Foolish boy who thinks he can be invisible. Armand knows from experience that there's no disguising natural prominence like that. Desperate soul, gaining attention by trying to avoid it. Oh, he's been there.
Biting Daniel's neck repeatedly and each lifting of his head elicits from the man a guttural, pained noise, no less inhuman. Armand drinks and Daniel's hands don't once try to stop him. They're two in that trance, in the bottomless appetite that only death promises to fix.
“Do I bore you?”
“You follow me around continents. You’ve existed for five centuries and still manage to look at me like I’m special.”
“You are special.” The absolute truth in Armand’s words amuses him deeply.
“It’s crazy that you think that. I still don’t know why you do.”
Daniel has been through withdrawal; this is something else. These are days locked inside a room because he can't find a good enough reason to get up, nights spent praying to the only god he knows.
Even though you made me forget you, I never stopped loving you. Nothing you’ve ever done or ever will do can convince me otherwise. Only the fucking sun finally expanding to swallow this doomed planet could accomplish that, and even then? I doubt it. I will never stop loving you.
“Love me Daniel.” He whispered. “Love all of me— even the parts that disgust you, even the parts that make you disgusted with yourself. I love those parts of you already, I’ve always loved them.”
What is Armand if not a performer? Armand the lover, the apprentice, the leader. He is the role that is granted to him. There’s no reason to complain if his performance is satisfactory, if he is being approved.
For the first time, Armand does not meet his gaze. He stands very, very still, fingers wrapped around his bicep in that way Daniel quickly came to recognize as a self-soothing gesture in Dubai.
In a way, Armand is too following the life tied to their companionship, ensuring its course. And why not learning? He merely prefers a more direct approach.
No. Here, with his black hair haloed in dirty LEDs, he looks like something sculpted by Michelangelo, an avenging Michael, terrible and beautiful, eyes on fire and a spear ready to pierce Daniel's heart.
Is this what it was like for all those missing years? Did he cling to Armand like a stray dog on a hot day, bone-thin and panting, desperate for ant shade he deigned to provide?
Foolish boy who thinks he can be invisible. Armand knows from experience that there's no disguising natural prominence like that. Desperate soul, gaining attention by trying to avoid it. Oh, he's been there.
Daniel's scent is an unbearable temptation, making his head spin and his hands sweat, his eyes roll in their sockets. But it's when the first “Come on,” sounds in a hoarse voice that Armand loses himself. He sinks his teeth into him and sucks as if from the source of all life.
'I slept in the park,' Armand says, like that explains fucking anything.'
'You're covered in dirt.'
'Yes,' Armand agrees, 'because I slept in the park.'
He almost can't believe that he could find someone so beautiful and so repellant. That he didn't know whether to stroke his hair like this, to kiss his neck, or to shake him, to spit in his face.