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It's itchy. A dull scratch under his skin, no matter how hard he tries to adjust and readjust. Jeez, is this what some people have to deal with all the time, or is he just wearing it wrong?
Daniel keeps adjusting the fold of the jacket around it, when he's not tugging at the fold of the zipper higher and higher. The familiar leather feels strange against so much bare skin, exposed and smothered all at once, and he pulls it tighter with a soft grunt.
Chilly night, Daniel?
He jumps a foot in the air-- literally, thanks for the fucking flying powers, Armand. Prick, he mutters, sinking carefully back to earth. You know, the whole point of "meeting up" is the other guy actually showing up in person.
On my way, Louis offers. It'd be more believable if it didn't sound like he was holding back a chuckle, the asshole.
Sure. Daniel tries to feel out around him, but Louis's exact location is flickering, finicky, if he's in the area at all. That's not just Louis code for "sitting on my ass waiting for another round of vampire battle royale in my fuckoff penthouse," right?
Maybe I'm just waiting for a good reason to show. Louis takes a moment to let that sink in. Did you wear what I asked for?
Maybe, Daniel shoots back, just to be a bitch. Maybe I have better things to do on a Saturday night then chase my fucking tail for you. Like Armand used to, he doesn't project, although Louis might pick up on it anyway. If he does, he doesn't rise to the bait.
Instead, he says, flat and unyielding: Show me.
Fuck. This shit shouldn't raise the hairs on the back of Daniel's neck, goddamnit. He's watched Louis cry at the end of sad movies and melt down in his personal rock pit, he should be above all this submissive crap.
God, he really should be.
His mental voice wavers ever so slightly when he tries to deflect. Got nobody to show off for, dumba--
Is there a mirror nearby? A reflective surface of some kind?
He glances down the alleyway, and lo and behold catches his reflection in a darkened shop window. ...Yes.
Get close to it. Daniel does as he's told, watching his face blur and settle in the glass. Nobody on the other side of the window, as far as he can tell, nobody passing by on the street. And if someone does show, well, he'll just have to eat them. Only way to settle this level of embarrassment.
I'm going to look through your eyes now, Louis tells him. Is that all right?
It's always interesting, the little things that make a juggernaut like Louis pause and ask permission. Sure. Knock yourself out.
He feels the tingle before something like wires snap into place, a buzz like wires on the inside of his skull. Daniel straightens automatically, a soldier at fucking attention or some shit. Wind ruffles his curls, gentle as a hand.
Lose the shades, Louis orders. I want to see your face, all of it.
Fine. Whatever. Sunglasses at night are a douchey look anyway, undead or not. Daniel pretends it's just the immortally locked Parkinson's making his fingers shake as he gingerly removes the sunglasses, and not anything else.
There we are. Louis lets out a low hum of satisfaction. Pretty as ever, boy.
God, Daniel's going to bust a nut untouched if this keeps up. Make a mess of his...accoutrements.
Then I suppose we'll have to move things along then, then. For a moment, Daniel swears he can see Louis's lethal green eyes smirking at him from the fucking window. Open the jacket.
Shaking fingers. Shaking fingers--Daniel drags it down awkwardly, gingerly, trying not to flinch at the air tickling his bare skin, the wind tugging at his loose curls. He makes a point to avoid eye contact with the poor sumbitch in the window as the jacket slides all the way open, baring him like a sacrifice.
Widen your stance a bit, Louis tells him. I want a better look. He lets out a soft sigh when Daniel obeys, like he's pleased as fucking punch. Very nice. The roses were an excellent touch.
Roses? Yeah, if Daniel narrows his eyes a bit he can see tiny rosettes adorning the lacy, silky surface of the...the bra. He can name it, he's an adult. He'd managed to swallow his pride while, buying the fucking thing, hadn't he, avoiding eye contact with the salesgirl who probably thought he was a fucking sugar daddy.
It doesn't fit you quite right, though. Louis hums in thought. Strains a bit--you underestimated yourself, Daniel.
And okay, it had been harder jamming his saggy old-man tits into the fucking things then he'd expected. Well, I'll make sure to measure all my wrinkles nice and careful next time you put me through this shit.
Good thinking, Louis says, like he actually means it. And what about downstairs?
Downstairs. Louis's not really gonna make him...no, he's not making Daniel do jack shit. Daniel's fucking himself ever over entirely of his own free will, as per fucking usual. Still, he makes a point of rolling his eyes where Louis can see before he crooks a finger in his waistband and gingerly tugs it down, down, down--
Magnificent, Louis breathes. The words are enough to make Daniel's cock fucking drip , probably would have made him come untouched at twenty.
That's all you're getting until you feel like gracing me with your presence, he forces out, jerking his hand away so the waistband can snap into place.
It'll do. Daniel can picture Louis wearing one of those stupid-sexy smirks of his, bright as a lightbulb before the moth hits it. Now, why don't you play with your tits for me?
Should be self-explanatory, but for a moment Daniel flounders. I don't...
Take one of your tits in hand. Yes, like that. Daniel ends up having to steady himself with his free hand, fingers trembling against the lacy surface. Play with the sheer spot over the nipple, rub your thumb back and forth.
Okay. Okay, he can do that. He can do that, and it won't make his undead pulse beat all that faster, mouth growing dry. Impossible to tear his gaze away from the guy in the mirror, tough bastard made of leather and silver curls and molten eyes, fondling his own tits with a growing flush on his face.
Very nice. Why don't you give yourself a squeeze? He does, and his occupied hands means there's no way for Daniel to muffle a soft, strangled moan.
You like that, don't you. It's a statement, not a question, which somehow makes it all the more worse. You like putting on a show for your daddy.
They've never dropped the d-word before, not like this. Even though Daniel's thought about it a million times, even though it's fucked because it's true, isn't it, he's not Louis's the way he's Armand's, but he's still Louis's, his bright young reporter with a point of view, forged with his words and teeth and his fire burning so bright--
Yeah, Louis agrees, and then there's a voice over Daniel's shoulder in the reflection, there's a hand coming up to grasp his free tits, nails coming up with a proprietary squeeze.
"Louis--" Speaking feels jarring after so much silence, enough that he almost starts coughing. "How, how fucking long have you been--"
"Shhh." Louis's teeth scrape along his throat, half promise and half warning. Daniel shuts up and just savors the weight of strong, unforgiving hands dragging over him, tugging his bra strap until it actually seems to fit and adjusting the folds of his jacket just so.
"You said I'd get more when I arrived," Louis purrs. "Are you going to go back on your word, Daniel?"
Apparently not--Daniel watches himself undo the buttons of his jeans and drag them off his hips, puddling stupidly around his ankles. Now there's nothing hiding the, the panties, grey-tinted hair curling obscenely from behind pink satin and pretty white lace.
"Beautiful." Louis nuzzles happily along the back of his neck. "Now, get to work."
"Yessir," and it's meant to be sarcastic, goddamnit. He has to wait for the shaking in his hands to die down a bit, Louis patiently petting his tits all the way, before reaching into the panties, about to pull his cock out--
"Nuh-uh." Louis nips at his ear, sharp as a warning. "Touch yourself through 'em."
"Through..." Oh god, he's hard, he's so hard, the panties are unspeakable friction against his straining dick. "I'll make a mess."
"Yeah, you will, sweetheart." Louis's nail drags up the back of the panties, accompanied by the rasp of tearing cloth. "They'll be ruined, absolutely ruined. I'll have to get you new ones, so you can wear 'em when you go on TV and sign our books."
"Fuck," Daniel rasps brilliantly. He wrestles his hand out of the panties, gingerly wrapping it over his covered dick instead. Frilly cloth rustles as he toys with the head of his dick, grinding the unforgiving lace into his own skin.
"That's--expensive," he manages, not sure whether it's worse to meet his own eyes or Louis's own. "Waste of money," like he isn't fucking a million thanks to the man behind it.
"You deserve it." There's something hard nudging through the torn panties, prodding at Daniel's hole. He'd gotten himself slicked up before he came here, obeying every single one of his instructions like the good boy he isn't supposed to be.
"Gonna spoil you so good." Louis breaches him with a groan, and Daniel yelps, barely keeping from slicing his cock open with his own nails. "Look after you, like you shoulda been looked after from the start."
The reminder of that, that abandonment, would have stung at another time. Now it sends Daniel fucking shamelessly into his own fist, glaring defiantly at his amber reflection, watching his silver curls flicker black for the faintest of heartbeats.
You like that, motherfucker? he snarls out into the void, even though it's literally impossible for Armand to hear him. I got a good daddy, a daddy all my own. I don't fucking need you and your shit, you hear?
"He hears." Louis rocks into him, each thrust lethally precise. His claws are slicing through the lacy cups, too, pinching Daniel's nipples viciously and squeezing his tits until his knees buckle. "He knows how loved you are, Daniel. He knows how proud I am of you. He knows that--"
You're mine, Daniel Molloy. The words echo, amplified for miles, shuddering through Daniel's bones as Louis's fangs sink into his neck. To the rings of Saturn and back, he'd said, multiplied, and it fucking feels like it when he sucks so hard Daniel's head spins.
You like being mine, baby? This part is just for Daniel, words painted bright on the inside of his head. You gonna carry me forever? Wear my mark 'til the world burns out?
"Yes," he's projecting it as he says it, doubled waves of frantic need. Daniel's jacking himself off so fast that his reflected hand is a blur, his pupils blown terrifyingly big. "Yes, daddy, please, please, please--"
He comes all over the glass, red-and-white splatter dripping him through the fine mesh of his panties. Louis fucks him through it, keeps fucking him, shoves Daniel forward so he just manages to catch himself on the window's fractured surface before Louis comes with a low groan.
Then he's pulling out, teeth and cock both, spinning Daniel around so he can look Louis full in the face for the first time all night. They stare at each other, panting, and Daniel should have some kind of quip on hand, but his head is spinning and it's all he can do not to swoon into Louis's arms.
So instead of scrambling for words, he lurches into a kiss. He can taste his own blood on Louis's mouth, and he bites Louis's lip so he can taste Louis's too, licking and snorting with all his raw fledgling greed.
Louis breaks away first, gently. His fingers flutter over Daniel's skin, pulling his pants back up and zipping his jacket, giving him at least the appearance of having his shit together even if he can feel everything stick and cling underneath.
"Like I said," Louis flicks a bit of lace off his fingers, ruffles Daniel's hair. "Next time it'll fit better. We'll go shopping together, to make sure."
"I'll make room in my schedule," Daniel cracks, trying and no doubt failing to pretend the idea doesn't make his aching cock twitch. Christ, it's like being a teenager again. "Now, if you excuse me, I'm gonna home and wash some of our collective spunk off before the sun or whichever assholes you've just alerted to our location show up."
"Would it--" For the first time all night, Louis looks nervous. "Would it be too much if I came along?"
"You've been dressing me up like Grandpa Barbie and fucking me in the ass, I'm pretty sure we're way past imposition." Daniel pauses, licking his lips. "I mean, I was planning to--" He flutters his fingers awkwardly, feeling like an absolute tool. "You know."
"It's fine." Louis steps forward, slinging his legs around Daniel's neck and wrapping his legs around Daniel's waist, his scent curling tenderly in Daniel's nostrils. "I trust you," he says, like it's the simplest thing in the world.
And that...that shouldn't form in Daniel's throat, should it. He carefully waits for his hands to stop trembling before catching them up under Louis's ass, giving it a squeeze just because he can. Louis smiles against his healing neck, soft and fond.
"Up up and awaaaay..." Daniel announces, as they soar up out of the alley and past the haze of city lights. "Jeez, daddy, you're gonna make me throw my back out again if you're not careful. Did you eat a horse or what?"
He's bullshitting, of course. Louis is lighter than a feather in his arms, light as Daniel's stupid happy heart, light as the stars twinkling around them while they make their way home.