's face. "Human pleasures become null once you're on the Blood. All except one."
Daniel's eyes went to the cock that stood up and proud against the Vampire's lean stomach.
He's got length to him, for sure, and a pretty cockhead but the overall girth was lacking. Daniel ought to call him Lestat De Skinnypeen.
"You will call me no such thing," Lestat groused and flicked one of Daniel's fangs.
He sauntered over to the tacky red velvet loveseat on the far end of the tour bus with the similar movements of a prowling tiger, shoved away the dead guy lying all over it with his platform heeled boot, and promptly collapsed onto one seat. He began to stroke himself at a languid pace, rolling his hips just so. There was no shame in those eyes as he looked at Daniel appraisingly and purred, "Keep up this attitude and I won't let you eat me out this time."
Daniel sighed.
The first week of The World Tour had taught Daniel a lot. It taught him a lot about the process of filming a documentary, which was a world he had never properly stepped foot in before. However the most important thing The World Tour taught him was that Louis had been an absolute angel during his interview, and that Daniel shouldn't have taken him for granted.
Calling Lestat an uncooperative interview subject would be an understatement. Calling Lestat a petty, destructive drama queen with megalomaniac tendencies spanning miles and miles would be a step closer to the truth, but still not an extreme enough description to explain just how many catastrophes his bitchy attitude had caused Daniel and his film crew. But then again Daniel wasn't helping himself, goading the rockstar on as much as he did. Daniel was a vile old man when he entered hangry mode in his waking life; just imagine what the constant bloodthirst did to his temper now. Lots of Daniel's sound guys and Lestat's groupies were sacrificed for the sake of quenching their rageful bloodlust, so they decided to just fuck each other to cut the costs.
It was a practical affair. They were the only Vampires around, for starters, and could go balls-to-the-walls crazy with each other in a way you couldn't with a human lay. And Daniel really, really liked balls-to-the-walls crazy Vampire sex. It was the exact sort of high he spent his youth chasing. Them being caught by paps was also awful PR for the documentary, which meant it was amazing PR. Plus, it boosted Daniel's ego that not only did he manage to bang one powerful, centuries old Vampire, but two. It was an impressive feat considering how new he still was to this lifestyle.
Meanwhile Lestat got a rush from having sex with Armand's only Fledgling. Because he was a petty motherfucker. But then again so was Daniel.
Their evening could go down two different roads: either they began to bitch and whine about their respective flames avoiding them like hot trash, or they get fucked up. Daniel liked Lestat better when he was fucked up and horny rather than sad and horny, so getting fucked up it was.
Daniel looked at the mirror of the vanity. It was the fancy kind with light bulbs dotting the frame. The mirror itself was smeared with lipstick and glitter, the latter which seemed to sprinkle out of Lestat's asscrack at random intervals throughout the night. Post-it notes were plastered to the corners; aborted lyrics about unrequited love were written with Lestat's manic hand and a smudged red ballpoint ink. At last Daniel looked at himself. His old face and the old Ramones tee he wore, his undone leather belt. Into his Whiskey eyes.
Those things had been seafoam green for a lifetime. Not anymore. Daniel scrubbed a hand over his nose.
"What's the point of not being able to die of a drug overdose if you can't do the fucking drugs?" he whined.
Lestat rolled his eyes. Eyeliner and glitter was smudged all over them. With a hand still pumping his dick, Lestat tilted his square chin to the side and said, "The boy over there is on drugs, drain him."
Daniel locked eyes with the boy. Box-dye black hair, bloodshot eyes, metal in his face. He wore a VL t-shirt and nothing else. He was bound up on a Saint Andrew's Cross with a gag covering his mouth, tears gushing. Cocaine also gushed in his bloodstream.
Daniel sighed deeply.
"It’s not the same.” He stood up from the vanity chair so he could flop down on the seat next to Lestat, propped one elbow on the armrest and put his cheek upon his knuckles. Daniel shook his head in a disappointed-dad manner and said, “Call me old fashioned if you want, but if I’m doing blow then I need it up the nostril."
"God, you're so dramatic," Lestat groaned, which was rich coming from him.
Lestat's elbow kept hitting Daniel in the rib. He kept wiggling, too. It annoyed Daniel so much that he swatted Lestat's hand away and gripped him, himself. Gave a hard tug and grumbled, "You're annoying when you jack off, you know that?"
"So I've been told," Lestat replied, expression on his face reminiscent of the cat that got the cream.
###
After their upteempth round of fucking and Lestat whining about Louis wanting to keep it casual for a while, Daniel got an idea.
"Hear me out. what if we…" Daniel ashed his cigarette on Lestat's concave lower stomach. Bloody handprints were smeared all over it. "Snort the blood?"
Lestat burst out into laughter. He stopped when Daniel didn't join in.
"You can't be serious," the Vampire said. That pretty face of his had looked at Daniel with orgasmic satisfaction mere minutes ago, and now it looked at him as if he had grown three more heads.
They had one way or another made it to the king size bed. It was this luxurious, silky monster covered in leopard print and satin. It was now drenched in blood and the stench of nicotine. A dead groupie or three was still lying amongst them. That was fine; Christine would have the sheets changed come morning.
Daniel let his cigarette hang from the corner of his mouth and stretched towards the nightstand for the wad of cash Lestat kept. He rolled another dollar bill.
"Up the nose isn’t the only way to ingest drugs. You can shoot up, smear it on your gums, up your butthole, you name it.” Trust Daniel on that, he had tried literally everything during the 70s. “Who’s to say blood doesn’t work the same way?"
"Blood is not drugs, it is sustenance," Lestat argued, but Daniel could tell he was coming around to the idea. The guy was such a fucking hedonist.
"And yet we get drunk if our bloodbag's drunk. And sure, we do get affected when we drink from someone high, but wouldn't it be even better if we could get proper-high by snorting addict-blood? Does your stupid Vampire handbook have a great law against recreational blood use?"
Lestat gave it another thought. Then he grinned like the devil, and Daniel was once again reminded of why Louis was so crazy over this guy. He had an air to him, for sure.
The rockstar sat up and flickered his finished cigarette butt at Daniel's head. "Only one way to find out, oui?"
The boy was still bound to the Cross. He had fallen asleep at one point during the night and drooled all over himself. Lestat had the courtesy to put on a sheer night robe before tormenting him. Daniel was still sitting at the edge of the bed, haphazardly putting on his jeans and his old flannel, the Ramones tee too soiled to be of practical use right now. While he was fifty times more agile than he had been during his last years of life; his ass was still sore from the drilling Lestat had given him earlier so he took his time putting everything on. Then Daniel heard the boy wake and resume his feverish babbling. I'll do anything, man, the boy had said, stumbling over his words because he was still high out of his mind. I could be on my knees in a second.
It almost made Daniel smile. Sometimes, nostalgia was a monster.
"Ah, there you are," said the rockstar once his reporter finally got out of bed.
Lestat had his arms wrapped around his middle. He would have almost looked domestic if it wasn't for the dried blood peeking from the vee of the robe, the mascara running down his face. Lestat looked like a scorned housewife from a Spanish telenovela if anything. "Now, how shall we do this? You are the professional, ah, how did you put it: cokehead, between us."
Daniel glared at him. "Hey, I was clean for thirty years."
"Emphasis on was, hm?"
Point taken. Sure, maybe Daniel fell off the wagon after his turning, but could you blame him? The most beautiful piece of ass up and left him in the middle of the night two years ago, leaving him to fend for himself as a newborn Vampire.
Alright, Louis had helped him out a little.
He helped out a lot, actually.
Ok, fine, Louis was basically the Maker that Stepped up, but his point still stood. Daniel was allowed to act out. He had eternity to sort himself out again, anyway.
So Daniel stepped up to the boy. Much like those fancy cokeheads from back in the day would do it, Daniel used one sharp fingernail to gouge a small hole in the boy's birdlike wrist, ignoring his drug source's cry of pain. Daniel placed his rolled dollar bill into the wound, closed a nostril and inhaled the blood through the other.
And whew. Now That was something.
The drug exploded in his skull like a firecracker, glistened along his gums and almost made his eyes pop out of their sockets. His senses, already so sharp due to the Dark Gift, tripled in their intensity and color. Daniel pulled away with a hysterical laugh.
He clogged the wound with a thumb and turned to Lestat, yelled, "I can't fucking believe it. Lestat, pal, you've got to try this!"
"Is it any good?" Lestat asked, intrigued.
"Is it any good? Get more coke in this kid and see for yourself, asshole."
And that was what they did. They retrieved the baggie they had gotten from some fan and poured the rest of the white powder down the boy's nose, stuffed their own with his blood and almost combusted from the high that followed.
"Daniel! You are the most competent Fledgling I've ever laid my eyes upon," he cried out. The older Vampire was cackling loudly as he shaked an equally hysterical Daniel by the shoulders. His eyes were blown wide open, only a thin blue ring around his gigantic pupils. He had a flush to his face as if he was alive again.
Louis would have loved the look on him right now, Daniel thought, and then he didn't think of anything because Lestat was pushing him to sit down on the loveseat.
The boy on the Cross had died from either bloodloss or a drug overdose: Daniel didn't give a fuck because Lestat had slid down to his knees and positioned himself between Daniel's legs.
"What are you doing?" Daniel asked.
"Sucking your dick," said Lestat. He popped the button of Daniel's jeans and eagerly ripped the zipper in half. "For making such a formidable discovery."
"Oh, okay," replied Daniel, getting comfortable on the upended couch. The ugly throw pillows were all over the place and there were claw marks along the spine that hadn't been there a moment ago.
Another thing which made this arrangement practical was the fact that Lestat gave amazing head. No gag reflex, no shame, but an all encompassing desire to please. Lestat gave head like he had something to prove, like he would bite your dick off if your attention wandered off his ministrations for even one millisecond, and Daniel had always gotten off on danger. He put his hands on that blonde cranium, wringing the strands into his fist in that specific way which always made the Vampire moan around his mouthful.
When Lestat pulled away with an obscene pop, it was with a lot of opinions coming out of that wet heath of his mouth, voice hoarse with abuse.
"How that stupid gremlin could leave you is beyond me. If Louis didn't already occupy all my love, I would have kept you locked in a basement somewhere cold," he rasped, hand pumping Daniel's slick cock fervently, wrist twisting at the head and making Daniel see stars. He had a mischievous glint to his dark eyes as he said, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To have someone own your body and soul. We are compatible in that regard, my Daniel, non?"
It was weird to hear Lestat say so many nice things to him all at once. Daniel, high out of his mind for the first time in decades, could only giggle and nod his head like an excited little kid. While nothing could compare to orgasming on his Maker's blood, a coke-cum was like a walk down memory lane.
"Hey, try drinking from me like this," said Daniel, apparently full of ideas tonight.
"Yes," Lestat gasped. His talons sank onto the denim of Daniel's jeans and ripped them apart, revealing bare thighs with green veins just beneath the surface.
The Vampire was about to penetrate a vein on Daniels right thigh, at a sweet spot alongside the groin. The femoral artery, it was called. Daniel's toes curled into the tiger rug; his blood thundered with anticipation for the slice of teeth on his aged skin.
But then Lestat stopped. Time itself stopped.
Daniel looked at his surroundings, at the incense stick on the coffee table which was put on pause mid-burn. The stuffy, dead smell of it weakened until Daniel couldn't sense it at all. Lestat's song on the radio became a molasses-slow thud in the back of his mind rather than the primary beat which his cocaine-burdened heart desperately tried to follow.
Now that all the stimuli was gone, all that Daniel could focus on was the dark presence standing in the corner.
Armand took languid, slow steps only to stop beside the dead boy on the Cross, hands tucked in the pocket of his stylish dark gray trench coat. He looked just as beautiful as he did the night Daniel lost him. Tall and statuesque, hair sculpted with gel. Bathed in shadows and smoke like a widow's veil. If it wasn't for the glow of those half-lidded Whiskey eyes, or for the way all of Daniel's arteries tugged him towards his Maker's direction like an eager dog on a leash, he wouldn't have known he had been lurking there at all.
Neither of them said a word. Daniel's hands were buried in Lestat De Lincourt's hair, dick out. Hard and coated in his spit. That should say more than enough.
And then Armand turned to look at the boy on the Cross. Hummed, as if he was looking at a potted plant.
He ran a long finger along the black leather, asked, "Has he tied you up to this frame before?"
And what were the first-time Maker's first words to his only Fledgling after two years of no contact? Daniel could hear himself drawl the way he did during the interview in Dubai. That had felt like ages ago. Every day spent without Armand by his side felt like decades which he had to drown out with sex, substances and the thrill of performing Lestat-level outbursts of histrionics on live television. Now that he was here, Daniel was more mad than he had ever been in his life.
But he kept his cool. Despite the pounds of coke-blood strumming in his dead bloodstream and the agitation the likes of which could make a very large bear's heart collapse, Daniel managed to keep his cool.
"Maybe." Yes. Yes, he did. Daniel cocked a brow, asked, "Jealous?"
Armand could only bear to look at Lestat for a few moments. Then he looked away, that placid line of his lips twisted into a truly heartbreaking little frown. It would have made Daniel's heart twist if he had even a smidge less sense in the head.
"Yes," the devil admitted. "I'm not fond of sharing."
God, Daniel wanted to maul this bastard to pieces. Tie him up to that Cross and have his way to him. Better yet— tie him up to the Cross and just fucking leave. Show him how it feels to be on the other end of the shit stick.
Instead of doing any of that, Daniel scoffed. "Well that's rich, considering you're the one who left me. Finders keepers, asshole." The biblical fucking greed on this guy.
Armand's eyes darken from that golden color to a deep maroon. Almost black.
"Lestat is your keeper, then?" he asked. His voice had an artificial airy quality to it.
"He keeps me in whatever orifice he's got," Daniel spat, the drugs and anger making him even more crass than he usually was.
To make a point, he stroked the golden locks in his hand and nudged Lestat's velvety mouth to the vein he had wanted so badly to split. Daniel spat, "That's more than you can say, Boss."
Wrong answer.
Daniel found himself at once pinned to the loveseat with the stony weight of Armand on top of him, thighs on either side of his waist. One hand was clasped onto his lower mandible, the same way one would wrap their hand around a rabid animal's snout to stop it from tearing everything apart. The other hand put pressure against his sternum, pinning him down. Daniel still tried to fight against him, desperate claws trying to wrench Armand's arms away but to no avail. The Vampire in front of him was so lithe, carved with such graceful bones and soft, pretty hands, but he was so much more powerful.
"Were you never taught it is rude to lie to your superior, Fledgling?" Armand hissed. He looked down at Daniel as if he was nothing more than a scrappy mutt. Something mangy and wild that must be taught obedience. Well, tough fucking luck.
"No, since you weren't fucking there to begin with," Daniel snarled through gritted teeth. His heart was jackrabbiting in his chest. Against the palm of Armand's hand.
"I ought to teach you manners, then," said Armand. His claws crawled across Daniel's bottom lip, snagging on it and splitting the skin in two.
Daniel hissed at the sting, although the wound healed instantly. He had one Vampire to thank for the speed of the recovery. He looked over at Lestat, who had been knocked over during the ambush. The Vampire laid still on his tiger rug, eyes unblinking like the dead thing he was. It spoke of Armand's power that someone of Lestat's age and blood couldn't break free of his hold on time.
However Armand must have taken his glance as dismissal, for he backhanded Daniel something fierce.
The sound of the slap echoed in the room, it rattled inside Daniel's skull. Made his face burn.
"Eyes on me. You belong to me," Armand hissed. With the same hand he used to strike, he manhandled Daniel's sagging cheeks and forced the Fledgling to look up at him, getting his filthy mouth blood smeared all over the nook of his thumb and the palm of his hand. "The blood flowing in your veins is mine. Your sordid past, all your regrets and shortcomings in life. I swallowed everything and it all belongs to me. If you look at him again without my permission, you ungrateful, insolent boy, I will take even more."
Daniel spat out a tooth. It hit Armand in the chin before it tumbled down his chest.
Whatever. It’ll grow back.
"Kill yourself, you cunt," Daniel spat, trying to buck Armand off him. He was even harder than before. Leaking against the back of Armand’s thigh; smearing his soft beige trousers with blood.
His Maker kissed his teeth, disappointed by Daniel's ill behavior. It shouldn't have turned Daniel on as much as it did.
Armand said, "What a filthy mouth," words dripping with disdain.
And then his trenchcoat fell enticingly off his shoulders.
Armand threw the coat down at Lestat's frozen body as if the rockstar was nothing more than furniture to him. His blouse followed soon afterwards. It was dark purple, just a tad see-through. Now that it was gone, Daniel could leer up at Armand in all his half naked glory. What a sight he made.
Those crazy eyes flashed red as he spoke, that voice of his airy and seductive as always, "I'll put it to better use."
"Like hell you will," barked Daniel, even as he began to unclasp Armand's expensive Armani belt with desperate hands.
"So this is what it took for you to come back: me offering a little drug blood to your archnemesis back there. Us fucking like rabbits for almost three weeks didn't do it for you." He popped the button and dragged down the zipper. The little patch of hair dusting Armand's skin from below his navel down to his pubic bone made Daniel's mouth water. "I've drank from Lestat before, you know. He's done the same to me. What made this any different?"
"I don't spend my free-time stalking you and your paramour. I have better things to do," Armand lied, like a liar.
Daniel watched with a smug grin as Armand single handedly ripped his flannel into shreds. The other hand was still on Daniel's jaw, holding him still. Daniel sucked Armand's thumb into his mouth, hummed around it.
He let go of it with a pop, and said, "I never said you did, Armand. Odd that is the first conclusion your mind jumped to, though, but if the shoe fits..."
His eyes resembled solar eclipses as he looked down at Daniel's mouth.
"You implied it."
"So what is it that you do in your free time, then? Bought any private islands to cracked out twinks lately?"
Armand had managed to kick off his ridiculously expensive pants during Daniel's verbal attacks. He sat gloriously nude on top of Daniel as if he was his throne, and as much as Daniel wished he could continue to rib on the prick for his transgressions, he couldn't keep his eyes and mind off the pretty cock in front of him. It looked as perfect as his Maker. God, he wanted it in the back of his throat. When Armand crawled up his body, serpent-like, Daniel expected him to come close enough so he could blow him, but his dead shriveled up heart sang when those strong thighs framed his head and Armand lowered himself down on Daniel's face. His hands came up to grip his hips, his ass, spreading those pretty globes apart. A gasp punched its way out of Armand's chest when Daniel lurched up and hungrily licked a filthy line over his rim, over eager.
Their kind didn't need this kind of prep. Daniel loved to dish it out anyway. And Armand loved to receive it. Daniel found that one out during their short lived thrust in Dubai; how easily the obscene kiss could make Armand fall apart. He revelled in that memory even as Armand curled a fist into the wispy hairs at Daniel's hairline and pushed him to lie back down again. If Daniel was mortal, the force of that push would have made the vertebrae in the back of his neck prolapse.
"You have no room to judge how I decide to spend my eternity, not when this is what you have decided to do with the gift I have given you," Armand spat. He grinded down on Daniel's chin. "To live in filth. To fuck filth."
"You fucked him, first," Daniel retorted, ignoring how hearing Armand say such crass words was like throwing gasoline onto the growing flame residing in his lower gut.
He nosed at the sensitive skin between Armand's thighs, inhaled even though he knew no scent would grace his senses, no gasoline. Only the faint metallic of his sweat, the wall between them where the Fledgling-Maker bond should flood. It was cruel of Armand to deprive Daniel of their bond, but Daniel had his methods of tearing those walls down.
Daniel opened his mouth against his skin as if to lob in one more bomb, but Armand must have sensed the inevitable argument to come because he tugged on Daniel's hair and redirected his mouth to where he wanted it the most. It was equally for his own sake as well as Armand's that Daniel obliged. He gorged himself on blood these days, but he still found himself starving for this one act, for the pretty noises Armand made when Daniel lapped at his hole like the thirsty dog he was.
And they were such pretty noises. Soft gasps and aborted whines. Pleased sighs when Daniel penetrated him with his tongue and slowly started to fuck him with it.
Armand leaned back as he gyrated against Daniel's face, back arched and head thrown back like a pornstar. Precum dribbled from his bouncing cock and down the underside of the shaft, got all in between where Daniel's mouth met Armand's backside, the taste of it rich and heady in the back of his throat. Daniel failed to suppress a needy moan, and buried himself as deep as he could, over and over and over until Armand tensed up around him.
"Yes, that's it," he whimpered, so sweet sounding when he was close to release. "Right there. That's it, do that again, yes."
So Daniel did it again, and again and again, because he didn't need to breathe anyway. He fucked up into that greedy hole, the tip of his tongue a feathery touch against Armand's sweet spot. Anything to hear the sound of his voice again.
Those pretty thighs threatened to crush Daniel's skull as Armand came, getting his blood-cum all over Daniel's hair, because of fucking course he had to do that.
"You little shit," gasped Daniel after Armand pulled away. He didn't need to breathe, especially not while time stood still, but he still heaved for oxygen. Leaned into the hand which came down to cradle his cheek; Daniel couldn't help but chase that contact.
"Hm." Armand thumbed at a spot of blood at the tip of Daniel's nose as if to remove it. Swiped it all across his Fledgling's face instead. Marking his territory. "Better, but not good enough."
And then Armand crawled down his body, and all Daniel could think was, yes yes yes yesyesyesyes.
For the first time since Armand spawned in Lestat's tour bus, he smiled. It was a small, cocky thing which only made him more handsome. He tutted, "Unruly Fledgling, haven't you learnt how to shield your emotions yet?"
"No," Daniel replied, going for gruff but sounding petulant instead. "Maybe you should stick around so you can teach me."
Armand didn't reply, because of course he didn't. He aligned Daniel with himself and slowly slid down.
Daniel had the wet cavity of Lestat's mouth wrapped around his dick only minutes ago, and it had been so good, so refreshing— but the sensation of Armand all around him was akin to being thrown into an ice bath. He gasped for air and scrambled to grip onto his Maker's hips, who hadn't even given him a second to breathe before he began to bounce on his lap, using Daniel as a fucktoy.
The slap of skin paired with the creaking of the couch was simply obscene, more obscene than Lestat's music could ever wish to be. The Fledgling's eyes rolled into the back of his skull. Even with Daniel's preparing him, Armand was so insanely tight. So perfect, always perfect. All that Daniel could do while in this blissful state was watch him go.
The glow of Armand's eyes made him look like a wild thing. His curls bouncing with every movement, face twisted in animalistic glee. It was infuriating, how much Armand looked like he belonged in this den of debauchery. Gone was the Boticelli angel locked away in that Penthouse in Dubai; now Armand resembled a succubi. He would look sublime draped in one of Lestat's animal fur coats and nothing else. Daniel could drizzle him in coke blood and snort it off his pectorals, lick the residue off and smear it over Armand's gums with his tongue. If only he would stay.
Daniel didn't realize he said all that until Armand began to shake his head, a furrow to his eyebrows. Fucking coke blood.
"It would never work, Daniel." Armand sighed, like he was the most anguished creature on earth. "We could never go back to how things were, there is too much animosity. There will never be something between us again."
"Try me," Daniel gritted out.
Those insect eyes flashed dangerously at that. Armand leaned forwards, claws digging into Daniel's shoulders as he bore down on his lap, a snarl on his face.
"I did. You broke."
Daniel surged up from his prone position and wrapped his arms around Armand, keeping him close as he began to piston into the coldness of him. The change in position ripped out a truly melodic moan from the Vampire beneath him, and then another, another, another. Daniel thought he would ascend when Armand's talons began to claw into his shoulder blades. When he came close enough to breathe the same air. Fuck, Daniel had missed this. He had been missing it for decades without being aware of it. While being on the blood made him feel young and the drugs made him wild, being with Armand made him feel alive.
"Try me again," Daniel uttered against his lips. "And again, and again. Try me until I stop breaking. We have eternity, goddamnit, don't give up on us so soon."
The walls were crumbling, now. Daniel could feel it, could feel Armand's affections thumping on the other side of it. The desperation, too.
Armand's voice was a tad more high pitched when he grunted, "Daniel, you, ah, you don't—"
"What, I don't mean it? You don't get to decide that," Daniel interrupted. He pushed Armand's back into the loveseat, hovering over him. His words were more controlled now that the drugs have faded into his bloodstream, although Daniel was still high on the feeling of holding this monster in his arms. He kissed the corner of his gasping mouth as he hoisted one leg over his shoulder, and then the other. "I know you, Armand. I got all my memories back, remember? All our good times…"
Another gut-deep thrust. Teeth stroking Armand's shin.
"And all the bad. I'm not the stupid kid I was back then. I know what I'm walking into."
That probably didn't sound all that much convincing, considering that Armand had found Daniel indulging in the very same vices as his young adult self, but he was too busy nailing his prostate to fuss over minor details like that. Armand was too far gone to point that out either way. He gripped onto the armrest above his head and mauled the velvet to pieces.
"You are an idiot. Stubborn, life-ruining, mouthy pest," Armand cried out through gritted fangs. He was close, Daniel could tell through their bond. It flooded emotions between them so strong they almost made Daniel's knees buckle and collapse under the sheer weight of it all. The wall had broken down. It never stood a fucking chance to begin with.
"Yeah, but I'm your idiot," Daniel grunted.
The oncoming orgasm was so strong and so close that it made Daniel’s teeth rattle; this simply wasn't the time for clever comebacks, but Armand didn't care whether the quip was unoriginal. He stared up at Daniel with unblinking, wet eyes, lips soundlessly forming around the word mine.
Daniel grinned. "You like that, don't you? Did you like it when I fucked Lestat on that bed over there, too?"
That doe-like look on Amand's face crumpled. A surge of heartache so strong wracked through Daniel and made his heart crumple along with it. He had said some truly abhorrent shit in his lifetime— yet he had never regretted a string of words more than now.
"No." Armand's voice cracked on the single syllable. His ankles were already crossed behind Daniel's head but the point of contact must have not been enough anymore, because Armand's arms came around Daniel's neck like a dog collar, pulling him impossibly close. Nuzzling Daniel's face with his nose, Armand said, "You're mine, my first-born, mine only."
A brand new layer of sweat beaded Daniel's temple, his neck. There was nothing else for him to do but kiss those cruel lips. Armand melted against him, needy and desperate.
Daniel pulled all the way out just to slam right in again. He went in deeper than before, hitting the bundle of nerves with every thrust. The creaking sounds the couch made became loud enough that he ought to worry that the thing would fall apart soon, but Daniel didn't care. How could he, when the force of it made Armand throw his head back against the cushion and cry so prettily? The beautiful sound made Daniel's hand shoot out to grip the armrest so hard that it crumbled up beneath his fingers.
"I'm all yours, sweetheart, for as long as you'll have me," he said, mouthing at Armand's jaw, his neck, his chest.
Those talons curled up in Daniel's hair. Armand had never sounded so pained and sensual as when he gasped, "Yes, yes, bite down, Beloved, right there."
And Daniel did, and he came so hard at the first slice of artery that he thought his immortal heart would explode.
Fuck, coke had absolutely nothing on the blood pumping through his Maker's veins. So rich and intoxicating, gliding down his throat like acid honey. Daniel sucked greedily at his Maker's chest as he spilled deep inside him; taking and giving in equal measure. The dual sensation was enough to hurl Armand over the edge along him. They fell together, writhing and bleeding all over each other until the aftershocks faded.
Sated and numb from his orgasm, Daniel flopped down on his back beside Armand. It was the final push needed for the legs of the couch to give out and for the furniture to slam into the wooden floorboards beneath it.
The sudden movement pushed out a surprised giggle from Armand. Fuck Lestat's discography, Daniel wanted to tape that bell-like laugh and listen to it on the repeat on the radio.
"Daniel," Armand said. He sounded soft. Sweet. His fingers stroked Daniel's thigh reverently.
Daniel stretched shamelessly all across the ruined couch. Closed his eyes and nodded his head. "Go ahead, baby. What's mine is yours, right?" he replied. The lisp his fangs gave him made it sound like he was halfway-joking.
It only took a moment before Daniel felt those kitten fangs dig into his femoral artery. He let out a long groan at the first drag of blood, hands coming down to card through Armand's inky black curls, urging him to go on. To give him that black tar heroin just like the good old times. All his blood gushing South towards Armand's mouth made the wires in Daniel's already fried brain light themselves on fire, because the more blood Armand took; the more his cock started to fill out. While it was true that refractory periods were beneath Vampires, the ache remained. Daniel couldn't stifle the whine that came from deep in his chest when Armand took him in his hand, giving his prick slow, rhythmic pumps with each swallow of his throat.
A pit of fire opened up in Daniel's gut, threatening to burn him alive. It made his entire body recoil. Too much. Too much. "Armand," Daniel called out, alarmed, throat hoarse with exhaustion. "Armand— oh God, hold on a sec—"
And Armand did. While his mouth remained latched to Daniel's thigh, his hand stopped just when Daniel was about to tip over the edge. The anguished cry which ripped out of his vocal cords would have mortified him if he was even a little bit coherent, but Daniel was anything but that. No, he felt torn apart. He was everything and nothing at the same time. A wild thing and a domesticated thing. Young and old.
Dead and alive.
Armand looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes. Although they couldn't read each other's thoughts, Daniel knew what that look meant. The bond was barely necessary when Armand was so good at showing what he wanted with just a bat of his eyelashes and Daniel was so desperate to please.
My darling Fledgling. My wild, savage boy, that look told him, the intent so clear that Daniel could almost hear Armand's velvet tones whisper those words into his ear. Don't you want to be good to me? Won't you give me everything that you are?
And fuck, Daniel really did want that. He wanted to be really good; good enough that Armand would want every part of him, every drop. It was what he had wanted since '73 and beyond. It was that desire that put him in the position he currently found himself in. So Daniel lied very still as he let Armand pump his cock and drain him of his blood. He laid down very still even as his second orgasm made the world spotty at the corner of his eyes, and he laid very still as Armand continued to drain him, because he didn't have the strength to move anyway.
Two years. It had been two whole years and a couple weeks since he last felt so weak. The memory passed him by in vivid colors which did not naturally exist in the Dubai penthouse. It was the sensation of Armand's teeth in his neck that made sparks fire off behind his eyelids and warp the world onto something bright. The feeling of Death's arms surrounding Daniel's prone body as he laid in his bed and allowed himself to be drained.
Daniel smiled weakly. Sometimes, nostalgia was a monster.
At last Armand pulled away. A shaky gasp surely must have brushed against Daniel's skin, the oh so sensitive part of his groin, but he couldn't feel his limbs anymore. He was so cold.
Armand slithered up his prone body, a thumb coming up to brush against the sharpest points of Daniel's fangs, an almost reverent glow to his eyes. He curled himself around Daniel like a boa constrictor. His arms wrapped around his neck so that Daniel's face was pressed to the soft skin covering his throat. "Oh, my Daniel," Armand sighed. He pressed a kiss to the side of Daniel's head, and murmured softly, "You've been so good for me. Drink up, now. Reap your reward."
And Daniel did. He sank deeply into the hot flesh of his Maker for the second time tonight. Armand petted his hair as he took desperate drags from the open wound; not due to hedonistic pleasure but for survival. Daniel needed Armand for survival. That's probably the lesson that the fucker wanted to teach him, the megalomaniac fucker. Daniel wanted to be pissed off, he really did, but it was a difficult task when Armand tasted so good. And he kept petting him so lovingly and whispering sweet nothings in his ear, too, and all Daniel could do about it was pull him close by the waist and suck harder.
"You've deserved this blood, my sweet boy," cooed Armand. His hips began to roll against Daniel's thigh, the open wound there. "You might have strayed, but you know who you belong to now, yes? Yes, Danny, you belong to me. You always have."
It shouldn't be possible, but Daniel was hard again. The pain which followed was sweet and numbing.
They rutted against each other for what felt like ages. Daniel finally pulled away from the wound on Armand's neck, satiated and his face covered in blood. His Maker licked it all off the way a mother cat cleans her child, and it was the hottest thing he had done to him so far.
Armand snaked down a hand to wrap between them both, eating up the way Daniel gasped at the touch. Those eclipse eyes were so wide and searching when he looked down at him. He had always been such a dirty voyeur.
"I want to hear you say it, Daniel. Say that you belong to me."
Fuck, he was so goddamn close already. "Ibelongtoyou," Daniel said in one breath.
"Slower, this time around. I couldn't hear you properly,” The elder Vampire replied. It was meant to sound like a command, but it sounded more like desperation.
Daniel cradled Armand's face in both his hands and kissed him, this time close-mouthed. Chaste.
The sound that Armand made when Daniel pulled him away was that of a kicked puppy. How many times throughout the decades had Armand played Daniel's vocal cords like a violin, forcing the very same sounds out of his mouth? He had so many questions, so much grief in his heart over memories that would probably never resurface; not in their complete form, at least. Daniel should feel hate and hate alone at the sight of this life-size moth for gnawing holes in his brain. He should want to kick his teeth in. And yet when Daniel looked at him, at this pest with the big insect eyes and insatiable greed, all he could do was softly rub his thumbs over his Maker's pretty cheekbones.
"Armand, I love you," Daniel said, as if it was easy.
It was.
Armand went rigid in his grip. His eyelashes fluttered prettily as his cum soiled Daniel for the third and final time.
He dropped, trembling with the aftershocks.
Daniel wrapped an arm around Armand's back, rubbing soothing circles onto his twitching muscles until they went slack. He shook his head as he took himself in his other hand. "Selfish asshole. You're lucky I like it when you are selfish."
Armand didn't reply. He had one ear pressed to Daniel's heartbeat, and one leg thrown over his thigh. Daniel found him lovely like this, too. Boneless and clingy. Domestic, even.
It only took a couple strokes before he came, and at that point he was too exhausted to make a big deal out of it. Daniel simply basked in the aftermath, the perfect weight of Armand on top of him, massive yet featherlike, threatening to cave in his ribcage like waves on a sandcastle too near the shore.
The world was coming back in slow waves. The faint smell of incense welcomed his nose, the booming of the radio thrummed in his bones. Daniel could swear he saw Lestat twitch. He knew what all this meant, which was why when Armand pulled away from his embrace and began to pick up his clothes, Daniel simply let him. Forced himself to sit up and watch as Armand bowed down to pick up his beige trousers, his dark purple blouse.
"Leaving so soon? We haven't even had time for pillow talk," Daniel said sarcastically if only to hide how dread coiled tightly around his guts.
"I doubt your inamorato would appreciate seeing me in his territory," Armand said, voice carefully devoid of emotion. His back was turned to Daniel so he couldn't see his face. The wall was back up again. "The grudge he holds against me predates your mortal lineage."
"The hand chopping stuff with the Lenfent kid, yeah? I don't care about that. I don't care that Lestat cares about that. We're only fucking each other because it's convenient."
Daniel believed that he meant those words to be comforting for Armand. They must have had the opposite effect judging by how stiffly Armand shrugged on his trenchcoat. The shameful bow of his head. Why does he even try? Daniel was never good at making people stay.
Armand spared one last look at him. His pupils vibrated. Looked away again.
"Goodbye, Daniel," Armand said, softly.
Dread coiled even tighter. He reached a hand out, and called out, "Wait, don't—"
Too late. The world began to turn once again, the tour bus coming back to life for good with all its degenerate sensations. Lestat was reanimated, although the boy on the Cross remained dead. Armand was nowhere to be seen.
###
"So you knew he was coming to fuck me, huh?"
Lestat was less mad about Armand encroaching in his Vampire territory and stealing his lay while leaving him paralyzed on the floor than Daniel expected him to be. Full transparency: Daniel had expected him to rip his head off because of that. It had only taken Daniel approximately fifteen seconds to come to terms with his fate, but if there was one thing Lestat loved more than to perform on stage in front of a bunch of goths and gays, it was to be a unpredictable force of nature.
So the rockstar did no such thing as ripping Daniel’s head off. No, he had felt generous enough to offer one of his sheer robes because no article of Daniel's clothing survived the aftermath of crazy Vampire marathon sex, and now Lestat laid down on his tiger rug, "paint me like one of your French girls"- style while he grinned triumphantly up at his reporter— eyes appraising the ruined state of him and his horrendous velvet sofa alike— because Lestat had apparently been the reason for Armand making the trip in the first place.
"I had an inkling. It is the natural response when a fellow Vampire uses the Mind trick to show you how good they are at fellating your Fledgling," Lestat replied, waving a hand flippantly. He had a cigarette nestled between the crook between his pointer and middle finger. They were elegantly arched.
Daniel blinked. "You did what?"
Lestat got that mischievous look in his eye again as he crawled up the couch, getting closer to Daniel. "I contacted Armand," he explained. Then, Lestat used his pointer finger to tilt Daniel's face towards him. "I let him see us, and I let him hear the praise I showered you with, among other things."
He held the filter to Daniel's lips, and Daniel took a drag. He kept the cancer caged in his undead lungs as he regarded the Vampire in front of him, intrigued.
"Oh, yeah? Like what?" Daniel asked, smoke billowing out of his mouth, across Lestat's smug, pretty face.
"Look at him, Armand," The elder Vampire crooned. "Look at how I drive him wild with pleasure. We have become so familiar with each other, your Fledgling and I, I might end up keeping him. How does it feel, you miserable gremlin, to lose your only chance at a true companion to me once again?" Then Lestat chuckled. "He was livid, I assure you."
Daniel barked out a laugh.
"Yeah, no shit! That is coldblooded, man," he replied, eyebrows flying all the way up to his forehead. Everything about Armand's possessive behavior tonight made sense, now.
Lestat batted his eyelashes as he took another drag from his cigarette, as if he was this coquette little thing and not an apex predator with linebacker shoulders. "It was my first time on any drug, Mr. Molloy, my audacity must be excused," he said. "And it worked, didn't it? Your lover came back for you."
The smile on Daniel's face slid off at that.
"And then he left again."
For a very brief moment, something akin to empathy softened Lestat's face.
"It becomes harder each time, believe me."
They sat in comfortable silence afterwards, passing the smoke back and forth. The tour bus showed no sign of stopping its descent down the road. Music blared on the radio as the dead bodies keeping them company grew colder. The night was still young.
"Say… Is your impossible sex drive finally satiated?" Lestat asked once the cigarette went out. The coke had left Daniel's system a while ago, but the blonde was still strumming with energy.
Daniel snorted. "Are you kidding? I've just got Armand's blood in me, that stuff’s potent like Viagra. I could go any second."
"Very well," Lestat replied, a devilish grin on his full lips as he climbed onto Daniel's lap. The rockstar leaned in real close and murmured in his reporter’s ear, "How's the bed sound, Fledgling? Considering the fact you've gone and perverted my sofa."
Daniel put his claws on Lestat's hips, rubbing his Adonis belt with his thumb.
"Bed sounds good," he rasped back.
The bed burst into flames a second after he said that.