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Armand really took his fucking time with him tonight, fingering him open for what felt like hours. Realistically, it was more in the half-hour ballpark, but what is time to a vampire, and all that crap.
He’s got Daniel on his back on the sheets and pillows, spread out like a buffet, and he treated him accordingly — drank from Daniel’s femoral, taking him right to the edge of orgasm, but not beyond, the asshole. It’s okay though, because then he finally pushed his cock inside Daniel, that perfect stretch of it making Daniel groan and wrap his legs around Armand’s waist, urging him deeper.
Armand continues taking his sweet time — he’s fucking Daniel at a steady pace, expertly wrenching pleasure from him, turning time into a haze, until Daniel isn’t sure if it’s been hours or minutes. He’s come twice already, and Armand keeps going, holding back on his own orgasm, eyes burning as he hovers above, hair falling in a curtain.
He snaps his hips harder, sending a new, sharp burst of pleasure through Daniel’s body, and oh, shit, this is it, Armand is gonna make him come again… Daniel gasps with another thrust, tries to work his hand between their bellies, stroke himself off, but Armand won’t let him, grinning as he takes his hand, laces their fingers together, and pins it to the mattress above Daniel’s head.
And god fucking damn it, there’s just something in it, some vulnerability, some prey instinct, that makes Daniel arch and come with the next skilful drag of Armand’s cock inside him. It’s a flash of white-hot, overstimulated pleasure, his own cock making a valiant effort to leak what little come he’s got left in him at this pace.
“Oh, fuck,” he moans. “Fuck… Ah…!”
Armand shushes him, lets go of his hand to stroke his cheek.
“That’s it, that’s it,” he coos, then gasps quietly as Daniel continues clenching and fluttering around him through his third orgasm; he presses his lips to Daniel’s temple. “Beautiful boy.”
Jesus Christ, there’s something so cruelly sweet in his voice that just makes Daniel whine and go insane with pleasure. He’s teetering on the verge of overstimulated, and Armand keeps slowly, steadily fucking him through it; if Daniel was still human, he’d be writing and crying right now. He knows, because he remembers.
Armand hums, smoothing a hand through Daniel’s hair; his thrusts have slowed down to gentle, barely-there rolls; Daniel can feel every inch of him inside, his nerves frayed but also singing happily as he comes back down — to a point. He won’t come down all the way; Armand won’t let him, and fucking hell, knowing it feels incredible. Brutal and sweet, like a blanket that’s also a shroud.
He moans quietly, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling Armand so close, so deep inside of him, but also wrapped in his arms, snug between his thighs, their bellies pressed together over Daniel’s cock and the sticky mess of two-and-a-half loads of his come.
Armand kisses his forehead, hips rolling a little more insistently again.
“One more?” he asks, his eyes burning greedily when Daniel cracks open his own; he shivers, wanting to be devoured.
“Oh, what the hell, sure,” he says, trying for cocky, but his voice is trembling and completely wrecked. “You better come too, this time, you bastard,” he adds, not at all managing to hold back a moan at the thought.
The thought of Armand coming inside of him, filling him, marking him deep. The thought of, later, feeling Armand’s come slowly trickling out of him. Jesus, Daniel is a complete whore for that feeling, wants it badly and always.
Armand chuckles, probably picking up on something or other through their bond; Daniel doesn’t care. He’s naked, legs spread wide open, he’s split on Armand’s cock, and he feels so fucking good, stripped of all pretences. He fucking wishes Armand could still read his mind, see everything at leisure.
“Very well,” Armand says, petting through Daniel’s hair again, and Daniel allows his eyes to slip closed, basks in this feeling before it all starts up again. “I’ll give you what you want.”
“Mm, you mean you’ll grant my every wish?” Daniel somehow finds the spare half a brain cell to mouth off.
Armand laughs, quiet and breathy.
“Yes, my beloved. Always.” He rolls his hips more firmly, then pulls halfway out, pushes back in, making Daniel groan. “So. One more?”
“Yeah,” Daniel manages reedily. “Yeah, one more. One more.”
Armand presses a sweet kiss to Daniel’s mouth.
“Good boy,” he says.
And then he starts fucking Daniel properly again.
He doesn’t sit up, doesn’t change position — he keeps fucking Daniel just like this, in missionary, so perfectly and unbearably close. Daniel brings his legs around Armand’s waist again, distantly thrilled at how his hips no longer ache, all of his joints smooth like butter. He doesn’t know when it’ll stop delighting him; he hopes never.
And then Armand reaches down, hitches Daniel’s leg a little higher, opens him just a little bit deeper, and Daniel’s thoughts fizzle out with a long, leisurely groan.
All of his nerves are lit up like a Christmas tree, singing and screaming and purring together as Armand fucks him, and fucking hell, he’s so good at this. He knows Daniel’s body so well, knows how to play it and how to play with it. His thrusts are hard but unhurried, with a grinding sort of finish that absolutely drives Daniel crazy, a perfect edge of too much and not enough, especially now that he’s had three orgasms wrung out of him, almost one after another, with just enough of a break between them to make his skin ache. Fledgling sex drive is awesome. It’s awesome.
Slowly, nailing his prostate every goddamn time, Armand ratchets the pleasure higher and higher at a torturously leisurely pace, like climbing a flight of stairs. It gets closer, and closer, and closer, but not faster, and it fucking aches, and with a sob Daniel comes a fourth time. It’s dry, his cock completely spent, and almost painful in a way that really makes him soar and float.
“Shh, that’s it, that’s it,” Armand soothes him, at which point Daniel realises he’s still sobbing, tears streaking down his cheeks in pain-pleasure. “Oh…! Daniel, our bond! You feel so sweet right now…”
Daniel whines again, bucks his hips, clenches around him, wordlessly asking.
Armand gasps, claws digging into Daniel’s shoulder, breaking skin; his eyes glaze a little, staring into nowhere, as always when he tries to hold off.
“No,” Daniel begs. “No, no way, come on, you asshole, baby, please, please…”
“Please— ah! Please what?” Armand asks around a hitching breath.
“Please fill me up, please come in me, mark me up, make me yours, need your come inside me so bad, baby, please…!”
Daniel should probably be embarrassed, babbling and whining and begging, clinging to Armand and rambling about how much he wants his come inside him. Except he couldn’t care less. This is Armand, after all. Guy has X-Rayed his soul, been inside his brain. His blood remade him, pumps through Daniel’s heart. He’s seen every atom of him. Daniel never has to feel embarrassed any more.
“Please,” he moans again, clenches deliberately around Armand’s cock. “Make me full. Give it to me…”
(Yeah, in retrospect, Daniel’s twink years spent begging Armand to give him the bite were definitely partially motivated by kink. Again, it’s fine. It’s them. They’re past caring or embarrassment over anything at this point.)
“Come on, come on,” Daniel growls, begs, and his eyes are wet and warm with tears. “Come on, baby, please…”
Armand half-sobs, hips stuttering, and Daniel knows this one — this is where Armand lets go, where he abandons the artfulness and goes for honesty, simply chasing his own pleasure with no performance or artistry. Jesus, he’s so beautiful like this; Daniel blinks through the red haze of tears, watches, mouth hanging open, as Armand moans and gives himself up to pleasure. To pleasure he finds in Daniel, and fucking Christ, it’s almost enough to bring Daniel off the fifth time.
He’s so close — Daniel can tell by the way his muscles tense, his spine arches; his eyes go blood-orange and his fangs come out, but his face is gorgeously torn open in helpless pleasure. His body tells Daniel all of these things so beautifully; Daniel presses a hand to the small of his back, urges him on.
And then there it is — the hitch of breath and choked-off gasp; he always goes voiceless when he comes, and Daniel knows why, and getting to witness it, getting to be the cause of it, is a goddamn honour. Armand’s body goes taut like a bowstring, hips pressed flush with Daniel’s, and then Daniel stops thinking at all, because there’s that spill of liquid heat inside him, and it drives him fucking wild. Armand is quiet, but Daniel moans enough for the both of them; he grabs at Armand, drags his claws down his back, arches under him. He doesn’t come again, not exactly, because apparently even fledgling biology has some limits, but his body is crawling with pleasure, hot and pain-sweet, and he groans happily with it.
Armand’s voice comes back to him, the way it always does, with a languid moan. He drops his head onto Daniel’s chest, tired, sated and blissed-out. Their bond is glowing. Daniel strokes a hand down his back, over the bloody marks he cut there with his claws moments earlier; they’re already starting to heal. It’s his turn to mumble sweet nothings.
“Christ, sweetheart, you feel so good inside me…” he groans languorously; his entire body relaxes, but he keeps his legs wrapped around Armand’s hips, keeps him where he wants him, needs him.
He’s needy, yeah. Again, he no longer feels ashamed. It’s awesome.
Armand hums into Daniel’s chest, presses a kiss there, then lifts his head; dark hair tumbles in mussed waves, amber eyes gleam lazily between sooty lashes, a hint of teeth shows in a smile parting his lips. Christ, he looks so good Daniel might lose his mind.
“Satisfied at last, my darling?” Armand coos, nudging the tip of his nose against Daniel’s.
“Yeah, you fucking made me wait for it though,” Daniel tries to grumble, but it’s no use — he knows he’s glowing, and his end of their bond is downright purring with pleasure.
Armand hums, petting both hands through Daniel’s hair. Yeah, Daniel could spend about a century like this. Hell, maybe two.
They pass some time trading lazy, dirty kisses, coming down from the high of their marathon fuck. Eventually, Armand shifts; Daniel growls, breaking off into a whine, gets bribed with a kiss that makes his brain basically melt. He relents. Armand pulls out with a quiet little sigh.
He doesn’t go far — doesn’t go anywhere, just shifts a little, settles right back down, pressed to Daniel’s side, watching him closely, smugly. Daniel closes his eyes, and there it is, that feeling of Armand’s come seeping slowly out of him; he groans happily with it, gets a velvety little chuckle from Armand in response.
“Would you like a plug?” Armand asks, and Jesus, it’s like he’s asking how many sugars Daniel takes in his tea.
Somehow, that makes it even more filthy. But Daniel doesn’t ever need to feel embarrassed again, remember?
“Nah,” he says, shifting his hips a little, just to feel more of it all. “I’m good.”
Armand cradles him in his arms, talks some sweet nonsense about how well Daniel’s done, how good he’s been. Daniel nuzzles into Armand’s neck, has a slow little sip.
He purrs.