Chapter Text
Sometimes Daniel forgets that Armand actually likes to swim. Once, he’d forgotten due to Armand’s memory edits in 1985, and recently, he’d forgotten due to how miserable Armand had looked after diving off Night Island Pier just to find the reliquary locket that he’d thrown there in a fit of grief, rage, and spite after performing the aforementioned memory edits. But tonight is a reminder, and he won’t forget again.
Treading water like this under the moonlight had been a favorite summer pastime in Daniel’s youth. Armand floats on his back nearby, staring at the sky with round, vacant eyes. Only their color gives away that he’s content, that marigold shade Daniel loves best of all.
On the shore, Ricky, Jesse, and Paige sit talking. Since the little drink and blood-tasting incident around a week ago, there’s been peace. Ricky and Paige bicker like sisters, which pleases Daniel. Jesse has been relatively quiet since the addition of Daniel’s youngest daughter in their midst, but when they do speak with or around Paige, Armand feels it’s encouraging that neither he, nor Daniel senses any unease in Jesse.
“You’re pensive, beloved,” Armand says, touching Daniel’s arm. He’d swum over so silently as to take Daniel by surprise. “What is it?”
Daniel slides his arms around Armand’s waist, pulling him close. They’re both wearing too much for a night swim: Daniel in a gray t-shirt and garishly patterned flamingo swim trunks, Armand in a gauzy black outfit that’s a dead-ringer for what he’d worn as Rashid.
“I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop with Paige,” Daniel admits. He’s distracted by how gorgeous Armand looks with wet hair.
“And what would that be?” Armand asks, combing his fingers through Daniel’s damp curls as they’re buoyed up by gentle waves.
“Incessant requests to be turned,” Daniel sighs, leaning into the touch. “She’s so much like me that I have to assume it’s coming.”
Armand searches Daniel’s face. “Have you not examined her thoughts? I know we’ve sworn to stay out of the kids’ heads, but—”
“I haven’t, and you know it,” Daniel says gravely. “I know you haven’t, either, because I know what a lie looks like from you.”
“Daniel, I won’t have you worrying like this,” Armand replies. “You’re right, I haven’t. But I’m offering because this pains me.”
Daniel hesitates, mapping the length of Armand’s spine beneath the soaked fabric. He wishes they were alone. It’s a Sunday night, which means businesses on the island are closed, and no one is out here except for the coven. If he let Armand do it, then he’d be at ease.
“I would not linger,” Armand insists. “I’m grateful that we’ve had the fledglings around for a few months as practice, because I’ve learned how crucial it is to maintain those boundaries. But Paige has been with us…what, a little over a week? She’s mortal. There are risks.”
Shaking his head, Daniel hitches Armand a fraction closer. “She’s had that long to start pestering us, and she hasn’t. I’m gonna have to trust that means she isn’t thinking about it yet. That asking Ricky to drink from her out of curiosity and tasting those traces of all our blood will be enough for now. I’m not ready to reckon with losing her eventually to death, but I just…can’t fuck this up. Not this time.”
“I, for one, am impressed by Paige’s fortitude,” Armand says earnestly. “Now that you mention it, it really is a miracle she hasn’t asked.”
“Maybe she’s learned from my example,” Daniel replies, tempted to dunk Armand underwater or any of that other silly shit he used to do to people he’d had a crush on. “Or maybe she’s biding her time, observing enough of our behavior firsthand before she starts to pester.”
Armand regards him with a wistful expression. “You know I won’t do it,” he says apologetically. “I can’t. You’re my only.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of other people she could ask if push came to shove,” Daniel points out. “I mean, shit, if we’re in London right up until we go on tour with Lestat, assuming the vampire world hasn’t ended by then…” He shrugs. “That’s six or seven months in which she might decide this lifestyle is do-able, and plenty of time for her to ask Sam or Petronia. I almost said Rashid, but he’s still undercooked like me.”
“Undercooked,” Armand repeats, his expression somewhere between disdain and delight. “What a fascinating way of putting it. Not as new a fledgling as they come, but also not strong enough to turn someone.” He appears to turn it over in his head. “Absurd, but apt.”
“Want me to have a heart-to-heart with her about it?” Daniel asks, play-biting Armand’s neck until Armand swallows a gasp. At that, he sinks his fangs quick and teasing. “No asking the oldest vamp you can find to turn you without talking to us first? Fun stuff.”
Armand nuzzles the hollow of Daniel’s throat, licking the saltwater there. “You’d want that for her? You’d accept the reality of that happening?”
“I’d kinda be a hypocrite if I didn’t, right?” Daniel says, sliding his hands underneath the underwater billow of Armand’s shirt to touch his skin. “I played the long game. I mean, sure, the fifty years of amnesia helped, but waiting paid off. I’m with you now.”
Armand gasps again, but this time it’s one of those half-voiced moans that usually make Daniel pin him to the nearest wall or piece of furniture and have his wicked way. “If her choice is sufficiently informed, then…” He makes that sound again as Daniel slides a knee up between his thighs, holding him there. “Then there’s nothing we can truly do to stop her. She’s nearly a decade older than you were when you first asked. We don’t even know if she’ll want it once she’s seen the harsh realities. Maybe if I took her for a flight without warning…”
“Forget I brought it up,” Daniel whispers in Armand’s ear. “I’m this close to saying, yeah, go ahead, compel the kids to return to the house.”
“We get the message!” Ricky shouts abruptly, the little shit. She’s been listening in on their conversation. “You guys wanna fuck out here!”
Armand rests his head on Daniel’s shoulder, abashed. “Would you please handle this?”
“Gotcha,” Daniel says, turning his head to see all three of the kids standing at the water line with their towels, the blanket, and the remnants of their blood bags all packed up. They’d had fun picking out swimsuits from one of the island’s many boutiques like normal people. “Hell yeah, we do!” Daniel shouts back, and Armand sinks his fangs through Daniel’s t-shirt and into his flesh to keep from peevishly interjecting. “Sex on the beach is wasted on the young! Too gritty! You know there’s a pool in the courtyard if you really wanna keep swimming!”
“Oh my God,” Daniel hears Jesse gripe over the sound of the water. They resolutely begin to march back toward the villa. “I’m leaving.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Paige shouts over her shoulder, indicating that Ricky had better follow, or else more TMI is imminent.
Armand unlatches his fangs from Daniel’s shoulder, watching the kids disappear over the crests of several low, sloping sand dunes. He kisses Daniel as soon as they’re out of sight, fierce and impatient. He’s been hard for a handful of minutes now, and Daniel isn’t far behind.
“I wanna blow you on your back in the surf, with your hair fanned out and stuck to the sand,” Daniel says between kisses. “Thoughts?”
Armand whimpers, clamping his thighs tightly on either side of Daniel’s. “Wet sand is better than dry. Water hitting my feet is fine.”
“Whatever you want,” Daniel agrees, maneuvering them toward shore. “Gonna take care of you, princess. You just watch the stars.”
They’ve barely stepped out of the surf, limbs heavy with the feel of gravity reasserting itself, when Armand drags Daniel down just within the margin of the water line. Daniel realizes Armand isn’t about any further delay, so he tugs Armand’s pants off him, the resistance of sodden fabric still a chore. He tugs at the hem of Armand’s shirt, eyes questioning, and Armand indicates he’d like to keep it on.
Daniel takes his own shirt off instead. Armand’s appreciative gaze sweeping over Daniel’s chest, as he’s lying there with his only remaining garment barely covering how turned on he is, sees to it that Daniel is painfully hard in his swim trunks. He settles between Armand’s spread thighs, pushing Armand’s shirt—more of a tunic, really—until it’s gathered at his hip bones, his erection exposed. Daniel kisses it.
“For me? Aw, you shouldn’t have.”
“Are you trying to ruin the mood?”
“Nah. Seeing you all prissy and offended turns me on.”
“Alas, it’s not genuine offense. That ought to ruin it.”
Armand stops talking as soon as Daniel takes his dick in his mouth. He bites his lip, one fang drawing blood as it peeks out. He gives up on propping himself on his elbows as Daniel takes him down to the root, exhaling a sharp groan as Daniel sucks harder and then swallows around him. He’s just as breathtaking like this as some part of Daniel remembers, raking his fingers through his own hair to make sure it’s in the exact state of disarray that Daniel had requested. They must’ve done this here so many times that Daniel can’t isolate a single occurrence.
Daniel lets Armand slide out of his mouth with a light scrape of his teeth. He takes a moment to appreciate how Armand looks spread out before him, and then takes Armand’s dick in a firm, twisting grip as he bends to sink his fangs slowly in Armand’s inner thigh.
Armand wails, one hand flying to the back of Daniel’s head, holding him in place. He shudders as Daniel drinks from him, already coming messily in Daniel’s grasp. His hand tangled in Daniel’s hair goes limp after a few minutes of Daniel teasing aftershocks from him.
“How’s that?” Daniel asks, withdrawing his fangs. He keeps his mouth on that spot, licking over Armand’s pouring wounds until some combination of the blood from his nicked tongue and Armand’s own blood heals them. Seeing Armand this wrecked always makes his chest feel tight, always makes him want to gather Armand in his arms and kiss his furrowed brow, his closed eyes, his parted lips. He watches Armand instead, setting one steadying hand on Armand’s heaving belly, caressing it as he comes back to himself.
“Fuck off,” Armand laughs weakly, his eyes fluttering open. He regards Daniel with hazy, all-consuming adoration. “You know how it was.”
Daniel inhales harshly as Armand props himself up with one arm and works his other hand beneath Daniel’s waistband. He’d been thinking about jerking himself off, coming all over Armand’s thigh in the same place he’d bitten it, but the feel of Armand’s fingers closing around him derails that course of action in a heartbeat. He’s always had a weak spot for Armand’s hands just about anywhere Armand cares to put them.
“As good as what you’re doing right now,” Daniel says, shamelessly fucking into Armand’s fist. “Oh, sweetheart. Like that. Just like that.”
“Of course, my love,” Armand murmurs, circling his thumb over Daniel’s slit. He stops teasing and presses into it, his fingernail catching.
The shock of pain courses down Daniel’s spine, and he’s gone. He feels Armand withdraw his hand even as he’s coming, feels Armand sit up and wrap his arms around him. Sweet boy, beautiful boy, my Daniel, Armand murmurs in Daniel’s ear, easing them back against the sand, pulling Daniel on top of himself. He trembles with aftershocks as Armand wraps one leg around him—trapping him, stroking his hair.
“Jesus,” Daniel rasps as soon as he can think again. “That. That was.”
“Shhh,” Armand whispers, nuzzling his cheek. “Perfect, my darling.”
“Yeah,” Daniel agrees faintly. “Better not fall asleep here, though.”
“No, I suppose not,” Armand says, sarcastic, but fond. “Come on.”
They do a half-assed job of putting their soaked, sand-covered clothes back on and stagger back up to the house. The fledglings and Paige aren’t in the courtyard pool, and they aren’t in the living room, either. Daniel feels bad about how much water and sand they’re tracking everywhere, but he knows that Joaquín will get it as soon as he’s back on shift in the morning. As they pass the closed guest room doors, they hear Ricky’s and Jesse’s heartbeats behind one and Paige’s behind the other. Satisfied, they make their way to the end of the hall.
Once the door of their suite has closed behind them, Daniel follows Armand into the bathroom and strips. Armand does the same, somehow quicker than Daniel, always quicker, and then turns on the shower. If they fall asleep in here, it wastes money, but carries no risk.
“There, that’s better,” Armand croons, sitting back against the tile wall, guiding Daniel to lie down with his head in his lap. He remembers the hours they’d spent in here as his body was dying, Armand patient and tender even through the worst of it. He sighs.
“Did we forget to pack anything earlier?” Daniel asks, yawning. Their luggage is already on the jet, ready for their transatlantic crossing scheduled for the next evening. He runs his hand from Armand’s knee down to his ankle and back up again, finding a ticklish spot.
“I don’t think so,” Armand replies, and somehow he’s fetched the shampoo bottle from the rack over their heads without Daniel noticing. He squeezes some into Daniel’s hair and starts to massage it in, lightly scratching Daniel’s scalp. “Anything we forget, we’ll buy.”
“Love you, babe,” Daniel mumbles, closing his eyes. “You’re the best.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Armand says fondly. “Love you, too.”